Another Dos a Cero in Columbus

On This Day in 2005, Ralston and Beasley Score as the US Beat the Regional Rival to Secure a Spot in the World Cup

The weight of continental expectation settled over Columbus like the September evening shadows that stretched across Crew Stadium's perfectly manicured pitch. Three weeks had passed since the Americans' labored victory over Trinidad and Tobago, three weeks of questions about finishing, focus, and whether Bruce Arena's patched-together squad possessed the temperament to seize the moment that had eluded American soccer for generations. Now, with Mexico arriving as both tormentor and opportunity, the United States faced the rarest of chances in international football—to clinch World Cup qualification not just against their most significant rival, but in circumstances that would transform mathematical necessity into psychological triumph.

The buildup had carried all the familiar toxicity that defined this hemisphere's most compelling rivalry. Landon Donovan, still nursing grievances from Olympic qualifying humiliations and personal slights that extended beyond the pitch, had made no secret of his eagerness for revenge. Mexico goalkeeper Oswaldo Sánchez's magazine comments about Donovan's mother had added a personal edge to what was already the most consequential match in the American qualifying calendar. Yet for all the pre-match rhetoric, the stakes transcended individual animosities. The Americans, sitting on 15 points from six matches, needed only a victory to secure their place in Germany—their fifth consecutive World Cup appearance and a milestone that would cement their emergence as CONCACAF's co-hegemon alongside the visitors.

Arena's team selection revealed both confidence and pragmatism. Claudio Reyna, whose partnership with John O'Brien had provided midfield stability against Trinidad, was paired this time with the more defensively minded Chris Armas. The decision reflected Arena's understanding that Mexico, unlike the overmatched Soca Warriors, would test American resolve in ways that required tactical discipline over creative ambition. Eddie Lewis retained his unfamiliar role at left-back. At the same time, Oguchi Onyewu's inclusion alongside Gregg Berhalter signaled Arena's belief that physical presence would prove decisive against Mexico's technically gifted but diminutive forwards.

When the September 3 match began before a sold-out crowd of 24,685—deliberately assembled in Columbus to avoid the pro-Mexican atmospheres that had plagued American qualifiers in larger markets—the opening exchanges suggested the cagey affair that most observers had predicted. Both teams probed cautiously, aware that a single mistake could determine not just the evening's outcome but the trajectory of their World Cup campaigns. Mexico, despite its reputation for flair, seemed content to absorb American pressure and rely on counterattacks led by Jared Borgetti, its career leading scorer, whose physical presence had troubled the Americans in March's defeat in Mexico City.

The first half unfolded as a tactical chess match that favored neither side. The Americans, playing with the urgency of a team that understood the opportunity before them, created better chances without finding the clinical finishing that had eluded them against Trinidad. Donovan, operating in a hybrid role that allowed him to drift between the lines, found space repeatedly but could not convert his movement into clear scoring opportunities. Mexico's best moment came in first-half stoppage time when Ramón Morales's free kick from just outside the penalty area forced a diving save from Kasey Keller, a reminder that for all their recent struggles on American soil, El Tri remained capable of moments that could alter the evening's narrative.

The transformation came eight minutes into the second half, when Lewis stepped forward to take a free kick from 35 yards on the right flank. His floating delivery found the crowded penalty area where Onyewu, towering over Mexico's smaller defenders, rose to meet the ball with the kind of presence that Arena had envisioned when selecting his lineup. The defender's header struck the left post with enough force to bounce directly back into the path of Steve Ralston, whose instinctive finish into the unguarded net provided the breakthrough that had seemed increasingly elusive as the match wore on.

The goal's significance extended beyond its immediate impact on the scoreline. Ralston, making just his 13th international appearance and constantly fighting for his place in Arena's plans, had delivered in the moment when American soccer needed him most. His fourth international goal came not through individual brilliance but through the kind of opportunistic finishing that separated competent teams from genuine contenders. More importantly, the goal demonstrated that the Americans had learned to capitalize on the sort of set-piece opportunities that Mexico's technical superiority in open play had seemed likely to neutralize.

If the opening goal revealed American pragmatism, the second showcased their growing tactical sophistication. Just five minutes after Ralston's strike, Donovan won a corner kick that seemed routine until the Americans demonstrated the kind of preparation that reflected Arena's meticulous approach to big matches. Rather than deliver a traditional cross, Donovan played the ball short, creating the numerical advantage that allowed Reyna to find DaMarcus Beasley unmarked at the penalty spot. The midfielder's left-footed finish, curling beyond the reach of Sánchez, provided the cushion that transformed a tense qualifier into a celebration of American soccer's steady ascendance.

The final 30 minutes became an exercise in game management, showcasing American soccer's growing confidence in high-pressure situations. Rather than retreat into the defensive shell that had characterized their Gold Cup performances, the Americans continued to press forward, content to trade possession for territorial advantage while never allowing Mexico the sustained pressure that might have created genuine scoring opportunities. Keller, making his 50th victory in international competition, was rarely tested as the American midfield quartet of Armas, Reyna, Beasley, and Ralston controlled the match's rhythm with the kind of composure that had been unthinkable just a generation earlier.

As the final whistle sounded, the celebration that followed carried significance that transcended the immediate achievement of World Cup qualification. The American players, draped in flags and surrounded by fireworks, were not just celebrating their fifth consecutive World Cup appearance but also marking their emergence as the first CONCACAF nation to clinch qualification for the 2006 World Cup in Germany. The symbolism was unmistakable—American soccer, so long defined by last-minute heroics and narrow escapes, had secured its World Cup place with three matches to spare and four points clear of its nearest challenger.

The victory avenged March's defeat in Mexico City while extending American dominance on home soil to seven consecutive matches without conceding a goal to their rivals. Keller's shutout stretched his qualifying streak to 507 scoreless minutes, a run that had transformed American qualifying from the nail-biting affairs of previous cycles into demonstrations of regional supremacy. Yet the evening's true significance lay not in any single statistic but in the manner of the victory—tactically disciplined, opportunistically clinical, and executed with the kind of confidence that suggested the Americans had internalized their status as CONCACAF's co-leaders.

The path forward led through three remaining qualifiers that serve as preparation rather than desperation. After a goalless draw with Guatemala, against Costa Rica in San José, the Americans suffered their only defeat of the qualifying campaign, a 3-0 loss that served as a reminder of the dangers of complacency. The setback prompted Arena to field an experimental lineup against Panama in the final qualifier, giving debuts to Justin Mapp and Brian Carroll. At the same time, Kyle Martino and Taylor Twellman scored their first international goals in a comfortable 2-0 victory.

The Americans finished the final round of qualifying with a 7-2-1 record and 22 points, six clear of second-place Mexico and 13 points ahead of third-place Costa Rica. The margin of superiority reflected not just individual matches won but the systematic approach that had transformed American soccer from a collection of athletic overachievers into a program capable of sustained excellence. As they prepared for the 2006 World Cup, the Americans carried with them the confidence that comes from proving their worth against their most significant rival in their most crucial moment.

America's Second International - A Draw With Norway

On This Day in 1916, the US Faced One of Its Toughest Tests of the Tour, Earning a Draw in Christiania

The violence that erupted in Gothenburg cast a shadow over what had begun as a triumphant tour. After their 2-1 victory over Örgryte, American players found themselves fleeing a mob of incensed supporters who had pinned goalkeeper George Tintle to a fence and kicked him. The scene descended into chaos as fans hurled stones at the team's automobiles. At the same time, secretary Thomas Cahill engaged in a street fight to protect the American flag from a would-be vandal, wielding his cane against his assailant before police intervened with drawn swords.

The ugly aftermath forced a reckoning with Swedish critics who dismissed the Americans' aggressive style as primitive brutality unsuited to civilized football. Yet even as some condemned their methods, others recognized something revolutionary in their approach. Gothenburg sportswriter Carl Linde observed that this represented "a new way of playing," noting how American willpower compensated for technical deficiencies through sheer physical commitment and an uncompromising will to win.

King Gustav himself, reportedly vexed by the violence, ordered a special commission to investigate the incidents. The Americans, shaken by the hostility, refused to play another match in Gothenburg. As they prepared to travel north to Christiania, they faced not just a different opponent but a test of whether their controversial methods could succeed without provoking similar scenes.

Norway presented a fascinating contrast to Sweden. While the hosts had accumulated experience through 37 international matches, Norway remained winless after 19 attempts, managing only four draws and suffering 15 defeats. Yet this record belied their growing competence, and manager Cahill anticipated their most challenging encounter yet. The Norwegians had developed a reputation for fast, attacking play that could expose any defensive vulnerabilities in the American system.

The match held special significance beyond the sporting contest. A crowd of 20,000 was expected at Christiania—one of the largest ever assembled for a Norwegian sporting event. The Americans needed to prove their style could produce results without the ugly confrontations that had marred their Swedish experience. More importantly, they faced the prospect of completing their historic tour on a positive note that would vindicate Cahill's ambitious vision for American soccer.

September 3 arrived with crisp autumn weather and mounting anticipation throughout Christiania. The Americans fielded their strongest available lineup, with captain Thomas Swords leading the attack and Charles Ellis anchoring the midfield. Norway, desperate to record their first international victory, deployed an aggressive formation designed to exploit their pace advantage over the visiting defenders. The opening exchanges established the match's character immediately. Where Sweden had been taken aback by American intensity, Norway met fire with fire, matching the visitors' high tempo and physical commitment. 

The deadlock lasted 35 minutes before disaster struck the American cause. During a fierce challenge in midfield, one of the American players sustained an injury that left him unable to continue. Under the rules of the era, no substitution was permitted, reducing the visitors to ten men for the remainder of the contest. Yet it was the short-handed Americans who struck first. Ellis, who had earned criticism for his role in the Gothenburg confrontations, redeemed himself with a moment of individual brilliance. Collecting the ball in the center circle, the Brooklyn Celtics midfielder embarked on a determined run that carved through the Norwegian defense. His finish was clinical, sending the American supporters among the crowd into raptures while silencing the home faithful.

Norway's equalizer arrived through sustained pressure rather than individual inspiration. The home forwards, encouraged by their numerical advantage, began to find spaces in the American defense. When the ball fell kindly in the penalty area, the Norwegian striker Kaare Engebretsen made no mistake, driving his shot past the American goalkeeper to level the score. The stadium erupted as twenty thousand voices acclaimed their team's persistence. The final thirty minutes tested both teams' resolve. Norway, scenting their first international victory, committed additional players forward in waves of attack. The Americans, reduced to playing with nine men after a second injury, found themselves defending desperately while seeking opportunities to counter-attack. 

American defenders threw their bodies into crucial blocks, while the goalkeeper produced saves that kept his team's hopes alive. At the other end, the visitors created sporadic chances through their direct approach, but Norway's defense held firm under pressure. The referee's final whistle brought cheers from the capacity crowd, who had witnessed a genuine spectacle regardless of the result. The 1-1 draw represented Norway's best result to date against established opposition, while the Americans had demonstrated remarkable resilience in the face of adversity. 

Unlike the scenes in Gothenburg, both sets of players received warm applause as they left the field, suggesting that aggressive play need not inevitably lead to confrontation when matched by sporting opponents. The tour concluded with a return to Stockholm, where the Americans avenged their earlier 3-0 defeat with a 2-1 victory. The final statistics—three wins, two draws, and one defeat—established crucial precedents for American international soccer. The team's direct style had proven effective against established European opposition, while their geographical diversity demonstrated that American soccer possessed national strength.

The cultural exchange extended beyond football. American baseball demonstrations so impressed King Gustav that he introduced the sport into Stockholm schools. Two members of the touring party, Ellis and trainer Harry Davenport, accepted offers to remain in Sweden at $50 per week as early American soccer exports.

As the remaining players sailed home aboard the Oscar II, they carried the satisfaction of having opened a new chapter in American soccer history. The draw in Christiania, achieved against overwhelming odds, had demonstrated that their methods could succeed through sporting rather than controversial means. Though nearly eight years would pass before the next official American international, the precedents established in 1916—geographical diversity, physical commitment, and tactical simplicity—would become hallmarks of American play for more than a century to come.