Yes, It Is a Beautiful Game
It's because we see something in the game that we see in ourselves.
His name was announced with slight fanfare, mostly drowned out by the thousands of blue and white-clad cheering Hondurans in attendance. An enormous amount of sound is still capable of radiating through our stadium's old bones and cavernous corridors.
The perception is that this tournament doesn't really mean much in the grand scheme of things. It's a "B" team cup. A nicety. Something to watch while we wait for more important soccer matters.
Despite that, something good was going to happen at RFK last night. And if those in the stands didn't explicitly acknowledge that fact, they were hoping for it, thinking of it, willing for it to happen. Because in the often-mythic world of soccer, those kinds of occurrences are what makes the patient build justifiable. And even though such things are so often attributed as the work of fate or magic, they are more times than not the work of one individual and their desire.
It's because we see something in one player that we see in ourselves.
Santino Quaranta will be the first to admit that he's made some mistakes, ones that brought him to the brink of losing it all. But if our heroes have taught us anything, it is that one man's mistakes hardly define him. So what a moment it must have been for the Marylander: To see his name on that pinstriped jersey. To proudly walk out in front of a massive crowd in a stadium where he's labored to assert his tenacity. To be in front of his people, his wife, his children. To listen to the anthem of his country. To rest his hand over his chest and soak in one unforgettable moment. To quietly let the tears well up in his eyes.
It's because we see something in one play that we see in ourselves.
In a game rocking between two sides like a boat on the high sea, Quaranta gave an all-out effort. After all, he'd know better than most that the next chance he'll get to make this kind of impression could be months away, years away, never to be seen again. But it was one play, one movement, which cemented this night as one that the D.C. United man will never forget. Robbie Rogers moved quickly down the left flank; then some outstanding pinball movement by Benny Feilhaber and Charlie Davies, and suddenly, the ball came into the area, quick and tight. Davies laid the ball down; Quaranta, cougar-like, saw the play develop and pounced on the speedy striker's clever lay-off.
Then: boot, ball, net. And, for good measure, a slide on the knees into the frenzied masses, who were all prepared to shower the hero of the day in a collective embrace -- near total redemption, in but a few short seconds.
It's because we hear something in their words which we use to inspire ourselves.
Quaranta, on this night: "It was a very special night for me, personally...just to be back on the field with the team. To listen to the anthem was very emotional for me. It's been such a fun and long road back. I was [overcome]. It's hard to explain. To be able to do it in front of my wife and my two kids...I just wanted to come back and be a good person and once that all started falling into place soccer came next. I've been enjoying life, I've been very happy off the field, like I said today. And I think being so happy at home has really done well for me on the soccer field."
It's because we see something meaningful that we hope to someday, somehow, see in ourselves.
That, my friends, is why we watch.
[Ed. Note: We'll have our regular recap of the Americans' 2-0 victory later this afternoon.]