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First Person: Watching America's Win Over Spain
Goal.com's Zac Lee Rigg caught part of the USA - Spain Confederations Cup semifinal in O'Hare International Airport in Chicago. He shares his experience.
Jun 24, 2009 9:57:50 PM
Chicago O'Hare International Airport, Ill.--I was in the air for most of the USA - Spain match, flying up to the Midwest to attend a wedding. Upon landing, I learned that all flights out were delayed due to some rain storms.
I found myself crammed into a sports bar that was showing the end of the Confederations Cup semifinal. A band of travelers interested in the match meant that there was no longer standing room in the small establishment, and more people peered at the televisions from outside.
Some were clearly U.S. fans. They cheered for the players, loudly, by first names. “C'mon Mikey. Oh, what a save by Timmy there.”
Others didn't quite know what they were watching, except that the United States was winning. One man, carrying a bag of McDonald's from next door, helpfully informed me, “This is an unexpected result. Spain is ranked number one in the world.”
In general, I don't tell people what I do first time of asking (frequent party conversation: “What do you do?” “I work on the Internet.” “Porn industry?” “I wish.”), and I didn't want to be distracted from the game, so I played along.
“Oh really?”
“I think so. But I'm pretty sure this is an upset.”
Little did he know.
Nearly every newcomer said the same thing: “Is this a joke?” Most seemed to think that, if it were a joke, it was a rather good one, and smiled or laughed.
When Clint Dempsey shoved home the second goal of the night, the cluster of knowing fans screamed, “Yes, Clint!” An English gentleman behind me was not as humored. He continued his phone conversation with some venom.
“Yeah, it's bloody 2-0 now. F***ing Dempsey scored the second, the guy who doesn't deserve to be on the f***ing pitch.”
I never bothered asking him why he, as an Englishman as his accent betrayed, cared that Spain was losing.
Eagerly watching the stunning result unfold, I failed to heed calls for boarding on my flight. By the time I pried myself away, sometime after injury time was announced, my gate had closed. Luckily, I managed to sweet talk my way onto the plane, and that's when the text messages started pouring in.
“2-0. Unreal.”
“We have to find Shane some ballet lessons.”
“I wonder if Rossi's NJ home got that in HD”
“I want revenge on Brazil.”
“What happened?”
I read them with wonder and delight until the flight attendant, a young lady from Trinidad with a charming accent, forced me to turn my phone off. I couldn't really share with her how much America had won today – on the pitch, in bars, and for the casual passerby in the airport.
Zac Lee Rigg is an associate editor for Goal.com
For more on the Confederations Cup, visit Goal.com's Confederations Cup page.
I found myself crammed into a sports bar that was showing the end of the Confederations Cup semifinal. A band of travelers interested in the match meant that there was no longer standing room in the small establishment, and more people peered at the televisions from outside.
Some were clearly U.S. fans. They cheered for the players, loudly, by first names. “C'mon Mikey. Oh, what a save by Timmy there.”
Others didn't quite know what they were watching, except that the United States was winning. One man, carrying a bag of McDonald's from next door, helpfully informed me, “This is an unexpected result. Spain is ranked number one in the world.”
In general, I don't tell people what I do first time of asking (frequent party conversation: “What do you do?” “I work on the Internet.” “Porn industry?” “I wish.”), and I didn't want to be distracted from the game, so I played along.
“Oh really?”
“I think so. But I'm pretty sure this is an upset.”
Little did he know.
Nearly every newcomer said the same thing: “Is this a joke?” Most seemed to think that, if it were a joke, it was a rather good one, and smiled or laughed.
When Clint Dempsey shoved home the second goal of the night, the cluster of knowing fans screamed, “Yes, Clint!” An English gentleman behind me was not as humored. He continued his phone conversation with some venom.
“Yeah, it's bloody 2-0 now. F***ing Dempsey scored the second, the guy who doesn't deserve to be on the f***ing pitch.”
I never bothered asking him why he, as an Englishman as his accent betrayed, cared that Spain was losing.
Eagerly watching the stunning result unfold, I failed to heed calls for boarding on my flight. By the time I pried myself away, sometime after injury time was announced, my gate had closed. Luckily, I managed to sweet talk my way onto the plane, and that's when the text messages started pouring in.
“2-0. Unreal.”
“We have to find Shane some ballet lessons.”
“I wonder if Rossi's NJ home got that in HD”
“I want revenge on Brazil.”
“What happened?”
I read them with wonder and delight until the flight attendant, a young lady from Trinidad with a charming accent, forced me to turn my phone off. I couldn't really share with her how much America had won today – on the pitch, in bars, and for the casual passerby in the airport.
Zac Lee Rigg is an associate editor for Goal.com
For more on the Confederations Cup, visit Goal.com's Confederations Cup page.
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