"Don't talk about Landon unless you want to see me throw a hissy fit!"

As I sat outside Don Garber’s house waiting for the waaaaaambulance to take him away up following his sad, egomaniacal rant about Landon Donovan (one that he completely backtracked on at the MLS Allstar game last night), I realized that there is another member of the men’s national team who has served his country well but should now be allowed to move on.

When Bob Bradley was promoted as the interim coach of the red, white and blue, it was following the dismal three and out at the 2006 World Cup. While the USSF went about securing a permanent manager, he set to the task of improving a series of ills that plagued the American team.  One of those concerns was stagnation within the player pool, which he fixed early with a string of young call ups that brought energy to a side that went on to record some impressive results.

WE WIN!

Where Bruce Arena succeeded in raising the level on the national team to the best of his abilities, so did Bradley. During the past four-year cycle, the Americans have stepped into the roll of favorites, enduring far fewer anxious moments against the minnows of CONCACAF and continually issuing reminders to our neighbors to the south that their days of North American dominance are over.

Yes, and the Spain victory, that was sweet too.

But, facing facts is important. Only two coaches in the 2010 World Cup were holdovers from 2006 tournament and one of those is professional crazy person Raymond Domenech. And with a clear (relatively) path to the semifinals in their sights the US failed to take the opportunity with both hands.

Upon their return from South Africa, Bradley and Donovan appeared on the Daily Show, and it was clear to anyone who follows the game or either man’s career that, although they were pleased to have been part of a famous moment, they knew they should have done better.

It is time to free Bob Bradley and pursue a new coach, one who can instill in these players the confidence that they are not just resilient fighters, but talented, technical players who can dictate a match instead of absorb it.

That search, is a discussion for another time.

Now, instead of killing Bob Bradley for his flaws, let’s look at the aspects of his coaching style that make him a good fit for a new club. While the Fulham job seems out of reach, with Mark Hughes now installed as the favorite, Bradley has the mentality and pedigree to get it done in England. To hear pundits dismiss his name out of hand is not just anti-American, it is plain foolish.

Loyalty

"I Heart Bornstein."

A lot is made of Bob Bradley’s loyalty, sticking through thick and thin with players like Jonathan Bornstein. While he deserves to shoulder considerable blame for some questionable selections (you will still never convince me that Rico Clark was healthy enough to be playing), Bradley’s trust lies with the guys who got him where he is. Ultimately, there’s not a whole lot wrong with that—especially considering a move to Europe with the rampant instability in the transfer market, and players cast aside without as much as an explanation. A manager who is highly respected for his loyalty to the men who go to work for him should make him a hot commodity.

In a mid to lower table English club, Bradley could once again flourish amidst the opportunity of working with a smaller core of players and building them within his mold. He is a coach that helped construct the expansion Chicago Fire and immediately took them to an MLS Cup title. Later, following a disastrous first league season, he stepped into the Chivas USA, righting that ship. No longer burdened with the daunting task of scouting, selecting and fielding a team from the (relatively) vast US player pool, Bradley’s strong, personal relationships with individual players would serve to strengthen a club, rather than cause public outcry.

Fitness

As a Spurs’ supporter I remember a time in the not too distant past when Martin Jol (selected to manage Fulham until Ajax refused to allow his departure) was sacked from White Hart Lane following some truly dreadful results. When his successor, Juande Ramos took the reigns he was appalled by the awful diet and conditioning habits of many of his senior players. As a supporter, I was disgusted to hear that many of my favorite, albeit underperforming, players were as many as 20 pounds overweight based purely on their unsupervised diets.

Enter Bob Bradley. With the decidedly American approach to nutrition, conditioning, and strength training carefully calibrated to each individual player, is there anyone who could doubt the kind of results he would achieve in the fitness of his entire side?  While there would initially be whining about the strenuous preparations, players competing at the top level of the game would be remiss to not buy in to Bradley’s program.

Unity

As the US battled through a grueling pre-tournament training camp, the sentiments of the players were largely redundant. They hated the running and they hated the extra running and they really did not enjoy the weight training on top of the extra running. But, to a man, they all knew it would help them and they were all thankful for the opportunity. Those type of situations breed unity and teamwork, forging relationships amongst players who not only understand each other as soccer players, but also want to work hard for their teammates. Every time Ian Darke or Martin Tyler marveled at the Americans’ resiliency, Bob Bradley should have earned a gold star.  Character players help make cohesive teams, but without a manager properly pulling the strings in the build up to a major tournament, that type of unity does not occur.

The almighty 4-4-2

"My Name is Peter and I can't find the goal."

While Bradley spent the run up to the World Cup hammering square pegs into the round hole left by Charlie Davies, one needed to only pause and look at the Americans’ first opponent England to see the same story playing out. With Wayne Rooney (injured or not) attempting to lead from the front with a bevy of talented midfielders set to support him, Fabio Capello almost begrudgingly stuck with the traditional 4-4-2, trotting out Emile “Shrek” Heskey and Peter “I Suck at Soccer” Crouch to miss chance after chance. While England sulked their way out of the tournament through poor performances, the Americans’ fate was sealed not because of poor performances, but because of lack of sharpness and pedigree around goal.  In a country that prizes the formation he preaches, Bradley would have the option to fill out his lineup with players that suit his preferred tactical methods.

Not coaching his son

Here to stay.

If there is anyone still out there who thinks that Michael Bradley starts every important US match because he is the coach’s son, you are wrong. Very wrong. That said, while they are two frequently scowly men, it’s hard not to wonder if questions about favoring his son above the other players wears at the elder Bradley. A parting of ways might see a new coach put the extra work into the talented young midfielder to help him realize his enormous potential without shouts of nepotism because Michael Bradley will be the anchor of the US midfield for a long time.

So, please US Soccer, free Bob Bradley.  Don’t sack or demean him. Don’t remind him of what could have been. Thank him for his service to our country and wish him safe travels. Hopefully he will get an opportunity abroad and his efforts there can continue to enrich the American soccer tradition.

We decided to set up camp in Rustenburg, about 100 miles north of Jo’burg, up the aptly-titled Platinum Highway, or the N4. The town, awash with riches following the relatively recent discovery of the precious mineral, is unspectacular but rests in the foothills of the certainly spectacular Magliaesburg Mountains. You might remember the name from pre-World Cup fever—it was where Portuguese journalists were robbed at gunpoint mere days before the opening ceremony.

Rusty, with its red earth hills and gleaming new shopping mall, the Waterfall, would be our home for the better part of two weeks.  However, after seeking the advice of some of South Africa’s diaspora, we decided not to brave the aforementioned N4 after touching down at Oliver Tambo International Airport. After struggling to locate the Safari Club and then struggling further to manipulate the Euro-style heating unit inside, we bundled up and went to sleep, fully aware that when our eyes opened we’d see the African sun for the first time.

Our Honda Jazz, affectionately known as "The Blue Demon"

Our surprisingly good breakfast fortified us enough for the journey to Rustenburg. Our electric blue Honda Jazz (think Fit) sputtered onto the R21. It only took me about 20 minutes to foolishly exclaim, “I don’t know what all the fuss was about, this isn’t so bad…” How perversely comical those words would prove when less than an hour later, the N4 all but beat me into submission.

The roads in South Africa, while generously paved, are woefully narrow. Try to imagine if an important artery in our country, say I-95, was one lane. That would be the N4.  Oncoming traffic, a few inches away, whizzed by the Blue Demon at around 160 km/h.  Tractor trailers jockeyed for position with late model Audis and BMWs. The Blue Demon, in its feeble attempt to pass one of these behemoths, nearly collided head-on with a Mercedes sedan. It would be days before it, and more importantly, I would muster up the courage to try again.

After two sweaty-palmed hours, we pulled into our bed and breakfast, Terra Casa Guesthouse. Terra Casa is truly a diamond in the rough. The well-appointed, Mediterranean-styled mansion contrasted starkly with the otherwise pedestrian suburb. We unpacked in our room, the van Gogh suite, and hastily made our way to breakfast. The owner of Terra Casa, Elmarie, doubles as a world class chef, and her eggs benedict was simply a revelation. The lavish dining room, filled with World Cup tourists, was abuzz with excitement. It wasn’t just Elmarie’s delicate mushrooms that had everyone in a tizz, it was the reprisal of the Revolutionary War that was about to take place. Amongst the cockney and scouse accents we faintly deciphered a bit of Californian in there and had our suspicions confirmed when we spied a red jersey with the Don’t Tread On Me snake. Together with the couple from San Francisco we would form a traveling party later that afternoon to the Royal Bafokeng stadium in Rustenburg.

A failed attempt to navigate the murky waters of Rusty’s park and ride system behind us, we managed to make it to the shuttle pick up. The atmosphere was electric. The American Outlaws supporters group dueled with England fans clad in Monty Python outfits.  The ensuing hilarity of chants reminded me why football is the best entertainment for the money. The AOs and English traded barbs with songs like “There were three English soldiers on a hill…there were three English soldiers on a hill…” and “If you’ve won a World Cup, clap your hands,” respectively.

To be fair, it was almost all good-natured and I heard of zero violence between the two sets of supporters. A text message from my sister indicated our Yanks outnumbered the blokes eight thousand to six thousand. Our seats, Category 1, were lamented by many in the American Outlaws as being nose bleeds. I, for one, love being high enough to view the entirety of the pitch at once, to have an aerial view of tactics and formation.

"There were two English soldiers on a hill..."

The game itself, from a purist standpoint, wasn’t amazing. The result, of course, was.  Steven Gerrard saw his 4th minute tally erased when Clint Dempsey’s tame effort squirted out of Robert Green’s grasp and barely trickled over the line. Pandemonium broke loose in the American section. My camera flew out of my hands and with them I filled the body parts of complete strangers. Anyone within 10 yards was not safe from my embrace. We hugged, we kissed, we cried. We felt like we had won. Lord only knows what we would have done had Jozy Altidore’s second half shot careened in off the post, instead of glancing wide. The result was perfectly immortalized with the New York Post headline, “USA wins 1-1!,” the subtitle indicating this was the best American draw since the battle of Bunker Hill. And who could argue?

Our jubilation spilled over into the car park where I slugged red wine and danced the Wocka Wocka with the locals.

Deviating from our whirlwind itinerary, we decided to spend the morning afternoon exploring Rusty. Having already driven through the seedy CBD (central business district), there wasn’t much left to see other than the Waterfall Mall. Side by side with the world’s greatest consumers, the Yanks and the Brits, we stammered into store after store in search of World Cup regalia. We filled our bags and then our stomachs, stopping to take in a match and some great seafood curry at the Cape Town Fish Market, an upmarket chain restaurant of South Africa.

With Sunday blown on shopping and eating, we combined our Sunday and Monday itinerary and headed north for Pilanesburg Game Reserve. Billing itself as a malaria-free park, the generously stocked reserve boasted of the chance to spot all of Africa’s “Big Five”:  the rhinoceros, Cape buffalo, lion, leopard, and elephant. I was decidedly skeptical, especially considering we missed the mark again on my anal retentive itinerary and showed up at the park’s gate well after dawn.

My skepticism was all but confirmed when we saw a massive open-top tour bus beat us to the punch into the reserve. At this point, I would have been happy to see a chipmunk. Well, it took all of three minutes to prove me wrong. Two humongous white rhinos were right by the side of the road, scarfing down a breakfast of grass and wheat. We giddily reached for our cameras and went to work.  Not five minutes in and we had checked one of the Big Five off our list.

The puttering of the Jazz would bring us face to face with not only the white rhino that day but scores of other species including the gemsbok, antelope, buffalo, giraffe, zebra and elephant. The elusive leopard and sleeping king of the jungle were yet to be found.  But Pilanesburg was a great success with hundreds of animals spotted in a mere six hours. Considering our manic two week tour of the subcontinent, the famous Kruger Park would have to be skipped.  So, it was on to Sun City, the continent’s largest gambling mecca.

The kitschy hokeyness of the Lost Palace proved to be little more than a Vegas facsimile, the first of very few disappointments in our trip. Of course, the other let down, a sorry excuse for pizza would await us next as we watched an own goal and a Dirk Kuyt rebound trip up a plucky Danish side. The unbridled excitement of watching the World Cup live would be tempered with some of the poorer television viewing experiences I’ve come across. We left Sun City and made our way back to Rusty.

Before dawn the next morning, a South African Airways jetliner would take us to Cape Town. We touched down Tuesday on a misty Cape morning. Our driver whisked us from the car park to the highway towards the Victoria and Alfred waterfront, our home for the next four days. I couldn’t help but notice the shantytown that straddled the highway. The hotel driver informed us this area was called Cape Flats. The houses were built from tin, some lacking complete roofs. Apparently, these people were waiting for government housing to be built, a process that would take years.

As I later reflected on the juxtaposition of the Cape Flats and the V & A Waterfront, I couldn’t help draw a parallel that hits closer to home. Around the corner from our apartment, in fashionable Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia’s elite dine on $60 steaks at Smith and Wollensky, near the base of the Rittenhouse Hotel, all the while homeless men, a mere hundred yards away, fight rats to salvage cigarette butts and food remnants. The dichotomy of the affluent V & A waterfront and the Cape Flats invoked the same feelings of sadness. We were here for our honeymoon, for the five star treatment. But thankfully that was put into perspective upon seeing how the majority of South Africa’s 48 million residents lived—in poverty. It is the single greatest problem facing our planet today. South Africa, with most of its people living on less than $1 a day, is certainly no stranger to it.

Later in the week, our tour guide would illuminate more issues. One of particular significance, was crime. There are 50 murders in South Africa each day, a startling statistic considering the country doesn’t even boast 50 million people. By contrast, around 60 people are murdered each day in the U.S.A., a country of over 300 million people. Media pundits, sensationalist outlets, and bloggers from here to kingdom come were quick to point this out in the lead up to the World Cup kickoff. But they didn’t paint the complete picture.

Freddy, our city tour guide Wednesday, came close. The overwhelming majority of the violence, according to him, was perpetuated by black South Africans against immigrants from neighboring countries, particularly Zimbabwe. The refugees, fleeing political strife and economic collapse in their home countries, came to South Africa seeking work and a better life.

Well, they got one out of two.

Prepared to work for any wage, as low as ten cents on the dollar compared with their South African counterparts, the immigrants found employment at every turn. This of course, provoked a reaction from the inhabitants of their recently adopted country, a reaction which oftentimes turned deadly. The President, Jacob Zuma, has an interesting, humanitarian take on the subject. He rightfully concluded that these people would be offered safe harbor for it was they who took in hundreds of thousands of South Africans during the brutal apartheid regime. Reciprocity, if not brotherhood itself, was evident.

Race relations are refreshingly blunt in South Africa. Our driver, Freddy, nonchalantly explained the difference between the people of South Africa: “whites” were Caucasians from all over—Britain, Portugal, and of course Holland; “coloureds” were biracial and could be any number of combinations of Indian, Malaysian, African, and European; “blacks” were people who migrated from central Africa—Congolese, Bantu, Zulu, etc.

Freddy himself was as he described, “a black person with a big nose, a Bantu.” He spoke of all different ethnic people from a country who despite the above atrocities, was mostly at peace with itself. The latent racism—“Some people just couldn’t adapt” as Freddy put it—was overt, easily identifiable if not tolerable.

It got me to thinking about the racism in this country, the covert. If racism and race relations are front page news in South Africa, they are merely the subtext on American shores, hidden from plain sight, but undoubtedly crucial to the bigger picture. We have not become colorblind, as reported, but rather colormute. We simply refuse to discuss race relations any longer, sweeping it under the rug, using broad and dismissive language to marginalize its relevance. Although South Africans could learn from us in terms of city planning and highway networking, it’s us that has a great deal to learn from them concerning race and equality. If it’s one thing I learned about South Africa its that it is a country united.

But just a day before I was bemoaning the plight of the residents of the Cape Flats, I was ironically, but hopefully not to hypocritically, exploring the Cape’s winelands. My wife and I booked a private tour of the towns of Stellenbosch, Franshoek, and Paarl. We surveyed South Africa’s incredibly underrated varietals and blends—shiraz, pinotage, cab franc, and scores of others. The highlight of the day was lunch at La Petite Ferme (The Little Farm) a wonderful little vineyard nestled amongst rust colored foliage and towering oak trees. My fish stew was as unbelievable as the red wine I used to wash it down.

Our German tour guide, Jochen, had an uncanny grasp of South African history and provided us with all the background we needed on local winemaking. The crux of his dissertation was that the Dutch were basically crap at making wine so they imported the Huguenots, French people who freely made wine but couldn’t freely practice their religion. It was a win-win situation for both parties—the Dutch got all the knowledge the could possibly need with respect to the growing of grapes and cultivation of wine and the Huguenots got a beautiful place to worship God in the way they wanted.

We breezed through the hills of Franshoek and soaked in the sun of a glorious day. Our bellies full and bodies warmed from a day of sun and wine, we made our way back to the waterfront for a night of World Cup matches,  the highlight of course being the Brazil right back, Maicon’s sublime finish against North Korea. The goal, from the most improbable of acute angles, was necessary as was Elano’s side foot because the North Koreans made a spirited fight of it and drew a goal back late on. We went to sleep fuzzy from more wine and dizzy from Maicon’s genius.

Little bugger almost took a digit with him

The next day was a tour of Cape Point, including the Cape of Good Hope, the most South-Western point in all of Africa. Aside from Freddy’s political discourse, the best parts of the day were the seals at Seal Island, the penguins at Cape Point and me almost having my hand bit off by a giant ostrich.

That night we dined at a relatively mediocre Italian restaurant in the mall near the V & A waterfront and watched freshly signed Manchester United forward Javier “Chicharito” Hernadez undress a decidedly poor French side.

We were up early the next day and on a plane headed back to Jo’burg, where our second match, Slovenia v. USA awaited us. We hopped back in our electric blue Jazz, and after paying a shockingly low short-term parking fee, scooted out to explore the city. After taking a two hour motor tour of Sandton and the surrounding neighborhoods, we made our way to the park ‘n’ ride.

This was by far the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had getting in and out of a stadium. The worst, you ask? A 1998 Pearl Jam concert at the E-Center in Camden when it took us three hours to exit the parking garage. Apologies to all you E. Vedder fans out there but five-plus hours of 90’s-era grunge is not my idea of a wonderful evening. Anyway, I digress—back to Ellis Park.

The stadium is a throwback and full of unabated kitschiness. Street vendors sold various meats—grilled lamb and pork and chicken.  Inside the stadium the fare was even better. Our seats were conveniently located right in front of a counter selling curry pies! Sure, I still had to wash it down with the King of Beers but it offered a welcome respite from the radioactive crisps we had been devouring up until that point.

The game itself began in horrifying fashion. 55,000 people and the entire starting eleven of team U.S.A., watched, paralyzed, as Valter Birsa picked up the ball 25 yards from goal and ripped a left-footed shot past a statuesque Tim Howard. Another game, another early letdown. Things went from bad to worse when just before the half, Zlatan Ljubijankic was left unmarked and made no mistake in slotting home underneath Howard, 2-nil Slovenia. The U.S.A. was effectively out of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Then the spirited fight back. Landon Donovan, on a one-man counterattack, found himself with the ball inside the six yard box but almost on the endline. He waited and waited for help for what seemed like an eternity. The help never came. With nowhere to go but forward, Lando aimed and fired a rocket at the the head of the Slovene goalkeeper. He ducked and it hit the roof of the net!  Slovenia 2 – U.S.A. 1!  We were back in it.

The tension was building. A loss would almost all but extinguish our chances of advancement to the second round. But Jozy Altidore’s header found Michael Bradley inside the area and the U.S.A. midfielder perfectly volleyed home to level the score at 2-2 with less than ten minutes to play! Resume random hugging and kissing.

Our midfield section almost reached a fever pitch when Maurice Edu’s finish put us ahead minutes later. However, the latest party was very short-lived as I noticed the lack of celebration and then protest from the American bench. I couldn’t see the linesman’s flag so I assumed a foul had been called inside the box. It had of course, as replays that evening would suggest, but on who was (and still is) a great mystery. But the important thing was, with a game remaining against Algeria, we were still alive, if not alive and well.

Driving home on the R24, drunk on another spirited fight back, we found ourselves a bit lost. Getting lost in Jo’burg isn’t a great idea. Not only are the roads poorly lit, signage is erratic at best. It was a crapshoot. I’m generally one not to worry and leave that to my wife but even I started to feel a bit nervy as we made turn after turn into dark, uncharted territory. In retrospect, had we known the R21 would never turn into an American-style interstate, we wouldn’t have been so fearful. Yet, fearing the worst for 100 km isn’t fun. Finally, after another white-knuckled foray into the South African highway system, we arrived back in good ol’ Rusty.

We awoke to the smell of another one of Elmarie’s skillful creations, french toast, this time, stuffed with cheese. After breakfast, it was time to turn back on the N4 and to Harbeespoort Dam for the Elephant Sanctuary. We sat in on a brief information session on the anatomy of an elephant and then trekked through the forest to meet three of the sanctuary’s inhabitants. This was certainly a highlight for me. We were able to touch the trunk, tusks, ears, and toenails of this mystical animal. The interactive hour culminated with an elephant kiss which left us with dirt marks on our cheeks. However, the real hilarity ensued next.

We had scheduled a ride on the elephants as part of the tour. We watched a few couples take the two lap ride and patiently awaited our turn to mount these massive beasts. Well, mounting proved to be a bit tricky. What should have been a simple exercise turned into full on comedy for the twenty or so Argentines, Mexicans, Dutch, and Aussies there with us. The formula was supposed to be a no-brainer—each couple would mount the elephant, woman first then man after the trainer had taken his place at the front. The diminutive jockey hopped right on, followed by my wife. Then it was my turn. My legs just wouldn’t do what my brain was telling them. Apparently, I’m the most inflexible human being alive, or at the very least, the most inflexible human to ever patronize the Elephant Sanctuary in Hartbeespoort Dam, South Africa.

Simba, the slightly more straddle-able elephant

I struggled to comply with the trainer’s request to relax my legs. Try after try to mount the animal proved unsuccessful. Now a small crowd had formed. They stopped taking pictures of their loved ones in front of elephants long enough to point and laugh at my misfortune and inflexibility. Thankfully, they were all speaking different languages. But their gestures were universal. I had to laugh too.

I decided to abandon ship and leave my wife alone on this particular adventure. But add insult to injury and here was their solution—I would ride Simba, the 10-year old elephant. The multicultural audience erupted into laughter when they saw the trainers walk over my replacement pachyderm, a mini elephant. And of course, I still struggled to straddle the damn thing.

We relived the story over some more great wine and my one millionth plate of fish curry at the Cape Town Fish Market that night. The next day would prove epic as I’d check off one of my bucket list items—see Brazil play in the World Cup.

The walk up to Soccer City reminded me greatly of a walk I had done a year earlier—the mile long hike from the train stop to the Allianz Arena in Munich to see Bavarian giants Bayern battle FC Barcelona in the Champions League. The glowing orb of the Allianz that night looked like a space ship. Soccer City looks like a calabash, a traditional African cooking pot. It’s giant mosaic tiles interlocking for thousands of square feet is truly an architectural miracle.

Inside the stadium, Luis Fabiano, performed a miracle of an altogether different sort. The Brazilian center forward appeared to handle the ball not once, but twice, when flicking the ball up and over two Ivorian defenders before smashing home on the volley.  This would be his second tally of the night and Elano would make it three before Didier Drogba pulled one back for Les Elephants.  Had I remembered my camera, I would have captured the most iconic image from that night—(no, not Kaka being wrongfully sent off) two female Ivory Coast supporters sobbing quietly right next to me, their face paint falling prey to the tears and then gravity.  I would have felt even more sympathy for them had I not been freezing my ass off.

The elevation of Jo’burg and the elevation of our nosebleed, Category 2 seats, caught up with me by halftime. The three plastic bottles of Bud I chugged before kickoff had long worn off. It was time to high tail it out of there. Thankfully, I wouldn’t be braving the N4 or the R24 that night as we smartly booked a hotel close to the stadium. We split a private shuttle with a Ugandan man and his two children. We laid down cold but thankful we had witnessed a little Samba magic and a few goals.

Monday saw us back in the Blue Demon and back on the road as we made our way to the Rhino and Lion Reserve. We checked off another item on our to-do list as we played with two-month old lion cubs. Compared to the openness of Pilanesburg a week earlier, we were a bit saddened by the captivity. We hastily concluded this was merely a glorified zoo. But we were here so we had might as well check out some animals.

We snapped a couple of photos of resting tigers and some bigger lion cubs. The chain link fence separating us from them didn’t make for a great photographic experience. So, I decided to move in a bit closer for the next set, the wild dog enclosure. Me being the bright boy I am, I figured if I could get the camera lens in between the holes in the chain link fence, it would give off the illusion that there was nothing separating me from the wild dogs. Great idea, right?  WRONG!  I felt this unbelievable force slam into me, knock me back and the camera from my grasp.  The most intense fear I’ve ever experienced struck—had a lion escaped from its cage? A rhino?

No, far, far worse. I felt surges of electricity coursing through my veins and nerves and my entire body. The fence was electrified!  And what had I used as a conductor? My penis. When I was leaning in to take the picture of the wild dogs, I must have inadvertently made contact with the front of my pants. The look on my wife’s face must have mirrored my own as she was aghast with terror.  After the heart palpitations subsided and I realized that I wasn’t going to drop dead, I fished out the camera from the brush at the foot of the fence and hightailed it out of there. We found a remote spot in the reserve to check this all-important apparatus for burn marks. Phew. Nothing. I was definitely shaken, a bit in pain, but otherwise thrilled to not be a corpse or be rendered instantly impotent.

Cute now, killer later...

With the possibility of continuing the family name still on the table, we went out in search of lions. After circling the reserve for a couple of hours we threw in the towel. We’d have to be resigned to seeing just the elephant, rhino, and cape buffalo out of the African Big Five. For some reason though, I took a trail that we hadn’t been down before. It wound around and around until we reached the perimeter of the reserve. I slowed down and right next to the car were two sleeping lions! Our shrieks barely nudged the pair from a deep slumber, our presence not affecting their cat naps in the least. We snapped photo after photo and finally a yawn! It was everything I had dreamed of, quite literally.

When I was a little boy, I had this reoccurring dream. I would be on a beach in South Africa, by myself, and there would be lions frolicking in the foamy whitewash of the ocean, right alongside great white sharks.  And now, so many years later, I would be face-to-face with these kings.  The thing that struck me was the size. Aside from the flowing mane surrounding their faces, they were relatively small, the size of huge dogs.

Of course, we didn’t get out of the car to check, as one man idiotically did. The guard at the gate to the lion reserve pleaded with us to remind this man ahead of us just how dangerous it was to exit the vehicle. She then recounted a story of some Japanese tourists.  Driving around the park, they had spotted some sleeping lions. One member of their group thought it would be hysterical to get a picture with himself placed among the unconscious beasts. Well, they didn’t remain that way for long. Startled by the man, the lions immediately rose from their slumber and mauled him to death, the ultimate price paid for a blatant disregard of the brutal power of nature.

Thoughts of my sterility and that poor Japanese man’s stupidity occupied my mind as I watched a mauling of a completely different variety—North Korea succumbing to the constant barrage of Portuguese attacks. We ate a South African take on a panino and drank some Coca-Cola at the reserve’s restaurant as Ronaldo and co. bagged seven in a stroll to victory.

Mexico v. Uruguay awaited us on Tuesday. The seats for this match were arguably the best of the tournament for us. We were in a midfield section, near the corner, about ten rows from the field, just close enough to see the look on a Mexican streaker’s face go from elation to depression as he was handcuffed. The game itself was lively with Mexico taking the initiative in order to try to avoid finishing second in the group and a likely meeting with Argentina in the second round. However, it was not to be as Luis Suarez, the Ajax forward, headed home a perfectly weighted cross, 1-0 Uruguay.

The Uruguayan fans reminded me how much I love football supporters’ songs and how much I loathe the constant and arbitrary chants of “USA, USA, USA!”  Seriously, we need something a bit more clever, if not musical, then that. Their faces painted blue and flags in tote, we departed some very happy Uruguayan fans.

But it was the Mexican fans who came to party that night in Rustenburg. Seemingly unscathed by the earlier shutout, scores of El Tri fans headed to Dros, a local watering hole, as we did. I ate a piece of hake as long as my arm and washed it down with some pretty average Castle, the South African response (probably a poor word) to Miller. Amongst the dancing and singing aztecas, we watched Argentina undo a resolute Grecian side, thanks to two dinosaurs named Martin: Demichelis and Palermo, both from close range. Back to Terra Casa and a good night’s rest before our last full day in South Africa.

And what a day it would be. We drove the 90 minutes or so to Pretoria and explored the city, including the sprawling Brooklyn Mall. Pretoria is an historic university town, much like Boston—leafy and green and inviting. Unfortunately, inviting, the Algerian defense was not. Much like they had kept the big guns of Rooney, Gerrard and Lampard at bay, Algeria was blanking the United States.  They sat with nine men behind the ball, a bizarre strategy considering they too, had to win to survive the group. Getting constant updates via various surrounding smartphones, we knew a Jermain Defoe strike had given England a 1-nil lead over Slovenia and that the only way through now was to win. We thought it was never going to come.

I had already begun writing the obituary—it was a great trip, but ugh, what could have been… And then, out of nowhere, at the very death, with almost the last kick of the game, Landon Donovan slams home a rebound to put the U.S. ahead and through to the knockout rounds!

Pandemonium.

I grabbed and shook the railing in front of us, I thought it was going to break right off. I then grabbed my wife and shook her to the point I thought she was going to break. Then I proceeded to grab everyone within a three foot radius—a bald man’s head was kissed, a 15-year old kid was bear hugged, a random girl was embraced. I felt the tears coming. Such a fine line. We didn’t think it was coming. I jumped up on my seat and stomped on the thing so violently I thought I would bring down all of Loftus Versfeld. A small fight broke out between Algerian and American supporters. We didn’t care.

Landon Donovan had just given us—no, check that—a whole nation a lifeline. We didn’t have to go home short of the knockout stages again. We were through! The dancing and singing carried on long into the night. It was well over an hour from when the whistle blew before we even considered leaving the stadium. The whole car ride back, we listened to the radio and reports of Lando’s wonder strike. It was, undoubtedly, the single greatest sporting moment I had ever witnessed and one of the most important goals to ever be scored by the United States National Team. As we split a pizza that night back at Terra Casa, we dreamed aloud of a U.S. semifinal birth for the first time since 1930 and the first time in the current 32-team format. Victory never tasted so good.

The next day was spent peacefully on the rural roads of Jo’burg’s surrounding bush. We randomly came upon a giraffe and then marveled at the implausibility of that happening almost anywhere else on Earth. As we said a tearful goodbye to Elmarie and Terra Casa and all of South Africa, we immediately set about devising a return trip. South Africa, a country so wonderful composed of colorful landscapes, people, and animals deserved more than a two-week whirlwind tour. But as our plane jetted off at Oliver Tambo Airport, I settled in for a well-deserved sleep and dreamt of lions playing in the South African surf.

The latest World Cup podcast is up on KYW Newsradio’s web site, recorded Sunday, after the U.S. loss to Ghana. KYW editor Greg Orlandini and PSP editor Dan Walsh break down the crushing loss that ended a dramatic World Cup run for the U.S. and look ahead to what comes next for Bob Bradley and the national team.

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Writing about disappointment and disaster can be cathartic, can’t it? Hopefully, reading what is written can do the same. The US was dumped out of the World Cup by Ghana for the second straight time. What is worse is that while this game was called much more fairly, the US looked to have created the better chances.

The US did not finish in front of goal and made a couple of defensive errors that allowed the Ghanians to score. Neither of the errors created gilt-edged opportunities, and the Ghanians showed good skill to make the most of the US errors. Against CONCACAF opposition I suspect that neither of those chances goes in.

The Ghanians played very well on the day and the US did not play their best. The Ghanians were organized in the back and counterattacked well. They stuck to their game plan and it paid off. The US looked out of gas emotionally and physically. The team had spent a lot of energy against Slovenia and Algeria. While Ghana worked hard in their group, their defensive counterattacking style maybe allowed them to avoid expending so much energy.

The US wasted probably the best opportunity that the US will have in my lifetime. Their group opponents were probably the most beatable they will ever get. The bracket to the semifinal was also the weakest they will probably ever see again. Neither Ghana nor Uruguay are teams that the US couldn’t beat. Neither is a soccer powerhouse.

The US came back from another early goal, tied the game and took it to over time. The Ghanians got some luck and put away a garbage goal. They punted the ball down the field, and their star striker out ran the US defense to put the ball in the back of the net. They were lucky to get that opportunity. The game was close, and the Ghanians just edged us. We are disappointed, what else can you say?

So, what now. Well, everyone takes an emotional break after a long 4 year build up. From CONCACAF qualifying to the World Cup this US team has been the most fun to watch yet. The entire team has improved since 2006, and the team appears poised to continue its long steady trend of improvement since 1990.

This incarnation of the national team has created more scoring chances than any previous team I can think of. The defense has not been as airtight, but scoring goals is more exciting. The US team has shown much better tight, quick one-touch passing. They have also shown more individual skills and creativity. Of course we aren’t close to the level of a Spain, Brazil, or Argentina in that respect, but I feel like the US team is fun to watch. Previous incarnations have been much more defensive and compact like the Ghanians or the Uruguayans. The US appears to play a more open and attacking style than in the past. The major characteristic of the team, though, has been an unbelievable strength of character to fight until the bitter end. As a fan, that has to make you proud. Having a team that never gives up also makes you feel like you always have a chance to win, no matter what the score is.

Even though the outcome against Ghana was a disappointment, there are plenty of positives to take away from our performance in this World Cup. We tied England, we made some amazing comebacks and we topped our group for the first time since 1990. We played some good soccer at times. We created a lot of goal scoring chances. We were entertaining to watch. We lost to a good team by only a hair in overtime. Just getting out of the group stages is an accomplishment in the World Cup. Look at Italy or France to see the quality of teams that can get dumped in the group stages. For a look at unlucky bounces that can lead to an easy goal, look no further than the first German goal against the English.

Although the US might have been able to get further in the tournament, their performance wasn’t any worse than some of the top teams in the World. For a tournament that includes every team in the World and spans four years, making it to the final 16 teams is quite an accomplishment. Just making it to the World Cup is an accomplishment. There are plenty of quality teams that don’t make it every cycle. Look at the Czech Republic, Russia, and Ireland this time around. The fact that the US has made it to the World Cup from qualifying every cycle since 1990 is an important accomplishment.

In a few more months we can all start thinking about 2014. There are all sorts of questions to ask and possibilities to consider. I will be as happy as a clam considering all the different options and watching future qualifying games. Until then I am left with just a few thoughts on the US team.

The US appeared to be missing two key ingredients in this World Cup cycle. The first major piece was not having a successful and recognized 1^st division striker playing in Europe. Charlie Davies appeared to get close to that level while playing in France, but of course he was injured. Jozy Altidore is still too young and inexperienced to fit that bill. He has talent, but he isn’t like a 20 year old Wayne Rooney, for instance. In another 4 years he may be a very good or World Class striker. At this point I would say he is just a good player. In 2006 we had Brian McBride, who had been scoring regularly in the English Premier League.

The second major piece lacking was a speedy center-back. In 2002 we still had Eddie Pope, who had the speed and skill to match many World Class strikers. Although Pope spent his whole career in the US, he turned down opportunities to play in England because he didn’t want to leave the US. We haven’t had a quality speedy center-back in some time. Our current center-backs have good skill, but don’t have great speed. Bocanegra and DeMerit are good, and Onyewu on his game is a very good center-back. Maybe Clarence Goodson is good also, but none of them has much speed. Having Onyewu as the strong bruising, aerial expert alongside a speedy center-back like Eddie Pope would be a great combination. So far no one has emerged to take that role.

Although we certainly could use another Claudio Reyna or John O’Brien to marshall the midfield, a speedy center-back would have prevented a lot of goals the US gave up, while a more established and experienced striker would have put away some of the chances the US missed.

As for the coach, I still believe that Bob Bradley is a quality coach. Many people disagree, but he put together a side that created a lot of chances, fought tooth and nail, finished first in qualifying, topped its World Cup group, won the Gold Cup, finished second in the Confederations Cup, and was knocked off in overtime in the round of 16. That is a serious set of accomplishments that can possibly only be matched by Bruce Arena leading up to the 2002 World Cup. I would rate Bradley’s accomplishments as higher than Arena’s. That being said, it would be nice to see what the US could accomplish with a recognized World Class head coach. Maybe a Guus Hiddink, Fabio Capello, Jurgen Klinsman, etc. could take us even further than Bob Bradley? So what did you think of the US team this World Cup? What do you think of Bob Bradley? What did you see as the weak points of the US team?

The methodology that the SPI uses appears to be the best publicly available. If this were an international friendly played in Europe, then the US would be favored for the match. The SPI predicts that the US would have an average goal scoring rate of 2.2 goals per match and would concede an average of 1 goal per game. Ghana on the other hand is rated as scoring on average 1.4 goals per match, while it would concede on average 0.8 goals per game. Overall the US is rated out of 100 as a 78.3, while Ghana is rated as a 71.8.

The two major differences in the calculation in this instance are that Ghana is missing its star player in Michael Essien, but are playing on their home continent. Furthermore, Ghana will most likely be the only African team left in the tournament as Ivory Coast would have to overcome Portugal’s goal differential to advance. While the local support that Ghana will receive tips the normal balance in this match in favor of Ghana, all-in-all this looks like a dead even match on paper.

The conspiracy theory is that Ghana will be favored by FIFA to advance through the tournament as they will most likely be the only African team left at a World Cup on African soil. In such a view it  is possible that the referees will be unofficially receiving the message that an African team should be given favoritism.

Both teams will be coming off of short rest, so there is no advantage one way or the other there. The talent level of the players appears to be roughly equal. Even though Ghana is without Essien,  they still have a number of players with top flight experience throughout Europe. Their dangerous striker, Gyan Asamoah, plays for Rennes in France with Carlos Bocanegra. John Pantsil plays for Fulham with Clint Dempsey. Andrew Ayew is dangerous on the wing, and Stephen Appiah is an experienced leader in the midfield.

Ghana are a much stronger team than either Slovenia or Algeria in terms of the individual players. Their organization and defensive posture are on par with the Slovenians, which means they are very difficult to break down and their results in the group stage bear this out. They were able to prevent the Germans from scoring more than one goal, and they looked dangerous on the counterattack.

The Ghanians have shown strength, speed, fitness, strong passing, and creativity. They are a dangerous team and they came close to scoring a number of goals against Germany, which is not an easy thing to do. They appear to play with a defensive 4-2-3-1 that breaks quickly on the counterattack. They stop up the midfield, break up the attacking play, and use their speed to get past opposing defenses.

The US will need to make sure that they don’t fall into the trap of committing too many men forward looking for a game winner. They certainly can’t afford to go down a goal early against this team because their tactics are designed to score against the team in search of a goal. The US will need to make sure that its outside backs don’t go too far forward because the wingers on the Ghanian team are quick and dangerous. Bornstein may again see the pitch on the left side to try and deal with some of Ghana’s speed. Onyewu might still remain on the bench, but his strength could be very valuable against a very physically strong Ghanian team.

Using Maurice Edu or Ricardo Clark in midfield will be very important to deal with the strength and speed of the Ghanian midfield. The US might also benefit from packing the midfield by taking off a forward, putting Dempsey centrally, and playing Feilhaber, Beasley, or Holden on the wings along with Donovan. Having Bradley and Edu hang back as holding midfielders is also probably a good idea. This would leave Altidore up top alone, but with Dempsey just behind. This 4-5-1 could match up well against Ghana’s 4-2-3-1.

The US will have to pass sharply and not give up possession in the midfield or they could get exposed by the Ghanians’ speed. If the Ghanians come forward from the start as most teams have done against the US, then the US might be able to steal a goal on the counterattack.

If this were a group stage match,  a 0-0 or a 1-1 draw would not be surprising. Although this game could go to penalty kicks, both teams will probably try to decide the game before that. I would expect a 0-0 halftime score with the Ghanians pushing forward early. The US defense will look more improved and composed and will not concede early. That said, expect a cagey first half.

If there is no score at the start of the second half, expect both teams to start pushing forward more in search of a goal after the 60th minute. I predict a 2-1 US victory.

What do you think of the US team’s chances? What do you think of the Ghanian team? What’s your prediction for the match?

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Whew. Extra time is a great rule, ain’t it?

The Americans needed all 90 minutes and then some to knock off Algeria and secure a spot in the knockout stages of the 2010 World Cup. For most of the match, Algeria’s stout defense smothered the American offense with tough tackling and a threatening counterattack. Herculez Gomez, making his first start of the Cup, came close to breaking the game open early but the angles were tough and the striker struggled to pick out his spots.

A dubious offsides call (replays show it could have gone either way) prevented the US from taking the lead in the first half. Clint Dempsey followed up a deflected shot but was ruled off and had to wheel out of his celebrations. The call looked to be a bad omen for the Americans as they could not find the finishing that England enjoyed through Jermaine Defoe. The swift striker put England on top of Slovenia and made an American win over Algeria imperative for advancement.

In the second half, Bob Bradley threw caution to the wind as he replaced midfielders with strikers and summoned Damarcus Beasley from whatever it is he does while other people play soccer. With Beasley and Edson Buddle supporting Jozy Altidore (although Edson and Jozy were interchangeable most of the half), Bradley was essentially playing with five attacking players and Michael Bradley sitting in the midfield. Donovan and Dempsey pushed through the gaps between the strikers and the Americans showed an attacking tenacity they have rarely exhibited on the international stage.

Algeria wasn’t without their chances though, and it took some last ditch defending from the central pairing of Demerit and Bocanegra to keep the game even. Tim Howard played another mistake-free game and it is undeniably exhilarating to see an American player so regularly intimidate his opponents the way Howard does every match. His confidence inspired the back four to give a commendable effort, even if Algeria did manage to break Cherundolo and Bornstein down much too easily.

But for all the accolades this American team deserves, it has but one true star: Landon Donovan. For all of Howard’s brilliance, Dempsey’s genius and Altidore’s talent, it is clearly Donovan who was made for the big stage and whose heartbeat picks up the slack when the national anthem’s drums halt their staccato sound.

In the 91st minute, Donovan drove the ball through midfield with speed and power. Dempsey cut through the two central defenders while Altidore’s run was wide right. When the defense committed, Donovan poked the ball to Altidore who cut it back to Dempsey in the middle. Dempsey could only tap his shot into the onrushing goalkeeper but Donovan, continuing his sixty yard run, calmly sidefooted the ball into the lower left corner of the net. Then, as Algeria’s defense lay strewn across the six yard box, Donovan peeled off and dove into the corner, where the entire bench met him with energy that the team of scientists working on the Hadron Collider can only dream of seeing on their charts. Soon the entire team, a sweaty mess of day-glo pinnies and all white uniforms was piled on their number ten, their leader and best player.

After the match, Donovan cried as he tried to explain what the goal meant to him, his team, and his country.

What he said doesn’t matter. The tears said it all.

An uncertain back four gave us nervous jitters at the start with two misplays, including one where the ball was poorly handled in the air, resulting in a wicked shot off striker Rafik Djjebour’s foot that luckily found the crossbar. Coach Bob Bradley’s unfamiliar configuration in the back—absent was Oguchi Onyewu, while Carlos Bocanegra switched to central defense, with newcomer Jonathan Bornstein getting the start at left back—soon calmed, however, with Jay Demerit’s numerous aerial victories setting the tone.

For the remainder of the first half, the Algerians were only troubling when the USA once again allowed a gap between their midfield and their defense, leading to fury from Tim Howard after unchecked shots by Hassan Yebda, Djjebour, and, in the 38th minute, Karim Matmour. The defense, greatly aided by the fierce checking back of Michael Bradley, remained otherwise firm, with the Algerians only coming close to getting behind our guard through the air.

The insertion of Hercules Gomez up top almost payed dividends. Early on he met a brilliantly played right side cross from Steve Cherundolo with a scissor-kick that looked dangerous coming from the top left of the box but that sailed wide. Things looked promising for the attack, as Landon Donovan quickly followed this effort with a powerful shot that sailed low over the bar from decent range.

And then we revisited injustice.

Following a strong play by Bradley into the area, the ball wound up with Gomez, whose disappearance in the winding down of the first 45 minutes should be a footnote. After an initial shot, Gomez pushed the ball through to Dempsey, who roofed it into the upper tier. The cheers of US supporters rang hollow once again when the goal was disallowed following another vexing call.

To up the urgency, England soon thereafter went up 1–0 when Jermain Defoe struck from close range. Surely any weakling thoughts of holding out for the tie and hoping for the best couldn’t even begin to creep in.

But for the flurry of chances that ensued, we came away with only more frustration. Dempsey and Gomez seemed to impede rather than help each other in the 33rd minute following another brilliant cross by Cherundolo. Jose Altidore then seemed ready to pounce on an effort furthered by Dempsey a minute later, though he couldn’t get a decent shot away over the charging keeper.

If that wasn’t enough of a Charlie Brown moment, Altidore soon followed by handling a rebound off a defender—on a play to Donovan set up expertly by the highly active Bradley—by the near post like an NFL field goal kicker. ARGHH, GOOD GRIEF! indeed given all he had to do was pass it in with the inside of his foot.

Things opened up much more in the second half. Certainly there were hopes that the US, a proven second half threat through two matches, could exploit the back three of Algeria on the counter. At times, though, it was the US who looked exposed as they were too heavily weighted up top as they pressed for a goal.

And while The Desert Foxes were lucky to go without a red until extra time, Demerit should be much more thankful that his shirt pulling antics in the 50th minute during a corner didn’t serve up a PK or draw a card.

And where there was sheer luck, there was also more frustration: after nailing the right post in the 56th, Dempsey sent the rebound well wide and over.

Edson Buddle, subbed in at the 64th minute for midfielder Maurice Edu, signified Coach Bradley’s push for goal. Buddle showed strong effort right away, pushing the Algerians on the flank, and nearly putting away a header, before, in the closing minutes, confounding us all by his inability to find Altidore across the area.

The insertion of Benny Feilhaber at the half—on for Gomez, which led to Dempsey pushing up—combined with Bradley’s play, led to more creativity through midfield. The Brazilian born Feilhaber came close with a goal line run that unfortunately bounced the wrong way off the keepers calf, though a goal seemed certain if an attempt to cross had been made.

Bradley continued to make his presence felt with a powerful shot on Rais M’Bolhi that might have paid dividends if only he his delivery had the slightest bit of curve.  Instead, he kicked it straight at the keeper and so equaled Dempsey, who put his on chance well over goal.

The late addition of Demarcus Beasley for Bornstein further signaled the will to win at all costs. The ebb and flow produced some nervy moments, but the US shook everything off, be it the attacks of charged newcomer Abdelkader Ghezzal or an uncalled blow to the face of Clint Dempsey.

It soon appeared the clock was going to be the worst enemy of the US. If things remained unchanged then the myriad of chances  would soon be met by tears, the team out of the World Cup after not losing a single match, while also unable to take control of one either.

Landon Donovan, however, would have none of that. Carried equally by demons and angels, he strove into the area in extra time to emphatically send home a rebound resulting from a mad rush, a momentum seemingly born of the unified American will.

The result? Elation as the sun shines brighter and the Americans go charging into the round of 16, on forwards into the tournament knowing that now, anything can happen.

UNITED STATES 1 – ALGERIA 0

The US wins the group and now looks at a potential matchup with Serbia (maybe Ghana).

Enormous ups to Jonathan Bornstein: I don’t like him, you don’t like him, but he did his job well today. Maurice Edu played wonderfully off of Michael Bradley who just continues to shine. How much longer can people fail to accept how good he is? Dempsey ran himself ragged (as did Herculez Gomez), tracking back deep to help out and win plenty of ball. And Bocanegra was a mountain, just immense in his positional play and composure in the backline. Then there was Landon Donovan, working hard to stay in the play and finding the rebound that made it all worth it.

I’m opening up the floor to reactions. I’m sure more eloquently crafted pieces will follow this, but this one was just too good to be true. My buddy fell off his bar stool, almost getting trampled in the celebration and I have a suspicion that I was the one who pushed him.

Where were you when it happened? What’d you do when it all went down?

It would be a mistake to believe that the US is facing an easy game, however, the US should find the Algerians a bit easier to break down than the English or the Slovenians. The Algerians appear to be less consistent than the Slovenians in addition to having worse discipline and organization. Again, it’s not that they are poor in any area, it’s that they are relatively weaker. They showed strong defense and organization in their game against the English, however, the English also didn’t appear to play very well.

The hope is that the US will come out and play like they did in the second half against Slovenia, but I doubt we will see that. I would expect the US to start out slow again, but hopefully the defensive lapses have been sorted out, so that we don’t give up a goal early. The Algerians have the talent to capitalize on mistakes, and they have looked somewhat dangerous coming forward. Karim Matmour certainly has the ability to stick it in the back of the net. A couple of the Algerian midfielders also appear to have some strong passing and dribbling skills.

This is the third game where the US will be starting the same back line. This is also Oguchi Onyewu’s third match starting. The defense and in particular Oguchi Onyewu should look a bit more organized and in sync. Onyewu will, however, probably still not be at the top of his game.

The US back line could struggle in this game because the Algerians seem to have good team speed. In addition the Algerian attack down the right wing could be effective due to Carlos Bocanegra’s relative lack of speed.  A speedy and more defensive winger like DaMarcus Beasley might be able to help prevent Algerian attacks down the left of the US defense. Of course do you want to put on Beasley in place of Donovan or Dempsey. No. Then again, should Dempsey start up top with Altidore, we might see Beasley on the left and Donovan on the right. However, most likely we will see Holden ahead of Beasley, which would put Donovan on the left and Dempsey up top.

The center of the midfield will most likely be Bradley and Edu as this combination has coincided with the best of US play so far. Torres didn’t play very well against Slovenia, and Clark lacks the killer instinct Edu has in the penalty box. Putting Edu on the field seems to increase our chances of scoring on set pieces. He has made a number of scrappy plays in the box for Rangers and the US, and he showed his ability against Slovenia only to have the referee rob him.

Of course, Clark seems to be the best pure defensive midfielder and makes great defensive plays, even if he commits too many fouls. Altidore is sure to start up top unless his recent sickness keeps him out. Both Gomez and Buddle seem like attractive options to start in place of Findley, who lost his opportunity due to accumulated and unearned yellow cards. What were the referees thinking?

However, a more attractive option would be to have Dempsey start up top alongside Altidore. This possibility changes the midfield as discussed previously. Most likely Bradley will not start Dempsey up top because Bradley seems to like the strategy of switching Donovan and Dempsey back and forth with both sneaking into the center of the pitch. So, expect to see Gomez or Buddle up top to start. Buddle seems like the more likely option simply because Bradley appears to like using Gomez as a super sub later in games.

The Algerians played pretty well against the English and the Slovenians. They only lost to the Slovenians based on the poor play of their keeper. The Algerians have also shown some flair and speed in the attack, which makes them dangerous. Beyond that, the Algerians still have the possibility of making it through to the round of 16, so they have a good reason to fight. To go through, they have to win, so they are going to look to attack. They can’t afford to sit back and defend tightly against the US. Furthermore, the apparent weakness of the US at the beginning of games means that the Algerians will probably try to throw a lot forward for the first 10 to 15 minutes.

The US will need to keeps its composure and organization and should aim to sit back and absorb pressure early on and play with a counterattack. Landon Donovan’s speed will make him the perfect weapon on the counter attack. Altidore’s speed and strength might also pay off. After about 15 minutes the US should start looking more composed and ought to start pressing the Algerians offensively.

If the US starts off like they did against Slovenia in the 2^nd half, then I would expect to see two goals for the US early on. This is unlikely considering the long trend of shaky, nervous moments for the US at the beginning of matches. Taking everything together I would predict that the final score is 2-1 USA. The US will be able to break down the Algerians to score at least once from the run of play. The Algerians will have to foul the Americans near the box, so I would suspect a goal off a set piece also. However, the Algerians will be attacking and their speed will cause problems that will lead to a goal.

Finally, the referee should be better than what the US has seen so far as Fifa claims it is specially appointing a strong Belgian referee for the match. The US needs a win to guarantee going through to the round of 16. A draw might work if the English and the Slovenians draw because the US has scored more goals than the English. What do you think of the US chances against Algeria? Who do you think should start? What do you think the final score will be?