After the U.S. Men’s National Soccer Team’s (USMNT) emphatic victory over Paraguay and then dominating defeat of Australia, a historically soccer-ambivalent American public is suddenly paying attention—and reaching for explanations about the team’s surprising success. 

Some hail an American "golden generation" nurtured by youth soccer programs, come of age to fight on their native soil: Weston McKennie from Little Elm, Texas; Tyler Adams from Wappingers Falls, New York; and Christian Pulisic from Hershey, Pennsylvania. We read that McKennie was born on an army base. Adams was raised by a soccer coach. Pulisic is nicknamed “Captain America.” 

The story writes itself. But this narrative of the USMNT winning formula is, at worst, wrong and at best, incomplete. 

Certainly, this cohort is rich in talent, and it is shining far more brightly on its home turf than it did four years ago in Qatar. But to interpret this as the light of a purely American ethos is to misunderstand both this U.S. team and national teams generally.

World Cup commentary often lapses into cultural shorthand, portraying matches as contests of national character: Teutonic discipline versus Brazilian beauty, Italian cynicism versus English heart. These stereotypes satisfy our deep-seated essentialist intuitions about nationality. But they are hard to square with the fact that most elite soccer players are globetrotting expatriates who play for clubs outside of their home nation. 

Yesterday, Fox Sports analyst Zlatan Ibrahimović blamed the Netherlands’ loss to Morocco on Coach Ronald Koeman’s decision to adopt a defensive formation: “This is not the Dutch identity. Today, Koeman looked like an Italian coach, playing not to lose, whereas the Netherlands always play to win. If you lose, at least lose with your own identity.” The Swedish-Bosnian legend implied that success comes from hewing to national tradition.

If........

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