Reed Wilkey woke up Wednesday 50% Brazilian and 100% World Cup skeptic. That’s sacrilege on par with an Ohioan disowning football or a Texan recoiling at the smell of brisket, a Kentuckian thumbing his nose at college basketball.
“Mama is from São Paulo,” Reed’s dad, Josh, told me as we stood on the patio outside The British Bulldog, flanked by Michelob tall boys and USMNT jerseys, before a World Cup watch party that pitted the Stars & Stripes against the Dragons of Bosnia-Herzegovina. “(Her family is) hard core. Well, she is, anyway.”
He nodded at his son, tall for 15 with a neat patch of blond hair up top.
“He’s more of an American football fan,” Josh continued. “Which is another reason we’re here, too. To get him into his heritage.”
Reed says he’s a big Broncos guy. A major Bo Nix guy.
“But no World Cup Fever yet?” I wondered.
“A little bit,” Reed replied. “But just a little bit.”
“Tonight,” Josh said, “we’ll convert him.”
If you’re going to find soccer religion, The Bulldog at the intersection of 21st Street and Stout is a fountain of faith.
On the wall across the bar are autographs of former USMNT greats, scrawled inside a mighty shield. Capacity’s capped at just 66 patrons, yet the kitchen proudly punches above its weight when it comes to authenticity. The menu includes United Kingdom staples such as shepherd’s pie and giant breakfasts that feature black pudding — a fancy word for a savory sausage mixed with blood.
Nobody opens their arms to welcome strangers the way Denver soccer fans do, and the Scots aren’t the only ones who know how to party. So when Josh’s pal Brian Bohnert invited Reed and Josh to join him downtown on Wednesday, the two jumped at the chance. When the Yanks are chasing history, even Denver’s soccer agnostics are looking for a shotgun seat on the bandwagon. Plenty of room. Watch your step. And your wallet.
“Bring the boy,” Bohnert told Josh. “Let’s go watch some soccer.”
“What was your response?” I asked.
“(Expletive), ay!” he laughed. “I probably can’t say that.”
“Nah, that’s fine,” I chuckled.
Hey, man, these colors don’t run. Unless it’s all over the Dragons. Wednesday’s 2-0 victory in Santa Clara, Calif., sends the U.S.A. to the World Cup’s Round of 16 for just the sixth time since 1950.
“There are patterns and things, but this is new, uncharted territory,” Bohnert said. “The U.S. truly has a chance to win the World Cup. People didn’t think that (before). But we’ve got a good coach, and we had some drama in the team … but that’s why they play the game.
“So here we are. Why not us? Why not us?”
Bohnert is a cool dude by habit and a globalist by nature. He also teaches A.P. politics as part of his day job, during one of the more, shall we say, “interesting” political times in American history.
“The World Cup — it’s bringing people together,” Bohnert offered before the match. “That is the point of The Beautiful Game. And, you know, the world needs a little bit of a timeout.”
At its best, the game is a big tent of strange bedfellows. Bohnert got involved with the American Outlaws, a USMNT supporters’ group, on the way to a U.S.-Honduras match in Salt Lake City 16-ish years ago, when his cadre passed an RV in Wyoming that had broken down with guys in USA gear milling about the road.
When Brian’s group eventually set up in the fan parking lot in Utah, the soccer gods intervened. Bohnert was wearing a denim Alexei Lalas shirt and spotted a stranger walking by with the same outfit.
“Nice shirt,” the stranger quipped.
Then the stranger stopped.
“Wait. Did you pass us in Wyoming?”
He had.
“Do you guys need help getting back?” Bohnert asked.
“Actually, that would be awesome,” the stranger replied.
A few hours down I-80 later, they were strangers no more. Turns out the Wyo crew were members of a fledgling “Outlaws” group, or “AO” for short. They left Bohnert with some AO t-shirts and some contact info.
“They said, ‘If you want to create a chapter, you’ve got to do this, this, and this,'” Bohnert recalled. “And since then, we’ve traveled with them to the Estadio Azteca in Mexico, all over the place.”
Bohnert was even a midfielder on a local rec footie team that played proudly in jean shorts, nicknamed “Jorts FC.” One of Brian’s Jorts teammates, another midfielder in a dark blue USA shirt, laughed Wednesday as they rolled back the clock.
“We’re looking better than ever,” Robert Wilson of Arvada, another Outlaw, gushed when asked about the USMNT. “And we have the potential to do what we never have … how we play, how (effective) and determined we are. We don’t get through the game. We dictate the game.”
Control against Bosnia-Herzegovina took a while, granted. The U.S. had the better chances in the first half, although the Stars & Stripes and Dragons were even on shots (one each) going into the interval.
As Folarin Balgoun’s left-footed poke tickled the back of the net to give the Americans a 1-0 lead just before halftime, beer can after beer can was lowered to half-staff. Proud fists came out.
“USA!” they chanted. “USA! USA! USA! USA!”
It happened again in the 82nd minute, as Malik Tillman’s free kick curled hard to the left, eluding the keeper for a 2-0 American cushion that sealed the Dragons’ fate.
“USA! USA! USA! USA!”
Why not them? Why not now?
Even the converts believe.
“My opinion has changed after today’s game,” Reed told me, grinning, as the July sun set behind us.
“Why?”
“I think the atmosphere (here) helped,” he continued. He smiled again. “And that our team’s actually good makes everything better.”
Amen. Faith is a fickle mistress. But you never, ever forget that first kiss.
