Copa Dreams Dashed

On This Day in 2024, the US Crashed Out of Copa America After a Defeat to Uruguay, Leading to Berhalter's Sacking

For Gregg Berhalter and the United States Men's National Team, Copa América 2024 was meant to be a declaration—proof that five and a half years of patient development had transformed a collection of promising youngsters into genuine contenders. The tournament, featuring South America's finest and six invited guests playing across 14 U.S. venues, represented the final major test before the 2026 World Cup on home soil.

"Now it's time to prove ourselves," Christian Pulisic had declared before the tournament. "We've learned a lot. We put in some good performances in the World Cup. We've shown people this team can play, and now it's about not just putting in those performances but finding a way to get results in the biggest matches."

The expectations were justified. This was arguably the most talented roster in U.S. soccer history—a brotherhood of 20 players between the ages of 21 and 26 who had grown up together under Berhalter's guidance. They had dominated their regional rivals, earned a respectable showing at the 2022 World Cup, and carried themselves with the confidence of players who belonged on soccer's biggest stages. With Group C opponents Bolivia, Panama, and Uruguay, anything short of the quarterfinals would constitute failure. The campaign began exactly as scripted on a sweltering June 23 evening in Arlington, Texas. Inside the air-conditioned comfort of AT&T Stadium, the Americans dismantled Bolivia with clinical efficiency. Pulisic curled home a perfectly placed shot just 2 minutes and 23 seconds in before setting up Folarin Balogun's strike just before halftime. The 2-0 victory was a comprehensive win.

But Copa América has a way of humbling even the most confident teams, and the Americans learned this harsh lesson four days later in Atlanta. The match against Panama unraveled almost immediately when Timothy Weah, in a moment of inexplicable poor judgment, struck Panama's Roderick Miller in the back of the head and received a straight red card. Despite the numerical disadvantage, Balogun scored a sublime left-footed strike to give the U.S. the lead. Still, Panama equalized through César Blackman, and José Fajardo scored the winner in the 83rd minute. The 2-1 defeat, compounded by Matt Turner's injury, left both teams level on three points and set up a winner-take-all scenario in the final group matches.

"Our knockout game actually came five days earlier," Berhalter would later acknowledge. "If we don't put a good performance, [if] we don't win the game, our Copa América is done."

The mathematics was simple: the Americans would likely need to beat Uruguay while hoping Panama failed to defeat Bolivia in the simultaneous match in Orlando. Uruguay, the 15-time Copa América champions, had breezed through their opening matches, outscoring Panama and Bolivia by a combined 8-1. Led by the tactical mastermind Marcelo Bielsa—though he would be suspended for the U.S. match—La Celeste represented exactly the kind of South American powerhouse the Americans needed to conquer to prove their credentials.

On the humid evening of July 1 in Kansas City, 55,460 fans packed into Arrowhead Stadium for what felt like a referendum on American soccer's progress. The Americans knew the stakes, and they played like it. Missing the suspended Weah, Berhalter adjusted his formation, moving Gio Reyna to the front line and inserting Yunus Musah into midfield. Turner, cleared to play despite his injury concerns, started in goal.

The opening 45 minutes showcased the best and worst of tournament soccer. The Americans were lively, proactive, and dangerous, creating the kind of attacking momentum that had been missing against Panama. Pulisic, gesturing to the crowd during a corner kick, embodied the team's desperate need for support and inspiration. But the match was marked by frightening injuries that served as stark reminders of the physical toll of high-stakes soccer. Uruguay's Maxi Araújo suffered a scary head collision and had to be stretchered off. At the same time, Balogun absorbed multiple hard challenges before succumbing to a hip injury that forced his substitution for Ricardo Pepi in the 41st minute.

The fast-paced, physical first half ended scoreless, but the Americans had reasons for optimism. They were matching Uruguay's intensity and creating opportunities. In Orlando, the other Group C match remained equally poised, with Bolivia and Panama locked in their own battle for advancement. The second half began with Uruguay asserting greater control, their superior technical ability and tactical discipline gradually wearing down the American resistance. The pressure mounted as news filtered in from Orlando—Panama had taken the lead against Bolivia, increasing the urgency for the Americans to find a breakthrough.

Then came the moment that would bring everything to an end. In the 65th minute, Uruguay earned a free kick. In the subsequent moments before the free kick, Berhalter was caught on the broadcast signaling "1-1", indicating to the players on the field that Bolivia had equalized against Panama. Then, Nicolas De La Cruz swung a free kick into the heart of the U.S. penalty area. Ronald Araújo rose above Tim Ream to meet the cross with a powerful header. Turner made a spectacular save, diving to his right to keep the initial effort out, but the rebound fell perfectly for Mathías Olivera, who tapped the ball home with his left foot. 

The Americans immediately appealed for offside, believing Olivera had been in an illegal position when Araújo made contact with the ball. After a lengthy video review—one that felt like an eternity to the American players and supporters—the goal was allowed to stand. The 1-0 deficit felt insurmountable given the circumstances, and when word came from Orlando that Panama had retaken their lead against Bolivia, the writing was on the wall.

The Americans pushed desperately for an equalizer, throwing bodies forward with the reckless abandon of a team with nothing left to lose. But Uruguay's defensive discipline held firm, and the final whistle confirmed what had become inevitable: the United States was eliminated from Copa América in the group stage.

"We are bitterly disappointed with the results," Berhalter said in the immediate aftermath. "We know we are capable of more, and in this tournament, we didn't show it. We should have done better. It's an empty feeling right now."

The defeat was particularly galling given the context. Not since the tournament adopted its current format in 1987 had a host nation failed to advance from the group stage. More troubling was the sense that this represented a missed opportunity for a generation of players entering their prime years. The Americans had shown they could compete with elite opposition, but they had failed to produce results when it mattered most.

The fallout was swift and merciless. During the second half against Uruguay, sections of the home crowd had begun chanting "Fire Gregg," a damning indictment from supporters who had traveled to Kansas City expecting to witness history. The calls for change only grew louder in the days following elimination, with fans and pundits questioning whether Berhalter was the right man to lead the team into the 2026 World Cup.

Nine days later, U.S. Soccer Federation sporting director Matt Crocker delivered the inevitable verdict. Berhalter was dismissed despite having more than two years remaining on his contract, becoming a casualty of the sport's unforgiving arithmetic.

"At the senior level, we've got to win," Crocker explained. "We know winning is the yardstick, and we didn't do that."

Berhalter's tenure had encompassed tremendous growth and painful disappointments in equal measure. He had inherited a program in crisis following the failure to qualify for the 2018 World Cup and had rebuilt it around a generation of talented young players. Under his guidance, the Americans had reestablished themselves as a regional power, dominated Mexico, and reached the knockout rounds of the 2022 World Cup. But Copa América had demanded more. It required the Americans to prove they could consistently compete with and defeat the world's elite teams in high-pressure situations. Instead, they had managed just one victory against Bolivia—the tournament's weakest team—while falling short against Panama and Uruguay when everything was on the line.

"The Copa América result is extremely disappointing, and I take full responsibility for our performance," Berhalter said in his final statement as coach. "Our approach and process was always focused on the 2026 World Cup and I remain confident this group will be one of the great stories in 2026."

The dismissal marked the end of an era for American soccer, closing the book on a coaching tenure that had promised to "change soccer in America forever" but ultimately fell short when the stakes were highest. With less than two years remaining before the World Cup on home soil, the search began for a new leader capable of maximizing the potential of what remained one of the most talented generations in U.S. soccer history.

For the players who had grown up together under Berhalter's guidance—who had celebrated marriages, engagements, and the birth of children as part of their soccer family—Copa América 2024 represented more than just a tournament disappointment. It was a harsh reminder that in international soccer, potential means nothing without results, and that the margins between success and failure can be measured in fractions of inches and split-second decisions. The dream of proving themselves among soccer's elite would have to wait for another day, under new leadership, with the weight of expectation heavier than ever before.

Howard's Historic Preformance

On This Day in 2014, the Wall in Salvador: Tim Howard's Heroic Stand as America's World Cup Dream Dies in Extra Time

The heartbreak in Manaus had transformed into steely determination by the time the Americans reached Salvador. Their dramatic escape from the "Group of Death" had proven they belonged among the world's elite, but now came the ultimate test of that belief. Standing between them and a quarterfinal showdown with Lionel Messi's Argentina was Belgium, a team overflowing with Premier League talent and carrying the weight of their own golden generation's expectations.

The Belgians arrived at Arena Fonte Nova as heavy favorites, their squad valued at nearly ten times that of the Americans. While Vincent Kompany's $17.4 million Manchester City salary approached the collective earnings of the entire U.S. starting eleven, Jürgen Klinsmann's team had something money couldn't buy: the intangible belief that comes from surviving when others expected you to fail. They had absorbed Portugal's late equalizer in the Amazon, weathered Germany's inevitable goal in Recife, and somehow found themselves 90 minutes away from the World Cup Quarterfinal.

But football, as the Americans had learned repeatedly, specialized in cruel mathematics. The path to the quarterfinals would demand everything they had given and more, against opponents who had been preparing for this moment their entire professional lives.

From the opening minute of the July 1 match, Arena Fonte Nova became the stage for one of the most extraordinary individual performances in World Cup history. Tim Howard, the 35-year-old goalkeeper from New Jersey who had been manning the American goal for over a decade, transformed into an impenetrable force of nature. Belgium's opening salvo came within seconds, and Howard was there, sprawling to his left to deny what seemed a certain goal. It was the first of what would become a record-breaking night.

Wave after wave of Belgian attacks crashed against Howard like Atlantic storms against a lighthouse. Divock Origi tested him low, then high. Dries Mertens curled efforts toward both corners. Eden Hazard weaved through defenders only to find Howard somehow in position, defying physics and probability with equal measure. When Belgium won their first corner kick after five minutes, it felt like the beginning of a siege that would last the entire match.

Howard saved with his hands, his feet, his legs, his knees. At one point, a shot ricocheted off the crest above his heart, and still he stood. The crowd at Arena Fonte Nova, initially split between American tourists and Belgian supporters, gradually began to appreciate what they were witnessing. This wasn't merely goalkeeping; it was athletic artistry performed under the most intense pressure imaginable.

"You just try and do all the things that have gotten me here," Howard would say afterward, with characteristic understatement. But what he was doing transcended preparation or technique. This was instinct married to experience, a goalkeeper operating in a zone where time seemed to slow and every save felt both impossible and inevitable. As the first half wore on, Belgium's frustration became palpable. They had controlled 65% of possession, registered twelve shots to America's two, and yet the scoreboard remained stubbornly blank. Marc Wilmots' tactical masterpiece was being undone by one man standing between two posts, refusing to yield.

The second half brought no respite for the American defense. If anything, Belgium's attacks became more frenzied, more desperate. Kevin De Bruyne found himself repeatedly thwarted by Howard's anticipation. Romelu Lukaku, warming up on the touchline, watched his teammates pepper the American goal with increasing urgency. Fabian Johnson's early injury had forced the Americans into defensive mode even earlier than planned. DeAndre Yedlin, earning $92,000 with the Seattle Sounders, found himself marking players worth fifty times his salary. The disparity in resources had never been more apparent, yet somehow the Americans held firm.

Howard's save count climbed: six, seven, eight, nine. Each stop brought louder appreciation from the crowd and growing disbelief from the Belgian technical area. Thibaut Courtois, Belgium's own exceptional goalkeeper, could only watch from the other end as his counterpart performed miracles with increasingly regularity. The most spectacular save came in the 73rd minute. Marouane Fellaini's towering header seemed destined for the corner, only for Howard to somehow tip it over the crossbar with his fingertips. It was the kind of save that defied explanation, the sort of moment that transforms matches into legend.

By the time the fourth official raised his board to signal three minutes of stoppage time, Howard had made 11 saves. Belgium had managed nineteen corner kicks to America's four, controlled possession by a three-to-one margin, and yet somehow remained level. The greatest individual goalkeeping performance in decades was keeping American dreams alive. But in the dying seconds of regulation, fate offered the cruelest twist. Chris Wondolowski, who had entered as a substitute, found himself alone in front of the goal after Jermaine Jones' header fell perfectly into his path. For one impossible moment, the American dream hung in the balance. The net yawned invitingly, Belgium's defenders scrambled in vain, and 200 million Americans held their breath.

The shot sailed high over the crossbar, and with it went the chance to win in regulation. As the teams prepared for thirty minutes of extra time, the psychological momentum had shifted subtly but definitively. Belgium had been denied by brilliance and luck in equal measure, but now they sensed weakness. Extra time brought fresh legs for Belgium in the form of Lukaku, whose pace and power immediately altered the dynamic. The Americans, who had been "running on fumes" according to Matt Besler, suddenly found themselves facing a different kind of threat. Where Belgium had previously relied on intricate passing and technical skill, Lukaku brought directness and physicality that tired legs could not match.

The breakthrough came in the 93rd minute, twelve minutes into the first period of extra time. Lukaku drove forward with devastating pace, leaving Besler and Omar Gonzalez in his wake. His run opened up space for De Bruyne, who had been frustrated all evening by Howard's heroics. This time, however, the angle was perfect, the power irresistible. De Bruyne's sixth shot of the evening finally found its mark, beating Howard low to his left. the goal felt inevitable in hindsight, but devastating in the moment. American players who had given everything for 93 minutes suddenly faced the reality that their World Cup dream was slipping away. Howard, who had performed miracles all evening, could only watch helplessly as Belgium celebrated their breakthrough.

Twelve minutes later, Lukaku struck the decisive blow. De Bruyne turned provider this time, threading a pass through the American defense that found the striker unmarked near the penalty spot. His finish was clinical, professional, and final. At 2-0 down with less than five minutes remaining in extra time, even the most optimistic American supporter began to contemplate the end.

But this American team had specialized in defying expectations, and they weren't finished yet. Julian Green, the 19-year-old Bayern Munich prospect born in Tampa but raised in Germany, entered the match for his World Cup debut with just minutes remaining. What happened next felt like destiny. Two minutes after stepping onto the field, Green found himself in the perfect position to receive Michael Bradley's chipped pass. His volley was pure instinct, a moment of technical brilliance that belied his age and inexperience. The ball flew past Courtois and into the net, reducing the deficit to a single goal and sending American supporters into a state of delirium.

The final thirteen minutes became a frantic assault on the Belgian goal. Jermaine Jones blasted a shot over the bar. Headers went astray. And then, in the 114th minute, came the moment that would haunt American dreams for years to come. A perfectly executed free kick routine saw Bradley find Wondolowski, who laid the ball off for Clint Dempsey just five yards from goal. The American captain, who had scored crucial goals throughout the tournament, found his shot smothered by Courtois's reflexes.

It was tantalizing, teasing, heartbreaking. The equalizer had been there, begging to be taken, only to slip away like so many American World Cup dreams before it. When the final whistle sounded after 120 minutes of drama, many American players simply collapsed, their energy finally spent. Howard was not among them. He stood tall, as he had all evening, surveying the scene with the quiet dignity of a warrior who had given everything and left nothing in reserve. His fifteen saves had set a new World Cup record, eclipsing the previous mark that had stood since 1978. It was a performance that would be remembered long after the final score was forgotten.

As the American players made their way around the field, thanking the supporters who had traveled thousands of miles to witness their journey, the broader implications of their World Cup run began to crystallize. Television ratings in the United States had shattered every conceivable record, with 21.6 million viewers watching the Belgium match alone. Watch parties had sprung up from Hermosa Beach to Birmingham, from craft breweries in Brooklyn to libraries in Alabama.

Howard himself recognized the moment's significance. "It's nice that America knows about soccer now," he said during his post-match interviews. "I think that's what's most important." But he also understood the challenge ahead. "Every four years America gets behind this team," he acknowledged. "It's hard to sustain that every day."

The American team had traveled over 11,000 miles during their four-match World Cup journey, playing in the stifling heat of the Amazon and torrential rain along Brazil's Atlantic coast. They had faced the tournament favorites and emerged bloodied but unbowed, proving that passion and preparation could bridge even the widest gaps in resources and reputation. As they prepared for their journey home, carrying with them the disappointment of elimination but also the pride of achievement, the Americans had fundamentally altered the conversation around soccer in their homeland. They had shown that a team built on MLS foundations could compete with Europe's finest, that tactical discipline could overcome individual brilliance, and that sometimes the most meaningful victories came in defeat.