Winning is too many things
My in-laws were surprised at how loud I was screaming. I was standing in their sitting room, in Skerries, in Ireland, watching the USWNT defeat Germany in the Olympic semi-final. We’d had to find American tv channels so I could watch. When Sophia Smith scored, I yelled so loud I made the dog upset.
About halfway through the match, Julie Foudy mentioned that the final was on Saturday in Paris. Then, I said out loud, tentatively, disbelieving, “If they win, maybe I’ll try to go to the final.” Everyone heard me, but no one paid me any heed. As soon as the match ended, I whipped out my laptop, furiously trying to navigate the French-language Olympic ticket resale site. Bingo. There were plenty of tickets available. My mother-in-law couldn’t believe I really meant it. Neither could I.
I was going to abandon my family to watch a soccer game.
If you think about it, there shouldn’t be any difference between watching a sports game on tv versus in person. It’s not like the difference between listening to a band live versus on a record. Unlike a concert, where you can dance and hear differences in the performance, sports are results-oriented. Your team either wins or loses. You could argue that it’s easier to see the players on tv. Why is it “exciting” to be ata championship game?
This is what I was wondering as I strolled through Passy in the 16th arrondissement, on my way to the former home of Mbappe, Parc-des-Princes. The neighborhood was totally abandoned for the Olympics. I felt like I was in a very pretty zombie movie. I’d spent a considerable amount of money, flown away from my only free weekend with my husband’s family on our trip to Ireland, and likely given up my two-year journey breastfeeding my kid. Other than the fact that it was fun, why was I doing this? What was the point? Did watching the Olympic women’s soccer final live versus at home make any difference at all?
The game happened. Here are the facts:
The USWNT beat Brazil 1-0.
Marta retired from international football.
Alyssa Naeher made a game-winning save.
The United States stood on the podium and received gold meals around their necks.
We need to take our time to celebrate, of course. But once all the parties end and the sheen of happiness fades into the shape of what comes next, another question hangs in the aftermath: how did we do so poorly in the World Cup, and then win the Olympics? It’s an astonishing turnaround. Was it coaching? Did Emma Hayes fix the problems? And most importantly: what happens to the “the world has caught up” narrative?
The overwhelming story of the tournament seems to be that yes, Emma Hayes makes all the difference. Emma was able to come in after eight training sessions and bring home a gold. If this is what she did with the team in two months, imagine what she can do in two years?!
This is what we believe now because we won. When you win, you own the narrative. We didn’t win because Brazil got tired in the second half, surely. It’s not that we got lucky that two of their players went down. It’s not that Emma had a healthy Mal Swanson and mostly healthy Tierna Davidson, and a Crystal Dunn who was a bit further away from childbirth than in the Vlatko era. The margins weren’t that thin- right? Right?!
After our World Cup loss, the biggest narrative was that “the world has caught up.” There was a perception that the US had been so dominant in women’s soccer because our country diverts more resources to girl’s sports and collegiate women’s sports because of Title IX. Of course this is a little bit true, but I always thought it was overblown. It was an easy thing to focus on after a devastating loss, because how great is that? That women are getting uplifted throughout the world, and women’s soccer is more and more competitive? I agree that’s nice. But I don’t really think that’s what happened. I don’t think the world had as much catching up to do in the first place. I think sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. The US happens to win a lot, largely due to luck. There are so many factors that go into winning, it’s ineffable. It’s something about sports I find unsettling. Like all of our chat about coaching and lineups and formations is a bit like QAnon. We’re looking for things that aren’t there. Because winning is too many things.
Which is why my initial question stands: what does it mean to watch your country win an Olympic gold medal in person? Why the hell did I care enough to travel to be there when it’s really just margins of difference that produce the result? This is not rhetorical. I really wasn’t sure.
My thoughts turned to my daughter. The one I’d unceremoniously left back in Skerries. Why do I love her? I don’t know. I think it’s because I spend a lot of time looking at her. I watch her every move. I’m obsessed with what she eats and when she sleeps. I’ve poured so many of my resources into her.
I love the USWNT. I have watched them for hundreds of hours since I was thirteen years old. The players slowly change over time, but it feels like one continuous family tree to me, as old favorites remain and new players become old favorites. I have watched them fight for equal pay, and become champions in the face of a country that would like them to please go away because they are women, because they are gay women, because they are black women. Sometimes when I think about cheering out, “Go Crystal! Go Crystal!!” I tear up at the fact that I’m yelling a woman’s name, because in 2008 I had a man in a bar in the East Village tell me to“fuck off” when I asked him to put on a women’s sports game.
I watch the USWNT’s every move. I love them like I love my daughter. I’m not saying I love them as much, but I love them in the exact same way. I can’t tell you why I love them more than some other team. I just do.
I definitely could have watched this match at home. I would have been just as happy with the win. But there’s also a few things I know now that I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been there.
Here are a few things that aren’t facts, but are still true:
Alyssa Naeher saving a ball with her hand like that— she jumped SO quickly. It was astonishing.
When you cheer, the players can hear you. And maybe if you cheer a little louder, and a little more, you can help them win. Brazilian fans are great at cheering, so this felt like a huge responsibility.
It was very, very hot. I felt the same heat the players felt. I drank water during the hydration breaks, too.
USWNT fans are generally very, very kind. When the line for the women’s room was absurdly long, none of the men cared when the women used the men’s restroom.
The second the whistle blew, “Born in the USA” blasted around the stadium.
Rose didn’t know what to do with the poster they handed her on the podium, and her teammates had to tell her to put it on the ground for the pictures.
Naomi Girma was the last player to leave the podium. She lingered, soaking it all in.
Marta climbed into the stands to take pictures with fans. She stayed for a long, long time. I left the stadium before she stopped graciously taking photos, and I stayed for a really, really long time.
All the Instagram pictures of athletes in front of the Eiffel Tower— it was special in Paris. I got what it was like to stand there. The Olympic Rings nestled among the metal beams were oddly poignant, all-encompassing. The Games had a good vibe. Paris was, surprisingly, bought-in. On my flight home, everyone had been in Paris for the Games. It was collegial. And we all agreed: this had been fantastic.
When the whistle blew, and we were champions again, I cried. Because if they can do it, so can I.
I can’t really tell you why I bought plane tickets to Paris. I can’t tell you why it’s important that I was there. But I can tell you for sure that I don’t have words for how much it meant to me.