Friday I’m in Love: #USMNT

Too often on this blog, I write about something that’s gotten under my skin. I’m starting to fear that I sound more like cynic than I do an optimist.

Enough is enough. On Fridays, I’m going to write about something that is fucking awesome and makes me happy in the hopes it makes you happy, too.

For those of you who didn’t get the “Friday I’m in Love” reference, here’s The Cure song that inspired this cheerful post. Take a listen and dance like it’s 1992:

Not that you’ve got endorphins running through your body as freely as booze and crack flows through Mayor Rob Ford’s, let’s talk about something cool.

This Friday, I’m in love with the U.S. Men’s National (Soccer) Team, or for all you cool kids, the #USMNT.

I hope you watched the game on Monday. It was pretty fun. I’m not going to pretend that I had a come-to-Pelé moment that converted me from football to fútbol, but Clint Dempsey’s quick goal activated my Mel Gibson Patriot gene.

Fierce.

Fierce.

I quickly had visions of our Americans making a serious run in Brazil. Stars. Stripes. Bud heavy. Flag waving. National Anthem singing. Bruce Springsteen flying down to South America to sing “Born in the U.S.A.” before the championship game. Sounds great, right?

Then Ghana scored toward the end of the match. Shit. A tie. They’re really going to do the whole tie thing? Lame. I see why everyone in America hates socc….

GOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLLL! John Anthony Brooks, new American hero, with a header off a beautiful corner kick from another American hero Graham Zusi! Everything is right in the world again! Right Mel?

You wave that flag, Mel.

You wave that flag, Mel.

I’ll take that as a yes, Mel!

The Klins-MAN led us to victory. One of his German-American recruits (Brooks) proved to be the difference. Maybe I shouldn’t have given Jürgen a premature Hump Day Fuck You. Maybe my star-spangled visions will come to fruition. Maybe soccer will become a beloved American sport.

If the world was made of “maybes”… or wait, that’s ifs and buts, but no matter. I’m on the #USMNT bandwagon now and there’s no turning back. I’m bringing out my USA flag swim trunks on Sunday. I’ll probably cave and overpay for a vintage Landon Donovan jersey in the next few days. I’ll also be waving the American flag proudly.

I’d like to throw a quick shout out to all of my Chicago brethren, who packed Grant Park on Monday and cheered their asses off in only a way Second City sports fans can. Hell, maybe I’ll get a Chicago flag for Sunday, too.

I miss you, Chi Town. Keep drinking 312 and cheering your asses off.

I miss you, Chi Town. Keep drinking 312 and cheering your asses off.

This Friday, I’m in love with bald eagles, the bald Michael Bradley, and American Hero John Brooks. I’ve even got some love for Coach Klins.

There’s room for more on this bandwagon. Get your ass on here and let’s break some global hearts, America! We’re the underdog again and it feels so good. Right, Mel?

Is that a smile, Mel?

Is that a smile, Mel?

I’ll take that as a yes, too, you sly, beautiful bastard. U-S-A! U-S-A!

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