The Best Day

Early in the game, after Algeria's first scoring opportunity, it became clear just how alone our American table was. A low rumble of enthusiasm from the crowd of Moroccan men surrounding us crescendoed into cries of hope, and then died into scattered bursts of vocal disgust. And then emerging from those bursts came the counterpoint of supportive applause from our table.

When the U.S. attacked, the mini-symphony reversed itself.

And it continued like that the entire game.

When the Clint Dempsey goal in the first half was disallowed for a suspect offsides (AGAIN!!!), only the volume of this community musical changed.

However, when Landon Donovan put home the winner in the 91st minute, the repetitive motif of the past two hours was superseded by ecstatic shouts of joy, high-fives, and straight-up hollering.

Two minutes later when this climax had still not subsided, the cafe owner (who knows me) motioned, with a shake and a grin, for me to sit down and quiet down.

The last 24 hours have been by far the best here in Morocco.

Everywhere I go people come out to congratulate me. It's as though I recently got married or had my first child or won a special award. The usual greetings from the Moroccans who work along my street have turned into celebratory hails. My nation's soccer team won an amazing game in amazing fashion. And in the process they extended their stay in the greatest tournament in the world. People respect that here.

One of the waiters in my favorite cafe told me today that since the U.S. had won, I should buy him a gift. I told him that when the U.S. wins the entire World Cup, I would buy everyone a gift.

In retrospect maybe that's something I shouldn't have said.