I believe that I have never been more nervous for a sporting event than I was before Saturday’s World Cup match between the United States and Italy. The possible finality of the moment was enormous. After a baffling, poor performance in the first game against the Czech Republic, the Americans were one loss away from seeing all the progress made after the 2002 World Cup dashed in the span of six days.

It was impossible not to be jittery after the 3-0 loss to the Czechs on June 12, considering that after just 90 minutes, there was a chance that promising Cup dreams could turn to dust. Before the tournament, I believed that these were “Our Boys” going over to Europe to take on the world. Some in this country decried Gatorade’s use of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” as the background to a commercial showing American players dealing with the abuses of playing abroad, yet the spot made me more proud than ever to be an American soccer fan.

There were to be no prima donnas on this team, no forwards vying for Oscars after every simple touch from the opposition, just 23 men fighting for their sport and their country. There was Brian McBride, the tough striker, who fought through a golf ball-sized lump on his forehead to score – with his injured noggin, no less – in a friendly game against Latvia May 28. There was Oguchi Onyewu, with a style uniquely American, redefining the center back position with his rugged play. Perhaps most importantly, there was Landon Donovan, who would show the world with each daring run that his decision to leave Germany and ply his trade in America was no mistake.

Our Boys had a lot to prove after 2002, and the Czech loss was like a shot to the gut. Internationally, the quarterfinal appearance in 2002 was seen in many parts as a fluke. Many abroad took some glee in watching our country fall flat on its face on the world game’s largest stage this time around.

And at the same time, soccer still fights to be seen as a legitimate sport to many in the United States. The sport receives its fair share of abuse, and the beating from the Czechs gave ammunition to those who could care less if our national team succeeds, and truthfully would probably like to see it fail. For the casual fan, the thrashing seemed to show that this team still wasn’t up to the task of competing with the best teams in the world.

Most discouragingly, the Yanks had seemingly gotten away from their hallmarks – fitness and confidence – against the Czechs. Quickly falling in a 2-0 hole, as the Americans did, sure does a lot to mitigate the importance of fitness, but the lack of confidence was upsetting. Through it all, the endearing image was of the swaggering American coach, Saint Bruce Arena, sitting on the bench with the sour look of a man who had just been excommunicated.

That’s why Saturday’s 1-1 tie was so important. For the first time, I felt like a real fan of the world’s game, introduced to World Cup soccer and everything that comes with it. The U.S. goal and Italian red card brought joy, the American red cards a stream of expletives at the Uruguayan referee, and the final seconds staving off the Italian attack were sheer agony. At the end, the adjectives that came to mind to describe the game – exciting, exhausting, heartbreaking and intense – are the words that depict the event to the rest of the world.

The entire performance was virtuoso, perhaps the gutsiest undertaken by an American team since the 1980 Olympic hockey team. The toughness was back, the fitness there, the confidence overwhelming from the American side. Of the many images from the game, none will live on longer than McBride strolling to the bench, face covered in blood after receiving a flagrant elbow from Italian Daniele De Rossi, only to return with three pieces of tape across his upper cheek. This was the American soccer team telling its fans, its country, its rivals and its sport that not only are we here to stay, but we’re doing it our way as well.

By the time you read this, the Americans’ 10 a.m. game today with Ghana, which the Yanks need to win to have any chance of advancing to the tournament’s knockout stage, will have probably already started – or even ended. No matter the result, if Our Boys give Ghana the same fight they gave Italy, there’s no better reason to be proud of the Americans, because once and for all, the world has been served notice that American soccer is a force to be reckoned with.

Jeff Svoboda is a former sports editor of The Lantern. All members of Sam’s Army can reach him for comment at [email protected].