As autumn settled over North America in 1976, the United States national soccer team found itself in unfamiliar territory: contention. For the first time in the sport's troubled American history, the national team had spent months together in preparation, drawing from an expanded NASL that now provided a genuine professional foundation. Walt Chyzowych, appointed to lead the 1978 World Cup qualifying campaign, had instituted the program's first extensive training camp in Colorado Springs, attempting to build the kind of sustained preparation that had always eluded American soccer.
The qualifying campaign opened in Vancouver on September 15, where the United States took an early lead through Boris Bandov's eighth-minute strike. The Americans maintained disciplined defensive shape as Canada pressed, but the match turned in the 72nd minute when defender Steve Pecher, already carrying a yellow card, was ejected for abusive language. Five minutes later, Bob Bolitho equalized for a 1-1 draw that left both teams searching for answers.
The home match against Mexico at the Los Angeles Coliseum on September 29 showcased both American resilience and offensive impotence. Playing without the suspended Pecher and benched Bobby Smith, the Americans defended magnificently before 33,171 spectators—a record crowd that reflected the growing Mexican-American population more than any surge in domestic interest. Brooklyn native Arnold Mausser produced a series of spectacular saves, including denying Javier Cardenas from the penalty spot late in the match.
"We'll match him with any goalie in the world," Chyzowych declared afterward. "He was great." But while the defense held firm in the scoreless draw, the American attack barely existed. The team sat deep, content to absorb pressure without mounting any sustained offensive threat—a strategy that earned a crucial point but revealed troubling limitations.
Even with improved infrastructure, familiar American dysfunction surfaced. After assembling his squad in Colorado and conducting a South American exhibition tour before qualifying, Chyzowych watched as his team imploded over money. The federation had failed to inform players of their compensation until they had already spent a month in camp. When officials finally offered $250 weekly—less than players had earned two years earlier and a fraction of what many made with their NASL clubs—team spokesman Smith declared the squad on strike.
"There are 20 players on the team. We're unanimous, 100 percent on this," Smith told reporters on October 6. "The younger players see what the older players have been through and don't want to go through it. The older players don't want the younger players to go through it."
The strike lasted barely 24 hours. By October 7, the players had accepted a compromise: $250 weekly plus $50 per World Cup qualifier, still representing a pay cut from previous campaigns. The hasty resolution allowed training to resume, but the episode exposed the continuing tension between American-born players and a federation that treated them as afterthoughts compared to the foreign stars dominating the NASL.
Mexico brutally exposed those limitations from the first encounter on October 15 in Puebla. Playing at Cuauhtémoc Stadium before 35,000 spectators, the Americans conceded twice before halftime and surrendered a disputed penalty converted by Davila in the 52nd minute for a 3-0 defeat. The Americans managed fewer than 10 shots against 25 for Mexico, spending nearly the entire match pinned in their own half. Canadian referee Werner Winsemann's officiating enraged the American players, who felt he ignored Mexican rough play while penalizing them severely. When they returned to their locker room, they discovered their clothes and personal belongings had been stolen—a fitting coda to a miserable afternoon.
The loss dropped the United States to last place with two points, trailing Canada's three. Mexico also had three points after losing to Canada 1-0 in Toronto and drawing with the Americans in Los Angeles. The Americans faced elimination unless they could defeat Canada in their final match and hope for favorable results elsewhere. On October 20, the Seattle Kingdome hosted soccer history: the first World Cup qualifier ever played indoors. The cavernous stadium, usually home to baseball's Mariners, had been converted to accommodate 17,675 spectators who came to witness what seemed an improbable American redemption story.
The first half belonged to the United States in possession, but to Canadian goalkeeper Tony Chursky in execution. The Americans outshot Canada 10-5, controlling the tempo and creating chances, but Chursky repeatedly denied them. Mausser, meanwhile, continued his excellent form with a spectacular diving save to deny Bruce Wilson midway through the period. The teams went to the interval scoreless, the Americans' dominance unrewarded.
The breakthrough came in the 58th minute through the youngest player on the field. Miro Rys, an 18-year-old just months removed from high school, collected a deflected shot from Julie Veee and went to work. The Morton East alumni dribbled through three Canadian defenders before sliding a 12-yard shot past Chursky into the left corner of the net.
"I've got the ball right here," Rys shouted in the locker room afterward, pointing to his space. "I'm going to take it home and hang it on the wall. I predicted before the game I would score, but still, when I scored, I felt incredible."
Canadian coach Eckhardt Krautzun recognized the psychological impact immediately. "Once they scored the first goal, it was like a psychological relief," he explained. "Then they dominated and played very cleverly. A goal like that can lift you up to the sky, or it can demoralize you terribly." The Americans nearly surrendered their advantage within minutes. Two minutes after Rys's strike, Gary Thompson crossed from the endline to the left of the goal, but Jim Douglas's shot was smothered by Mausser. Eight minutes later, Thompson created another chance for Buzz Parsons, whose shot from ten yards found only Mausser's chest.
The clincher arrived in the 81st minute. Mike Flater sent a perfect pass down the right flank to Veee, who drew Chursky off his line before finishing from ten yards. Chyzowych, overcome with emotion, sprinted onto the field to embrace his players. Mexican referee Mario Vasquez immediately ejected the coach for entering the playing area. Still, Chyzowych simply grinned broadly and raised a clenched fist high above his head as he strode toward the dressing room. The American team took a victory lap as the Kingdome erupted.
The 2-0 victory vaulted the United States into first place with four points. Mexico and Canada each had three, with one match remaining between them in Toluca the following week. If Canada could manage even a draw in Mexico's high altitude, a playoff would be required. If Mexico won, the Americans would advance to the next round against Central American and Caribbean opposition.
Chyzowych's confidence bordered on euphoria. "If Canada wins in Mexico," he proclaimed, "I will donate my salary for the next three years to the Canadian soccer development program." Krautzun, more realistic about his team's prospects at 8,700 feet, refused to entertain thoughts of victory. "It will be difficult against Mexico," he said. "I must be realistic. The chances are very slim, but we will try everything to get a draw."
The news from Toluca on October 27 stunned everyone: Mexico and Canada had drawn 0-0. Brian Budd's header struck the crossbar for Canada, nearly producing an upset. A Mexican effort hit the same crossbar in the 73rd minute, nearly producing elimination for the visitors. When the match ended level, Mexico topped the group with five points. Canada and the United States each had four points and identical goal differences of minus-one.
The controversial penalty Winsemann had awarded Mexico in Puebla—the one that had so enraged the American players—proved decisive in the final standings. A playoff was scheduled for December 22 in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, to determine which team would join Mexico in the next round. The Americans prepared with matches in Suriname and Curaçao, then played three goalless draws against Haiti's national team. Canada's preparation consisted of a single game against Haiti, which they lost 3-0. The entire American squad watched from the stands, growing increasingly confident as the Canadians—missing two starters and visibly out of shape—looked overwhelmed. Financial constraints had prevented proper preparation; a Vancouver businessman had funded Canada's trip to Haiti only after a radio appeal.
The Americans entered the Stade Sylvio Cator playoff without suspended defender Dave D'Errico, while captain Al Trost insisted on playing despite running a fever. The opening 20 minutes belonged entirely to the United States. Bandov and Mike Flater missed clear chances. Fred Grgurev beat the goalkeeper but saw a Canadian defender clear his shot off the line with his back. Canada withstood the onslaught, gradually organized itself, and began threatening Mausser's goal. In the 21st minute, Bob Lenarduzzi outjumped Bobby Smith to head a high ball in the American penalty area. Mausser came off his line to challenge, but Lenarduzzi won the aerial duel, directing the ball to the unmarked Brian Budd. Budd's shot struck Trost, positioned on the goal line. The deflection sent the ball ricocheting off the post, then the crossbar, and into the net. Canada led 1-0.
The second half saw Santiago Formoso replace the ailing Trost, with Dan Counce later entering for Grgurev. American domination continued without result. Gary Ayre's tight marking of Veee, supported by sweeper Bob Iarusci, eliminated the Americans' primary scoring threat. In the 63rd minute, disaster struck again. Pecher committed a foul on Kodelia and received his second red card of the qualifying campaign. Down to ten men, the Americans' hopes faded. 13 minutes later, the unmarked Lenarduzzi beat Mausser to make it 2-0. Bob Bolitho added a third from a free kick in the 89th minute, completing a 3-0 Canadian victory that sent the United States home once more.
The American dressing room resembled a funeral. Players sat with heads in their hands for long stretches. Others vented rage by kicking benches and chairs. In one corner, witnesses reported, Chyzowych wept openly.
The federation had invested approximately $200,000 in what represented the most intensive preparation in American soccer history. For the first time, players had been together for nearly four months with only occasional interruptions. Chyzowych had no alibis to offer. He acknowledged the federation had provided everything possible, attributing the failure to a lack of forwards "who can finish consistently" and "quality midfielders." Fundamentally, the coach believed, the team lacked a true leader—the kind of personality that develops only when players aren't living in the shadows of foreign stars on their club teams.
The Seattle victory had offered a tantalizing glimpse of what American soccer might achieve with proper preparation and professional infrastructure. Rys's dribble through three defenders, Veee's clinical finish, Mausser's spectacular saves—these were moments of genuine quality that suggested American players could compete at the international level. The Kingdome crowd had witnessed something rare: an American team that believed in itself, that executed under extreme pressure, that looked capable of advancing.
But belief and capability weren't enough when margins were razor-thin and when one disputed penalty, one red card, one deflection off a defender's knee could determine outcomes. The Canada defeat exposed what the Seattle triumph had temporarily obscured: American soccer still lacked the depth, the leadership, and the killer instinct required to navigate the treacherous path to World Cup qualification. The euphoria of October 20 gave way to the familiar heartbreak of December 22, another promising campaign ending in elimination, another generation of American players left wondering what might have been.
