Howard's European Renaissance

 On This Day in 2014, the Goalkeeper Continued His World Cup Form with a 12-Save Performance

The echoes of Salvador still rang in Tim Howard's ears as September arrived on Merseyside. Two months had passed since his record-breaking fifteen saves had transformed the American goalkeeper into an overnight global sensation, yet the 35-year-old veteran found himself seeking something more elusive than internet fame: redemption for a club season that had begun as catastrophically as his World Cup had ended heroically.

The hashtag #ThingsTimHowardCouldSave had captured the imagination of millions, but the cruel irony was that Howard seemingly couldn't save Everton's disastrous start to the 2014-15 campaign. The Toffees had stumbled through five winless preseason friendlies before careening into a Premier League opening that bordered on the surreal. Twice they had squandered leads to draw with Leicester City and Arsenal, then suffered the humiliation of conceding six goals to Chelsea at Goodison Park, equaling a Premier League record by shipping ten goals in their first three matches.

Roberto Martinez's men had finally found their first victory against West Bromwich Albion, but questions lingered about whether the magic of their previous season—when they had narrowly missed Champions League qualification—had been a mirage. The return to European competition after a four-year absence offered both opportunity and pressure. This wasn't just Everton's first Europa League match since 2010; it was Howard's first European appearance since that same campaign, a chance to prove that his World Cup heroics could translate back to club football.

Howard had made another significant decision that summer, one that spoke to both his physical limitations and his unwavering commitment to Everton. He had asked Jürgen Klinsmann for a year-long break from international duty, stepping away from the U.S. national team until September 2015. The decision opened the door for Brad Guzan while allowing Howard to focus entirely on his club obligations. At 35, with his body bearing the accumulated toll of a decade-plus at the highest level, Howard understood that his remaining peak years needed to be invested wisely.

The stage was set at Goodison Park on September 18 for Everton to announce their return to European competition, but few could have anticipated that Howard's European renaissance would mirror the brilliance he had displayed in Brazil. VfL Wolfsburg arrived on Merseyside as dangerous opponents, a German side blessed with technical ability and tactical sophistication that would test every aspect of Everton's renewed ambitions.

From the opening exchanges, it became clear that while Everton would provide the goals, Howard would provide the foundation. The pattern established itself early: Everton would score, then Howard would stand firm against waves of German attacks. Ricardo Rodriguez's unfortunate own goal had given the hosts a 15th-minute lead, but Wolfsburg's response was immediate and sustained. In the 19th minute, Howard faced his first serious test, demonstrating both his shot-stopping ability and commanding presence in dealing with crosses within the space of ten seconds. The crowd at Goodison, still haunted by the defensive frailties displayed against Chelsea, began to sense something special brewing.

As the first half progressed, Howard's save count climbed with metronomic regularity. Kevin De Bruyne, the Belgian midfielder who had tormented defenses across Europe, found his 25-yard efforts comfortably gathered by the American. Rodriguez's dangerous crosses and shots were pushed clear with authority. Each save built upon the last, creating a crescendo of confidence that permeated the entire Everton team.

Seamus Coleman's goal on the stroke of halftime gave Everton a 2-0 lead, but the second half belonged entirely to Howard's artistry. Wolfsburg, desperate to salvage something from their European opener, threw everything forward. What followed was a masterclass in modern goalkeeping, a display that reminded everyone why Howard had reached the pinnacle of his profession.

The 51st minute produced a sequence that encapsulated Howard's brilliance: a shot pushed wide, the resulting corner cleared, the ball worked back into the danger area, blocked by Phil Jagielka's face, worked in again, cleared once more, before the final effort flew harmlessly wide. At the center of the chaos stood Howard, orchestrating the defense with the calm authority of a conductor leading a symphony.

Two minutes later came the double save that had become Howard's signature. Dan Caligiuri's shot struck the goalkeeper's legs, falling perfectly for Luiz Gustavo, whose follow-up was gathered with comfortable assurance. But it was the 55th minute that produced the evening's masterpiece: Rodriguez's curling effort toward the far post met by Howard's full-stretch dive, fingertips diverting the ball away from danger in a save that belonged in any goalkeeper's career highlight reel.

The pattern continued relentlessly. Aaron Hunt's cross was dealt with decisively. Nicklas Bendtner's header was caught with authority. De Bruyne's attempt to find the far post was denied by diving saves that seemed to defy both physics and probability. By the time Kevin Mirallas scored Everton's fourth goal in the 89th minute, Howard had made 12 saves, keeping Wolfsburg at bay despite their 27 attempts toward goal.

Even Rodriguez's sublime 90th+4-minute consolation goal—a curling free kick that clipped the post before nestling in the net—couldn't diminish the magnitude of Howard's performance. It was the only shot all evening that the American didn't even attempt to save, a moment of pure technical brilliance that earned grudging applause even from the Goodison faithful.

As the final whistle echoed around Goodison Park, the significance of the evening began to crystallize. Howard had not only announced Everton's return to European competition with authority; he had proven that his World Cup heroics were no aberration. This was a goalkeeper at the absolute peak of his powers, combining the experience of 15 years at the highest level with the reflexes and positioning that had made him indispensable.

For Everton, the victory represented more than three points in Group H. It was validation of Martinez's ambitious approach, proof that the Toffees belonged among Europe's elite despite their modest resources. For Howard, it was something more personal: confirmation that his decision to step away from international duty had been correct, allowing him to channel his remaining peak years into the club that had given him a platform to showcase his brilliance.

The lighthouse that had illuminated American dreams in Salvador had found a new harbor at Goodison Park, ready to guide Everton through whatever storms lay ahead in their European journey.

Winless at the 1988 Olympics

 On This Day in 1988, a Draw with Argentina to Open the Olympics Highlights a Tough Week

The journey to Seoul had been anything but guaranteed. For the first time since 1972, the United States Olympic soccer team had earned its place through qualification rather than automatic berth, navigating through CONCACAF competition with victories over Canada and dominance in the Central American and Caribbean zone. Yet as coach Lothar Osiander surveyed the draw for the 1988 Olympics, the magnitude of the challenge ahead became crystal clear.

Group C represented what team captain Rick Davis bluntly called "the toughest draw in the competition." Argentina, the reigning World Cup champions from 1986. The Soviet Union, silver medalists from the recent European Championships and tournament favorites. South Korea, the host nation with all the advantages that entailed. For a U.S. team that had never advanced past the first round of Olympic competition, the path to the quarterfinals appeared nearly impossible.

"The Russians are very strong," Osiander acknowledged in the lead-up to the tournament. "They have six players who played in the European Nations Cup." The waiter-turned-national coach understood the reality facing his squad—while Olympic rules prohibited World Cup veterans from participating, the depth of talent in European and South American nations meant their Olympic teams remained formidable, filled with hungry young professionals pushing for spots on future World Cup rosters.

The American team represented a new generation of soccer talent, built around experienced captain Davis and featuring players like Brian Bliss from Webster, New York, and defender Kevin Crow. At 29, Davis found himself in an unfamiliar role as the veteran leader of a group whose technical skills, he admitted, now surpassed his own. The transformation reflected broader changes in American soccer—where previous national teams typically lost narrow, low-scoring affairs, this group possessed genuine attacking threat.

September 18 brought the tournament opener against Argentina at Taegu Stadium, where nearly 30,000 spectators witnessed what would become one of the most significant performances in U.S. Olympic soccer history. From the opening whistle, the Americans displayed a confidence that belied their underdog status, controlling tempo and territory against an Argentine side that appeared listless and uninspired without their World Cup stars.

The first half belonged to the Americans. Bliss and Brent Goulet delivered crisp crossing passes from the flanks, repeatedly finding Davis in dangerous positions. The veteran midfielder, twice finding himself open in the penalty area, couldn't quite convert the clear chances, but the message was unmistakable—the Americans belonged on this stage.

Argentina's struggles continued into the second half, their sloppy play and frequent mistakes allowing the United States to maintain pressure. Four minutes after the restart, Bruce Murray announced American intentions with a thunderous shot that crashed off the left post, the sound echoing around Taegu Stadium like a warning shot. Minutes later, Murray's header from a Peter Vermes cross struck the same post, the ball agonizingly refusing to cross the goal line.

The breakthrough finally arrived with ten minutes remaining, delivered by the most unlikely source. Mike Windischmann, a sweeper by trade who had never scored in international competition, found himself on the left wing as a substitute. When the ball fell to his unfavored left foot just outside the penalty area, the Queens native didn't hesitate, unleashing a powerful shot that found its way through traffic and into the back of the net.

"My dream was to play in the Olympics and then to score a goal," Windischmann said afterward, still disbelieving his fortune. The goal represented more than just a lead—it validated years of growth in American soccer and suggested that this young team might actually achieve the impossible.

For 80 minutes, the Americans had outplayed the world champions, but inexperience would prove costly. With seven minutes remaining, substitute John Harkes was called for a foul inside the penalty area, a decision that would haunt the American camp. Carlos Alfaro Moreno stepped up for Argentina, calmly converting the penalty kick to salvage a 1-1 draw.

"The game was ours," Davis reflected afterward, his frustration evident. "When you're up by a goal, you make them play. You give up nothing, but you make them play. But the American team still tends to be naive. We sit back and we don't form a shell around the penalty area."

Three days later in Pusan, roles reversed against South Korea. The Koreans dominated possession, outshooting the Americans 14-4 in a scoreless draw. Goalkeeper David Vanole emerged as the hero, making crucial saves as Korean shots struck the crossbar. "Today we got lucky," Osiander admitted, but the result kept hopes alive.

The decisive match against the Soviet Union brought devastating reality. Early American nerves led to a 3-0 halftime deficit, with goalkeeper Vanole bearing responsibility for two goals. "We made high school mistakes," Osiander said. "We were nervous with the pressure and enthusiasm." Though second-half goals from Goulet and John Doyle provided consolation, the 4-2 defeat eliminated the United States, extending their first-round exit streak.

Yet something had changed in Seoul. The performance against Argentina demonstrated that American soccer was evolving, that the technical gap was narrowing. The team that battled the world champions to a standstill had proven they belonged on soccer's biggest stage. The 1988 Olympics ended in familiar disappointment, but in that day against Argentina had shown that American dreams were no longer impossible. The quest for Olympic breakthrough would continue, but the foundation for future success had been laid in those 80 magnificent minutes against Argentina.