Adios, Mexico

Onl

y a few genuine sombreros punctuated the 36,000-strong crowd gathered in Jeonju to watch the Mexicans take on the U.S. But even when the final score favored the Americans in a remarkable 2-0 upset, the overwhelmingly Korean crowd was still ole-oleing for the South of the Border squad. The Koreans, it seems, have taken cheering against the U.S. as their second-favorite activity — behind supporting their ascendant home side, of course. Old feuds die hard, and the Koreans are still irked by a controversial decision to award a gold medal to an American short-track speed skater instead of the Korean favorite.

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At the U.S.-Poland match last week, for instance, Koreans cheered on the Polish side with a fervor that the Poles can't seem to muster, well, anywhere else. On Monday, the Koreans were cranking up the mariachi. Except for a small American contingent dubbed Sam's Army, which was cordoned off by watchful armed Korean police, the U.S. heard nothing but boos whenever they touched the ball.

The Americans are plenty used to playing Mexico under such adverse conditions. Except for a game in Columbus, Ohio last year where the team played to home advantage, most of their recent meetings have been contested on hostile turf. Even though this game was played in Korea, it was no different. Still, some Americans professed to appreciate the tense surroundings. "I don't really mind an intimidating atmosphere," says goalkeeper, Brad Friedel, whose golden touch kept the Mexicans scoreless, despite the fact that they had far more shots on goal than the Yanks. "It actually charges me up, and I feel more energetic."

Certainly, the Americans looked like they'd downed their Red Bull, popping up for headers and dashing in for tackles with ferocious speed. Within the first eight minutes, Brian McBride had kicked in a goal, leaving the Mexicans stunned and out-of-breath. Although they controlled the ball for 70% of the time during the first half, the Mexicans never recovered from the lightening strike. Luis Hernandez and Cuauhtemoc Blanco, the usually impressive Mexican forwards, were reduced to dramatics in order to convince the ref to slow the game down. By the 66th minute, just 60 seconds after Landon Donovan had headed another one home for the U.S., Hernandez dove to the ground, writhing in an Oscar-worthy performance. Only one problem: there was nobody around who could possibly have tripped him. Hernandez was promptly yellow-carded.

That the Americans left Jeonju with a 2-0 victory — which automatically catapults them into the quarter-finals — is all the more surprising, given their 3-1 drubbing by the Poles just three days earlier. Indeed, the Americans snuck into the round of 16 only because the Koreans had beaten the Portuguese the same day. After the Poland match, the Americans were subdued, as if they knew they didn't quite deserve the chance to advance. Despite the fact that they had successfully exorcised the memory of their last-place showing four years earlier in France, the team exited the pitch quickly, eschewing the usual group hugs and showboating.

After Monday's match, however, the Americans reveled in having advanced on their own merits. Donovan, who was named the player of the match, raced up to Friedel and jumped on his back. Then leaped on Pablo Mastroeni and Tony Sanneh, the outstanding pair who formed the backbone of the U.S.' solid defense. The joyful scrum teetered for a few seconds before collapsing on the grass. As the American players picked themselves up from the pitch, Cuauhtemoc Blanco watched from the sidelines. This time, his glum expression wasn't just play-acting. The Mexicans, who had topped a group filled with powerhouses Italy and Croatia, had fallen, while the Americans, who had just squeaked into the round of 16, had advanced. Under such circumstances, it's even harder to say adios to World Cup dreams.