Goal.commentary: A Sleepy Morning In San Pedro Sula

Ironically, the Catrachos will now be rooting for the Americans who play Costa Rica in Washington D.C. on Wednesday. A U.S. win or draw combined with a Honduras defeat of El Salvador would end the quarter century drought.
 
Perhaps then, the polite applause directed toward the Stars and Stripes after the match was designed to curry favor. You know, a bit of extra motivation to spur the Americans on to victory at what promises to be a football fiesta in the nation's capital four days from now. You wouldn't be wrong to think that unless you saw the respect the blue-and-white supporters gave the Star Spangled Banner. It's rare in CONCACAF stadiums that the anthem doesn't get booed, rarer still that the home crowd quiets down and actually listens. Yet you could hear all about the "bombs bursting in air" just moments after the Honduran crowd exploded into a frenzy caused by a single blue firework after the announcement of their beloved Starting XI.
 
Throughout the week, this country's people -- happy to focus on something other than politics -- were genuinely excited to be within reach of el Copa Mundial. They felt confident in their team, the best one ever to take the pitch at Estadio Olimpico. Memories of the failed qualifying campaign for the 2002 World Cup where Honduras shockingly lost at home to Trinidad and Tobago and missed qualifying by three points still exist (especially for the older supporters), but the Golden Generation of Wilson Palacios, Thomas Hendry, David Suazo, etc. couldn't fail, could they?
 
Apparently, they could. Perhaps it's fitting that the man who suffered the most obvious shortcomings Saturday night happened to be Carlos Pavon, a 35-year-old holdover from the 2002 qualifying campaign.

This, of course, doesn't make the loss any less tragic. At halftime, the 45,000 supporters in Estadio Olimpico were strangely quiet. "Here we go again," you could tell they were thinking. While de Leon's strike three minutes after the break increased the noise by tenfold, it quickly subsided again as the U.S. drilled its trifecta home. Each time the ball flew past Noel Valladares, more air flew out of the 11-year-old venue. After the third goal, some Catrachos supporters even rose to leave.
 
But back to the present. It's just after 8 a.m. local time; another humid, lazy Sunday in San Pedro Sula. The football jerseys of last night have given way to normal weekend attire. If you weren't aware, you'd have no idea that the country played -- and lost -- its most important soccer match in 25 years last night. The man who sat passed out from exhaustion in the lobby of the Gran Sula Hotel last night is probably awake after a night's sleep, moving on with his life. To a person, Hondurans this morning are more reserved than upset. When your heart's been ripped out so many times before, you learn to move on quickly.
 
It's a similar feeling to the pre-2004 Boston Red Sox fan base. Before the team won a World Series, then another, and their fans turned turned into the most obnoxious group in sports, they spent 90 years as a punching bag. After a time, those body blows still hurt, but you develop strategies do endure the pain. You can see failure coming before it does, say at halftime on a cool night in San Pedro Sula.
 
But Hondurans, have faith. As a survivor of a couple crushing Sox losses, I can tell you that redemption comes, occasionally sooner than you think.
 
How's Wednesday?
 
Noah Davis covers the United States Men's National Team for Goal.com.