The phone was filled with the brief, awkward silence of dead air, as Landon Donovan considered the question. In a little more than 24 hours, American soccer would once again be the butt of jokes, as haters dissed an embarrassing 2-1 loss to Jamaica, the first time U.S. men had been beaten on their own soil by a Caribbean team since 1969, the year Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.
Despite years of development, I’m not sure American soccer has decided what it wants to be. There seems to be no definitive red, white and blue brand when the U.S. men’s national team takes the pitch. So I wanted Donovan’s opinion: Does our country have a definitive playing style?
“I don’t think we do,” replied Donovan, the greatest living American soccer player. “You could define it as not really having a style.”
Donovan then described the way the USMNT plays, whether the coach in charge has been Bruce Arena, Bob Bradley or Jurgen Klinsmann. The words Donovan used were athletic, determined and persistent.
Yes, after all these years, the USMNT is a gritty, little side. That explains why it really wasn’t a shocker how the Americans advanced from a killer group at the 2014 World Cup. An underdog with bite is a role the U.S. men mastered long ago. It’s growing up that’s hard to do.
Winning an exhibition match against the Dutch or Germans is cool. But stomping an inferior side like Jamaica with a trophy on the line is more important, if the United States wants to be taken seriously as a soccer power, either around the world or here at home in the NFL-loving USA.
Yes, soccer in America has miles to go.
But look how far the sport has come.
As a child of the 1980s, when Donovan played basketball, he pretended to be Michael Jordan rising to swish a jumper at the buzzer. With a baseball in hand, the young Donovan envisioned himself as Orel Hershisher pitching a 1-2-3 inning. But when this same California kid juggled a soccer ball?
“I didn’t even know who to say I was,” recalled Donovan, who grew up without an American soccer hero to emulate.
So put aside for a minute the six championships Donovan won in Major League Soccer or his 57 career goals for the U.S. national team. He did something far more improbable.
Donovan became the first futbol star made in America, despite living in a country where real men traditionally threw touchdown passes or blasted home runs over the fence. While little girls could look up to Mia Hamm, it was Donovan who made it cool for red-blooded American males to love soccer.
A funny thing happened while screaming-headline-obsessed journalists waited for soccer to become the next big thing. Instead, soccer slowly became as ingrained in U.S. culture as the Toyota Camry. Hey, maybe it’s not for everybody. But it’s now far from foreign and found on almost every street in America.
“People recognize soccer is relevant and here to stay. And that wasn’t the case even 10 years ago,” Donovan said. “People don’t make fun of soccer anymore, because if you do, you sound like an idiot.”
Less than a year after hanging up his boots, Donovan is doing the usual search for purpose in the decades remaining for a 33-year-old retired athlete, with the understanding that “the reality for players is you’re never going to replicate the experience of being in the game.”
The search for what’s next brings Donovan to Colorado, where he will coach an all-star team of young pros Tuesday in the MLS Homegrown Game.
The MLS Homegrown roster that will play the U-20s from Club America includes Dillon Serna and Shane O’Neill of the Rapids. Unlike a young Donovan, the emerging players he will coach weren’t stumped for a U.S. soccer icon as kids. They had Donovan.
Could coaching be Donovan’s next calling? He frankly doesn’t know what the future holds, but says he is certain “my main goal in life is: What can I do to make myself and others happy? … I’m not so caught up in the ‘what’ as the ‘why.’ “
Where does the next generation of U.S. soccer go? And how does it climb to the top of the world?
If Donovan needs a purpose, maybe he doesn’t need to look any further.
Mark Kiszla: mkiszla@denverpost.com or
