On This Day in 1995, Wynalda Scored Twice to Lead the US Past Chile
The euphoria of the US Cup triumph still lingered in the summer air as Steve Sampson's team prepared to face their most demanding test yet. Copa América 1995 represented more than just another tournament—it was Sampson's final audition for the permanent coaching position and American soccer's chance to prove that home-field heroics could translate to the hostile environments of South America.
Two years earlier, the United States had approached Copa América with casual indifference, sending a weakened squad to Ecuador while the top players competed in domestic competitions. The result was predictable: three matches, zero victories, and an early exit that reinforced every stereotype about American soccer's limitations abroad. This time, however, the stakes demanded seriousness. Sampson understood that his attacking philosophy, so successful against Mexico at RFK Stadium, would face its ultimate validation in Uruguay.
The coaching speculation that had swirled around Sampson for months remained unresolved as his team arrived in Paysandu. US Soccer officials had made their preference for international experience clear, pursuing Portuguese coach Carlos Queiroz before he declined their overtures. Brazilian World Cup manager Carlos Alberto Parreira had similarly chosen Turkish club football over the challenge of developing American soccer. With each rejection, Sampson's position grew more precarious, his interim status extending into uncertainty.
"I think it's every coach's dream to be the coach of one's country," Sampson acknowledged, his measured words barely concealing the professional anxiety that accompanied his team's South American journey. "It's an honor, a privilege. I would love to have the job." But desire alone could not overcome the federation's lingering doubts. Alan Rothenberg had praised Sampson's US Cup performance yet stopped short of offering the security his coach desperately needed. The message was clear: Copa América would determine whether American soccer had finally found its leader or would continue searching for salvation from abroad.
The tournament draw presented both opportunities and challenges. Chile, Bolivia, and defending champion Argentina comprised Group C, with the top two teams advancing to the quarterfinals. Chile presented the most realistic path to an early statement victory, particularly with star striker Ivan Zamarano refusing to participate for reasons that remained his own. Bolivia, weakened by the departure of several key players, offered another potential triumph. Argentina, despite featuring experimental selections, remained formidable. For the first time since the 1950 World Cup, an American team would attempt to win a match on South American soil.
The capacity crowd of 22,000 at Estadio Artigas in Paysandu on July 8 created an atmosphere that immediately tested American resolve. Chilean fans, confident in their team's historical dominance over the United States, expected another routine victory to maintain their perfect 5-0-1 record in the rivalry. The early minutes suggested their confidence was well-placed. Chile controlled possession with the patient precision that characterized South American football, their midfield anchored by experienced players who understood how to exploit American nervousness. Striker Ivo Basay and rising star Marcelo Salas launched dangerous attacks that forced the United States into defensive positions reminiscent of previous failures on foreign soil. In the first fifteen minutes, Chile created three clear scoring opportunities, while the Americans rarely ventured beyond midfield.
But Sampson's tactical revolution had instilled something different in this American team. Rather than retreating into defensive shells when pressured, they maintained their commitment to an attacking football style. The breakthrough came in the 15th minute through a sequence that embodied everything Sampson had preached about American soccer's potential. Paul Caligiuri, John Harkes, Mike Burns, and Earnie Stewart combined on a series of one-touch passes that sliced through Chilean defensive lines with surgical precision. The movement was instinctive, as each player understood their role in a collective that had been impossible under previous coaching regimes. Stewart's cross from the right wing found Eric Wynalda perfectly positioned five yards from goal, and the striker's finish was clinical.
"It was perfect soccer," Wynalda would later reflect. "Nice, short combinations and Ernie's cross came right to me."
The goal transformed everything. Chile's early dominance evaporated as the Americans refused to retreat into protective formations. Instead, they pressed forward with the kind of sustained attacking threat that had dismantled Mexico just weeks earlier. The result was thrilling end-to-end football that showcased American soccer's evolution from defensive pragmatism to attacking ambition. Twenty-nine minutes into the match, Sampson's philosophy received its most emphatic validation. Javier Margas fouled Thomas Dooley just outside the penalty area, creating a free-kick opportunity that demanded both technical skill and composure. Wynalda stepped forward, his reputation as a set-piece specialist preceding him. The execution was sublime—a curled shot that rose over the defensive wall sailed past the leaping Marcelo Ramirez and nestled just under the crossbar for a 2-0 American lead.
"It was difficult for the goalie to see the ball because Tom Dooley screened him," Wynalda explained afterward. "He didn't see it until it was in."
The goal carried significance beyond its immediate impact. Wynalda had just passed Hugo Perez for second place on the US career scoring list with his 17th international goal, four behind Bruce Murray's record. More importantly, the strike demonstrated that American players could execute the kind of technical excellence that South American football demanded. Chile's response came with the desperation of a team watching its historical dominance crumble. Wave after wave of attacks tested Kasey Keller's goal, transforming the American goalkeeper into the match's defining figure. Before halftime, he had stopped two dangerous shots from Salas and controlled a rocket from Esteban Valencia without allowing hazardous rebounds. Each save preserved not just the scoreline but the confidence that had enabled American attacking football to flourish.
The second half began with Chile's offensive fury undiminished. In the 63rd minute, Sebastian Rozenthal combined with Basay to score from five yards, finally ending the United States' remarkable 313-minute shutout streak. The goal energized Chilean hopes and created the kind of pressure that had historically caused American teams to collapse. But this American team possessed something different—a tactical maturity that complemented their attacking ambition. Rather than panic, Dooley and John Harkes seized control of the midfield and the defense, anchored by Marcelo Balboa, closed ranks around Rozenthal and Basay, limiting their opportunities to create dangerous chances.
As Chile grew more desperate in the final moments, American counterattacks created opportunities that might have extended the margin of victory. In the 77th minute, the referee missed a clear foul against Joe-Max Moore in the penalty area, which would have denied the Americans a potential insurance goal. One minute later, Chilean defender Javier Margas received a red card for a violent foul against Tab Ramos, reducing Chile to ten men for the match's final stages. When the final whistle sounded, the capacity crowd responded with something unprecedented in American soccer history—warm, sustained applause from South American fans who had witnessed quality football from a team they had never before respected. The 2-1 victory represented more than statistical achievement; it marked the first time since 1950 that an American team had won a match on South American soil.
"This is a very, very important win," declared team captain Balboa, his words carrying the weight of historical significance. "In a tournament like this, winning the first game is crucial, just like the World Cup. Now we have to keep it going and see how far we get."
The path to the quarterfinals now appeared manageable. A victory over Bolivia on Tuesday would guarantee advancement regardless of the outcome against Argentina. For the first time in the Copa América, the United States controlled its own destiny in South America's prestigious tournament. Alexi Lalas, who had endured the humiliation of the 1993 Copa América, understood the significance of the transformation. "We come into this situation knowing that this is a proving ground," he reflected. "As much as we suffered the first time we were down here, we must show the Americans that we have improved—even since the 1994 World Cup."
The improvement was undeniable. Wynalda's two goals had provided the headlines, but the victory's foundation rested on tactical sophistication and collective confidence that previous American teams had never possessed. The passing sequences that created the opening goal demonstrated technical ability that could compete with South American standards. The defensive resilience that preserved the lead showed mental toughness that had been absent from too many previous performances. As Sampson's team prepared for Bolivia, the coaching speculation that had dominated headlines for months began to quiet. Results had a way of settling debates that words never could, and the first American victory on South American soil in 45 years spoke with undeniable authority. The journey to France '98 would require sustained excellence over two years of qualifying, but the foundation had been established in the most convincing manner possible.