Berhalter Hired

On This Day in 2018, Berhalter Appointed to Lead USMNT After Historic Failure

On December 2, U.S. Soccer officially announced the hiring of Gregg Berhalter as head coach of the Men's National Team, ending a painful 14-month search that had become a symbol of the federation's dysfunction. The appointment came more than a year after Bruce Arena's resignation following the team's catastrophic failure to qualify for the 2018 World Cup — a loss in Trinidad and Tobago that represented the program's darkest moment in three decades. What should have been a straightforward hiring process had instead devolved into a protracted saga, delayed by a contentious presidential election, the 2026 World Cup bid, and the creation of an entirely new organizational structure that left the program adrift while rivals moved swiftly to rebuild.

Berhalter's path to the national team job had been forged not in Europe's elite leagues but through a methodical career that blended international playing experience with tactical education across multiple continents. The former defender had represented the United States at two World Cups, earning 44 caps during a 17-year playing career that took him through the Netherlands, England, Germany, and MLS, where he won both the Supporters' Shield and MLS Cup with the LA Galaxy in 2011. After becoming the first American to manage in Europe with an 18-month stint at Sweden's Hammarby IF—where he was ultimately dismissed for fielding teams deemed too defensive—Berhalter had rebuilt his reputation over five seasons with the Columbus Crew. Despite operating with one of the league's smallest payrolls, he guided the team to four playoff appearances and an MLS Cup final, developing a reputation for possession-based, attacking football that maximized limited resources through superior organization and preparation.

The journey to Berhalter's appointment had been anything but direct. After Arena stepped down in October 2017, U.S. Soccer president Sunil Gulati announced he wouldn't seek reelection, leaving the coaching search for his successor. The federation then created a new general manager position specifically to oversee such decisions—a structural change that added months to the timeline. Carlos Cordeiro won the presidency in February 2018 but immediately focused on securing the 2026 World Cup bid rather than hiring personnel, further delaying progress. Earnie Stewart, Berhalter's former national team teammate, wasn't hired as general manager until June and didn't officially start work until August 1. By the time Stewart began his search—consulting with former national team captains who had earned 100 caps, developing detailed candidate profiles, and evaluating 33 potential coaches—Spain, Egypt, and Tunisia had all hired new managers within six weeks of their World Cup eliminations.

Yet for all the procedural delays, Stewart's search moved decisively once it began. After narrowing his list to 11 candidates and conducting just two formal interviews, with Berhalter and former FC Dallas coach Oscar Pareja, Stewart settled on the man he had known for decades. Berhalter traveled to Chicago for meetings with Stewart and U.S. Soccer's technical staff, then delivered a four-hour presentation in Miami to Cordeiro and chief executive Dan Flynn outlining his tactical philosophy and vision for the program. The process raised questions about potential conflicts of interest — Berhalter's brother Jay served as U.S. Soccer's chief commercial officer, though Stewart insisted Jay had no involvement in the coaching search. Critics also questioned whether Stewart's personal connection to Berhalter had narrowed the candidate pool too severely, noting that respected coaches like Tata Martino, Peter Vermes, and Julen Lopetegui were never formally interviewed.

The appointment represented a generational shift in American soccer's tactical identity. Where previous coaches had often relied on counterattacking football, physical superiority and a never-give-up mentality, Berhalter championed a philosophy built around possession, pressing and systematic attacking play. His Columbus teams had been renowned for building attacks methodically from the goalkeeper, playing through opponent pressure rather than going direct, and creating scoring opportunities through coordinated movement rather than individual brilliance. Cordeiro framed this approach as distinctly American—aggressive, proactive, and uncompromising—while Stewart emphasized Berhalter's commitment to continuous learning and player development. The hope was that this style would unlock the potential of an emerging generation led by Christian Pulisic, Tyler Adams and Weston McKennie, all 20 or younger, who possessed the technical quality to execute a more sophisticated tactical system.

When Berhalter was introduced at a press conference in New York, he acknowledged the weight of stepping into a program still reeling from failure. He had initially doubted his readiness for the position—in October 2017, just after the Trinidad loss, he'd said he had "a lot of coaching to do" before being prepared for the national team job. But the months between that statement and Stewart's phone call in late August had crystallized his thinking. He spoke about creating a team with a clear identity, one where circulation and line-breaking would become defining characteristics. He emphasized his unique understanding of both MLS-based and European-based players, having experienced both environments during his playing career. Most importantly, he framed the opportunity not as a burden but as a chance to build something special with players searching for direction after more than a year under caretaker Dave Sarachan.

Berhalter's mandate extended beyond tactical adjustments. With the 2022 World Cup qualifying cycle set to begin in less than two years, he faced the challenge of integrating veterans into a roster that Sarachan had deliberately made youth-oriented, giving 23 players their international debuts during his interim tenure. He would need to establish a captain, decide whether to deploy Pulisic centrally or wide, and build the kind of winning culture that had been conspicuously absent during the final stages of the previous cycle. 

His first training camp would come in January with mostly MLS-based players, followed by friendlies against Panama and Costa Rica that would offer only a glimpse of what the full-strength team might become. The real test would arrive with the Gold Cup in June and, ultimately, with the high-stakes qualifying matches where American soccer would discover whether 14 months of waiting had been justified—or whether the program had simply traded one set of problems for another while the rest of the world moved on without them.

A Draw to End 1984

On This Day in 1984, the U.S. Had a Steep Learning Curve to Close Out the Year, Which Culminated in This 2-2 Draw with Ecuador

The Columbus Cup trophy sat in some office at the U.S. Soccer Federation headquarters, tangible proof that October 11 had happened—that Ade Coker's late goal against Colombia at the Los Angeles Coliseum had delivered silverware, that the Americans had conquered a four-nation tournament featuring World Cup-caliber opposition. The victory over El Salvador three days earlier, Jeff Hooker's breakthrough, and Rick Davis's conversion from twenty-two yards felt like momentum building toward something larger. Mayor Tom Bradley had declared it "International Soccer Week." For a brief moment, American soccer felt like it belonged in the conversation.

Then came the education. Three days after lifting the Columbus Cup, the Americans walked into Guatemala City's Mateo Flores Stadium carrying the confidence of champions. They left carrying the humiliation of a 4-0 defeat, outshot 13-to-7 by a Guatemalan side that picked them apart methodically—one goal in the first half to establish control, then three in the final 17 minutes to hammer home the lesson. Eddy Albures and Eduardo Estrada each scored twice before 20,000 fans who watched their team dismantle the Columbus Cup champions with the ease of professors correcting undergraduates who'd gotten ahead of themselves.

Three days after Guatemala, Mexico City came. Neza Stadium—one of 12 venues being prepared to host the 1986 World Cup—held 27,000 for what should have been a mere exhibition but felt like an examination the Americans weren't ready to take. Dante Juarez gave Mexico the lead in the 39th minute. Perry Van Der Beck equalized with a header from 10 yards, Greg Thompson providing the service, offering brief hope that the collapse in Guatemala had been an aberration. Then Gonzalo Farfan's shot deflected off Kevin Crow's left thigh in the 65th minute, the ball rolling past Winston DuBose to make it 2-1. Second consecutive defeat.

Captain Rick Davis, preparing for the Major Indoor Soccer League season, was among the starters absent. That detail mattered more than anyone wanted to admit. The MISL—where most of America's best players earned their livelihood—had become a scheduling adversary, its winter season creating impossible choices between club obligations and national team duty. The squad would disband after Mexico until the following May, when Trinidad & Tobago and Costa Rica awaited in the second round of qualifying. Five months between meaningful matches.

Alkis Panagoulias needed to see who could play when the veterans weren't available. The exhibitions against Ecuador—back-to-back matches scheduled for November 30 at Hofstra University and December 2 in Miami—would serve as a laboratory for experimentation. Six players would earn their first international caps Friday night on Long Island. Four more would debut Sunday in Florida. The overflow crowd of nearly 10,000 at Hofstra saw promise without production. The Americans outshot Ecuador 11-to-6, creating quality chances that forced goalkeeper Israel Rodriguez into diving saves. Steve Sharp struck from inside 10 yards in the first half. Paul Caligiuri did the same. Both times, Rodriguez denied them. The final whistle blew on a 0-0 draw that felt more like artistic frustration than tactical success.

Two days later, 4,000 spectators filed into Tamiami Stadium in Miami, wondering if this young American side could convert chances into goals. They received their answer almost immediately. 44 seconds into the match, Sharp stole possession deep in Ecuador's end and struck from 20 yards. The shot deflected off defender Elias DeNegri's left leg, the change of direction catching Rodriguez completely wrong-footed. The ball skipped past his outstretched hands and into the net. The Americans had scored faster than most teams complete their opening possession.

They doubled the advantage at 3:30. Jeff Hooker's cross found Jacques Ladouceur, whose initial shot bounced off Rodriguez. Ladouceur collected the rebound and finished. Two goals in the opening four minutes. "We made things happen at the outset," Panagoulias said afterward, the satisfaction in his voice already tempered by what followed. "The problem was that Ecuador kept the ball in our end for the rest of the half, and we seemed unable to do anything about it."

The 2-0 lead became a psychological trap. Ecuador pressured Winston DuBose—the former Tampa Bay Rowdies and Tulsa Roughnecks goalkeeper—for the remainder of the first half, probing for weaknesses in an American defense trying to protect its advantage rather than extend it. In the 39th minute, Carlos Cuvi found space and finished, cutting the deficit in half just before halftime.

Two minutes into the second half, the fragility became a catastrophe. Goalkeeper Jamie Swanner, who'd replaced DuBose at the break, collided with defender Mike Windischmann in the penalty area. The defensive miscommunication left Hermen Benitez alone with an open net. He didn't miss. The match was level at 2-2, Ecuador having erased a two-goal deficit through persistence and American errors. "You cannot allow goals of that nature," Panagoulias said, the frustration evident.

Another note from this match was the international debut of Eddie Hawkins, who started in defense. He became the first American-born black player to play with the U.S. national team. Ecuador finished the match outshooting the Americans 13-to-6, the statistical disparity telling the same story Guatemala had told in October: the United States could compete in spurts but couldn't dictate 90 minutes against competent international opposition. Sharp's deflected goal and Ladouceur's opportunistic finish were gifts as much as achievements.

"We have to acquire the skill of dictating the flow of a match," Panagoulias explained, articulating the central problem. "What that means is we have to be able to run and attack when we're ready to do so, and we must learn how to slow the pace down when the attack is put to us. We didn't do a good job of that today."

The coach understood what the results demanded he acknowledge: the Columbus Cup victory had been real but limited in its meaning. Guatemala and Mexico had exposed technical deficiencies. The two matches against Ecuador had revealed tactical immaturity—the inability to manage a match psychologically, to recognize when to press and when to consolidate.

DuBose, who'd recorded three saves before giving way to Swanner, offered a more nuanced assessment. "We can easily reach the third round," he said, referring to the May matches against Trinidad and Tobago and Costa Rica. "To go beyond that, we'll need the players with professional experience. Our young guys have done well, but to reach the finals, you have to play teams more skilled than Ecuador."

The United States hadn't reached the World Cup final round since 1950, when that legendary team had shocked England in Belo Horizonte. 34 years had passed. The Columbus Cup trophy sitting in some federation office couldn't change that history, couldn't bridge the gap between American ambition and international reality.

But 1984 ended with clarity about what needed to happen in 1985. The second round awaits—Trinidad and Tobago on May 15 and 19, Costa Rica on May 26 and 31. A round-robin format where the winner would advance to the third round, one step closer to Mexico. The Americans would need Davis and the other MISL veterans available. They would need Panagoulias to solve the tactical puzzle of dictating matches rather than surviving them.

Five months remained until the next meaningful match. Five months to turn the education delivered by Guatemala, Mexico, and Ecuador into wisdom. The 2-2 draw in Miami closed the book on 1984—a year that had begun with promise, delivered both triumph and humiliation, and ended with the most dangerous thing American soccer could possess as it looked toward 1985: hope tempered by reality, ambition chastened by experience, and the faint outline of a path forward through the Caribbean heat awaiting them in May.