Third Place at the Confederations Cup

 On This Day in 1999, the US Capped a Historic Run with a Statement Victory Over Saudi Arabia

The dreams died hard in the thin air of Mexico City, suffocating under the altitude and Cuauhtémoc Blanco's golden touch in sudden-death overtime. As the final whistle echoed through Azteca Stadium and 80,000 Mexican voices erupted in celebration, Bruce Arena's exhausted warriors slumped to the turf, their fairy tale semifinal run extinguished by the cruelest of margins. Kasey Keller had performed heroics for 97 minutes, diving and stretching to deny wave after wave of Mexican attacks. Still, even the Seattle goalkeeper's brilliance couldn't overcome the mounting fatigue and suffocating pressure of playing at 7,350 feet with less than 48 hours' rest.

The 1-0 defeat stung, but it couldn't diminish what this American team had already accomplished. They had arrived in Mexico as a rebuilding project, their confidence still fragile from the humiliation of France '98. Now, with a third-place match against Saudi Arabia awaiting in Guadalajara, they carried themselves with the swagger of a team that had announced its arrival on the world stage. The ghosts of 1998 had been exorcised not in victory, but in the manner of their defeats – standing toe-to-toe with Brazil, stunning Germany, and pushing Mexico to the breaking point in their own backyard.

Arena faced a familiar dilemma as his squad prepared for the consolation match on Tuesday. His starters were physically and emotionally drained from the Mexico crucible, their legs heavy and their minds still processing the heartbreak of coming so close to a final berth. But this wasn't Germany all over again – the stakes had shifted, the pressure had lifted, and Arena could afford to trust his bench once more. The lineup Arena unveiled in Guadalajara reflected both pragmatism and faith. Brad Friedel would anchor the defense once again, his France '98 demons now fully conquered after a tournament of steady performances. Marcelo Balboa, the veteran defender, earned another start alongside the reliable C.J. Brown. In midfield, Ben Olsen's coming-of-age goal against Germany had cemented his place, while Eddie Lewis provided the pace and creativity that had troubled every opponent. Up front, Paul Bravo and Brian McBride formed a partnership that promised both work rate and clinical finishing.

Saudi Arabia arrived as exhausted opponents, having played their fifth match in ten days following their 8-2 semifinal loss to Brazil. Coach Milan Macala's team had shown flashes of quality throughout the tournament, routing Egypt in the group stage. Still, the Ronaldinho-inspired demolition had left them searching for pride rather than glory. For the Americans, it represented the perfect opportunity to stamp their authority on a tournament that had already exceeded every expectation.

The August 3 match began with controversy that seemed destined to define American soccer luck. Twenty-three minutes in, Abdullah Bin Shehan appeared to have given Saudi Arabia the lead, but referee scrutiny revealed the truth – the ball had struck his arm before crossing the line. The disallowed goal felt like justice served, a sign that this American team's time had truly arrived. Where previous generations might have crumbled under such early pressure, Arena's men absorbed the moment and struck back with clinical precision.

Three minutes later, Bravo justified every ounce of faith Arena had placed in him. The forward who had been instrumental in the German upset now became the tournament's unlikely hero once more, seizing on a defensive miscommunication to burst clear of the Saudi backline. One-on-one with Mohammed Al Deayea, Bravo showed the composure of a seasoned international, slicing his shot cleanly into the net to give the Americans the lead they would never relinquish. The goal transformed the dynamic completely. Saudi Arabia, already leg-weary from their brutal schedule, found themselves chasing a game against opponents who had mastered the art of defensive discipline. The American backline stood firm against increasingly desperate Saudi attacks.

The second half brought fresh drama when Matt McKeon's tournament ended in ignominy, the midfielder receiving his marching orders in the 64th minute for a series of yellow cards, the first coming eight minutes earlier. Playing a man down should have invited pressure, but this American team had learned to thrive in adversity. If anything, the red card seemed to galvanize them, forcing the kind of collective defensive effort that had become their trademark. Saudi Arabia's quicker forwards found no space to exploit, their attacking moves breaking down against a blue wall of organized resistance.

The knockout punch arrived in the 79th minute through Brian McBride, the towering forward who had quietly emerged as one of Arena's most reliable performers. Eddie Lewis, operating with the freedom that only a one-goal lead and numerical disadvantage can provide, whipped in a perfect cross from the right flank. McBride, unmarked and untroubled, rose majestically to power his header past Al Deayea for his second goal of the tournament. The strike was vintage McBride – powerful, precise, and perfectly timed – the kind of finish that would become his calling card in years to come.

As the final whistle confirmed a 2-0 victory and third place in the Confederations Cup, the significance of the moment wasn't lost on anyone in red, white, and blue. This wasn't just about beating Saudi Arabia or claiming a bronze medal – this was about completing the most successful tournament run in American men's soccer history. Arena's revolution had delivered tangible results, transforming a team that had been a World Cup laughingstock into genuine international competitors.

"It was a hard-fought match and we are pleased with the results," Arena said with characteristic understatement, but his satisfaction ran deeper than his measured words suggested. This tournament had proven that American soccer possessed something it had never owned before – depth, resilience, and the tactical sophistication to compete with the world's elite. For players like Bravo and Olsen, McBride and Lewis, the tournament represented career-defining moments that would resonate for years to come. They had seized their opportunities when the stakes were highest, proving that American soccer's future wasn't dependent on a handful of stars but on a deep reservoir of committed professionals.

The third-place finish represented more than just tournament success – it was validation of a philosophy and a promise of what lay ahead. Arena's Americans had climbed from the depths of France '98 humiliation to the podium of international respectability in barely a year. They had defeated Germany twice in 1999, conquered Argentina, and pushed Brazil and Mexico to their limits. The goal of fielding 30 legitimate internationals no longer seemed like fantasy, but an achievable reality built on performances like these.

As the American players celebrated with their bronze medals in Guadalajara, the weight of history settled around them. This was the breakthrough moment American soccer had been waiting for, the tournament that would be remembered as the turning point between promise and performance. The road to South Korea 2002 suddenly looked less daunting, paved with the confidence that comes only from proving yourself on the biggest stages. Arena's gamble had paid off in ways none of them could have imagined, turning role players into heroes and a rebuilding project into a genuine force in world soccer.

Controversial Exit at the 1936 Olympics

On This Day in 1936, America's Olympic Dream Ends in Disagreement Against Italy

The United States Soccer Football Association faced a moral crossroads as Hitler's Germany prepared to showcase the supposed superiority of the Aryan race at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. While Jewish groups and others recognized the propaganda value these Games would provide the Nazi regime, lobbying hard for an American boycott, USFA president Joe Barriskill and his predecessor, Elmer Schroeder, ultimately decided that participation was justified. The decision split American public opinion and divided the U.S. Olympic Committee as fiercely as it did the nation itself.

The path to Berlin was fraught with familiar financial difficulties. Heavy snowfalls throughout the 1935-36 season had wreaked havoc with schedules, preventing the Olympic Committee from completing its fundraising program. With only three weeks before departure, the team's participation hung in the balance until Barriskill personally intervened, transferring $6,702.77 from the federation's "modest treasury" and pressuring individuals and stable clubs for donations.

Team selection centered around the nation's two most successful clubs. The Philadelphia German-Americans, winners of both the U.S. Open Cup and national open championship, provided nine of the 17 players selected. The Brooklyn German Sports Club, national amateur titleholders, contributed three more. The roster was completed with representatives from Boston, St. Louis, Trenton, and Castle Shannon, Pennsylvania. Three players carried World Cup experience from the 1934 tournament in Italy: captain Francis "Hun" Ryan, Peter Pietras, and William Fiedler, all of German-American descent. Fiedler had traveled to Rome as a reserve but never appeared in a match. Now, 14 of the 17 players were native-born Americans, with only three being naturalized citizens.

Final tryouts took place at Brooklyn's Grand Stadium, where 2,000 spectators watched the Philadelphia German-Americans defeat their Brooklyn counterparts 1-0. Fiedler scored the decisive goal after sixteen minutes, converting a pass from W. McEwan. With Francis Cavanaugh as coach and Schroeder as manager, the Americans departed for Germany without playing a single game together as a complete unit.  Their first practice session occurred in Berlin itself, where they managed draws against two local teams. The luck of the Olympic draw had once again paired the United States against Italy in the opening round—the same nation that had eliminated them from the 1934 World Cup. This Italian squad, while featuring a completely different lineup from their World Cup triumph, remained under the guidance of manager Vittorio Pozzo and arrived as tournament favorites.

On August 3, the same day Jesse Owens captured gold in the 100 meters and delivered his own blow to Nazi racial theories, 10,000 spectators gathered at Berlin's Poststadion for the soccer tournament's opening match. Among them sat Italian Crown Prince Umberto, lending royal gravitas to the proceedings. The Italians expected a routine passage to the next round, fielding a team of athletes who were amateurs in name only. Many competed for First Division Italian clubs but maintained official "student" status to preserve Olympic eligibility. 

However, the American team's physical strength and determination immediately disrupted Italian expectations, as the first half ended in a surprising 0-0 deadlock. The Americans' vigorous, straightforward approach—lacking subtlety in technique and tactics but abundant in strength and resolve—kept the favored Italians off balance. The second half saw increased Italian pressure and two near misses that threatened the American goal. One shot missed by inches, and another struck the post. But the match's defining moment arrived in the 53rd minute when German referee Carl Weingartner expelled Italian fullback Pietro Rava for a vicious tackle.

While the Americans attempted to capitalize on their numerical advantage, Italy's right winger Annibale Frossi struck the decisive blow. Charles Altemose, the American left halfback marking Frossi, later explained the crucial goal: "The grass was wet. There was a high ball coming toward our left fullback (Fred Zbikowski). He expected the ball to hit the ground and bounce, but instead it hit the ground and skidded. But the Italian outside right knew what was going to happen: he played the skip instead of the bounce. He went around our man, got the ball, and scored. It was a bad play by our fullback!"

The Americans pressed forward desperately, but injuries to key players undermined their efforts. Fiedler suffered a blow to the mouth, then another to the knee. George Nemchik, the Trenton native, was kicked in the stomach while trapping the ball with his chest, losing consciousness briefly before courageously resuming play. The brutality reached its climax when Achille Piccini's rough treatment of American players prompted referee Weingartner to order his expulsion. What followed shocked even the most seasoned observers of international soccer. "A half dozen Italian players swarmed over the referee, pinning his hands to his sides and clamping hands over his mouth," reported the Associated Press. Three times, Weingartner attempted to remove Piccini from the field, but finally surrendered to the Italian intimidation. The match concluded with Piccini still participating.

"It was one of the dirtiest games!" recalled Altemose years later. "The Italian team played very aggressively and dirty against us. We were a very young team. Our idea of the Olympic Games was the height of sportsmanship. Their play in the first half was to cripple as many players as they could, because there were no substitutions at that time. We were told later that was the European style of play. We, too, played a rough game in the States, but we never tried to cripple a guy."

Team manager Schroeder accepted the 1-0 defeat with remarkable grace. "Schroeder and the whole team took the incident good-naturedly and did not appear to be disturbed by how they were eliminated," observers noted. However, the physical toll was evident. Fiedler's right knee required extensive treatment and would likely prevent him from participating in the team's planned European tour, though he remained with the squad. Nemchik's stomach and lower ribs bore severe bruising, though team officials determined his injuries were not serious. Despite the controversy surrounding their defeat, American observers found reasons for optimism. The team had matched Italy's skill for significant portions of the match, demonstrating that American soccer could compete at the highest international level when properly prepared and organized. Their physical approach, while lacking the technical sophistication of European powers, had clearly troubled the eventual tournament winners.

Frossi himself acknowledged this reality: "Fortunately for us, the Americans showed that they had no first-class midfielders or forwards, because otherwise we would never have been Olympic champions!" Italy's path to gold validated Frossi's confidence, as they defeated Japan, Norway, and Austria in succession to claim the championship. For the Americans, however, the controversial loss would mark their only official international match of 1936 and their final competitive appearance before world events intervened. The escalating tensions in Europe, culminating in the outbreak of World War II, would force the United States to withdraw from international soccer competition. The national team remained dormant from 1938 to 1946, missing the 1938 World Cup in France, where Italy successfully defended its title. When FIFA canceled the 1942 and 1946 World Cups due to the global conflict, American soccer faced an extended period of isolation from international competition.

The 1936 Olympic campaign thus represented both an ending and a beginning for American soccer. While the defeat in Berlin marked the conclusion of the sport's brief pre-war international presence, the team's spirited performance against overwhelming odds established a template for future American success. Their refusal to be intimidated by superior opponents, combined with their commitment to fair play in the face of unprecedented gamesmanship, is a testament to their character. These embodied values would define U.S. soccer's identity for generations to come.

In 1945, as the world emerged from its devastating conflict, the governing body formally changed its name from the United States Football Association to the United States Soccer Football Association, symbolically marking a new chapter. When international competition resumed with the 1950 World Cup in Brazil, American soccer would carry forward the lessons learned in Germany—that courage and determination, while not always sufficient for victory, remained essential ingredients for earning respect on the world's greatest stages.