Is Christian Pulisic the Star American Soccer Needs?
Does Howard Schultz paint his face with the blood of Colombian Squirrel Monkeys and perform tribal war dances in his penthouse? … Maybe.
Like most people, when I heard that America’s next soccer phenom is named “Pulisic”, my first thought was, “Which country did we fleece when we finagled dual citizenship for this guy? Croatia?” But no. He’s actually a good-ol’, full-on, red-blooded American.
Hold on.
Where were we? Ah, right… Who will save US soccer — as a culture — from the purgatory of mediocrity it’s been drifting in? If we’re being honest, the savior that American soccer needs is no one player. Rather, it is a larger, more invested fan base.
Still, fan bases are made up of people — usually — and people rally around heroes. The “hero’s journey” is an intractable part of our cultural conscious. From Homer’s Iliad to Homer Simpson, the adventures of symbolic icons capture the imagination of people the world over. After all, we’re each writing and realizing our own narratives every day. Right now. So it helps to have some references to guide us.
When it comes to the Story of American Men’s soccer — one that has been defined by angst, entitlement, an occasional flash of brilliance and more angst — does Christian Pulisic have what’s needed to propel it, finally, into the realm of the world elites? To galvanize a nation of rabid entertainees? To lay bare a template for the little Jimmies and Joes who have only ever had Brazilians, Germans and a Portuguese guy as prototypes of greatness to emulate?
Highlight tapes like this give reason for optimism…
As electrifying as Pulisic is on the field, he’s still only one eleventh of his side. And what we saw on Sunday — when the US tied Mexico 1–1 — from the other ten, didn’t exactly scream “world’s elite!” — except for the untouchable, indelible and immortal ‘Bald Eagle’, Michael Bradley. We didn’t play terribly, but the game had the same aura that USMNT games tend to have: unrefined athleticism, indecisiveness, and anxiety. AKA 🙏 🙏 🙏.
Lobbing it, hopefully, up to a striker, like it’s a U14 jamboree, just doesn’t cut it on the world’s stage.
Yet, when Pulisic got the ball at his feet Sunday, an elevated expectation seized not just me, watching, but also his teammates. Runs were made. Players displayed more decisiveness. They knew that if they got into the right position, Pulisic would find them. It was like the boss walked into the room; cubicles lit up with the sounds of deliberate typing and emails whizzed off to the nether reaches of the Internet.
There’s something contagious about transcendent talent. Something viral. It brings the best out of people. Just ask the only player ever with a rat-tail and an NBA championship.
But Bruce Arena and Co. better hope that CP10 is carrying the bubonic plague of talent if they want to truly shatter the glass ceiling that looms over men’s soccer in America.
🙏 🙏 🙏..
They say that a rising tide lifts all boats.
The Pulisic experience, in its infancy anyway, feels like a boat trying to tug the tide along with it. You can do it Little Toot!
Still, we’re a long ways away from knowing how good the next iteration of the USMNT will be. Or how good Pulisic will be for that matter. After all he’s still too young to buy a beer… in Canada.
So we’ll wait. And watch. We’ll be entertained no doubt. But will we get we want — nay — deserve? After all, this is ‘Merica, the best country in the world. Cheeehoooo!!!
Only time will tell.
