Claudio Reyna has a unique perspective on European soccer. One of the first Americans to feature regularly in Europe, he captained Wolfsburg in the Bundesliga, led Manchester City in the English Premiership, and won a championship with Glasgow Rangers in Scotland; he’s played against 11 of the national teams heading for Euro 2008, including Italy, whom the U.S. fought to a wild 1-1 draw in the last World Cup. “They are born tacticians,” says Reyna of the Italians. “They force you into positions. Watching them defend as a national team, it’s really an art.”
Italy is a favorite to create another masterpiece in Euro 2008, which is being hosted this year — with restrained enthusiasm — by Austria and Switzerland. The Italians, of course, are not a sure thing. They will be challenged by France — whom they defeated in the World Cup final — the Netherlands, Germany, Portugal, Croatia … in other words, the usual suspects. (Four years ago, Greece miraculously beat stratospheric odds to win, a performance unlikely to be repeated.) And as is also now usual, the tournament will be followed on televisions not just in Europe, but everywhere from Kunming, China to — well, to Kearney, N.J., actually. And thereby hangs a tale.
“The beauty of [European football],” says Reyna, “is that you have countries that border each other, yet they all have a distinct style.” Americans didn’t have to go to Europe to be exposed to such variety. It’s been on view in the U.S. for 150 years. Whenever the 11th man from any European town emigrated to the States, a football team got organized. Football, the real variety, is an American game, too. Since the 19th century, whether it was Scottish mill hands in New Jersey, Portuguese fishermen in Massachusetts, Ukrainian steel workers in Pennsylvania, Italian masons and Irish sandhogs in New York City, or German brewers and shopkeepers in Missouri, one ethnicity after the next established its community and its football, not necessarily in that order.
With those immigrants came an approach to the game as distinct as their cuisines. Long before I ever watched the European championships — the cable sports network ESPN didn’t televise any games in the U.S. until 1996 — I was familiar with Europeans’ football. I had been seeing it on the field, first as a kid living in an immigrant-enriched community near Newark, N.J. — where one learned that Portuguese teams have flair and fire, and that a Scotsman has a very broad view as to what constitutes a fair challenge. My European education would continue in the Cosmopolitan Soccer League, in New York City. The CSL began life in 1923 as the German-American Soccer League, but has long served as a melting pot of teams: Blau Weiss Gotchee, Brooklyn Italians, Greek-American Atlas, Polonia NY, Hungaria, FC Bulgaria, NY Albanians, CD Iberia.
When I got to Europe as a journalist (and as a player when my club team toured) it was amusing to see teams replicate what I’d experienced in New York: the way an Irish team plays the offside trap; an Italian midfielder’s pass to an outside back that is as predictable as pasta for dinner; the steely play of the Poles contrasted with the passion of the Greeks. New York City’s Croatian teams impressed me with their technical approach; the Hungarians, once powerhouses, have faded; the Greeks are defending champions. Sound familiar?
I learned, also, that the farther south in Europe your opponent’s roots, the more dazzling the footballing and the hotter the tempers. Get the Italians mad at each other, and you’ve got a good shot at winning. Get ahead of a Greek team, and get ready for a fightback. Or at least a fight: the Greeks are people with a tremendous culture and history — and they play every game like it’s a World Cup — but my experience has been that when a Greek walks onto the pitch his passion for the game is such that he’s one whistle away from snapping. It’s not surprising that it took a German, Otto Rehhagel, to channel that energy into the kind of disciplined defense that allowed Greece to beat France, the Czech Republic and (speaking of passion) Portugal, to win in 2004. In Greek neighborhoods such as Astoria, in the New York borough of Queens, the joy was explosive.
Euro 2008 will reach a record audience in the U.S. this year. Ever louder exclamations of joy and despair will resonate not only from European immigrants but from their second-, third- and fourth-generation offspring, augmented by a growing Hispanic audience. For the first time, ESPN is televising every game. The final will be shown on a big broadcast network, ABC, and the ratings could top the National Hockey League’s finals — unthinkable even 10 years ago. “There’s a big fan base for each team here. And U.S. fans love big events: they love something where the excitement builds,” says Russell Wolfe, head of ESPN International.
Assimilating, yet staying connected to the motherland, is an essential part of the immigrant experience in the U.S. At least on the football field, Europe, too, has learned that diversity can have its rewards. The great Zinedine Zidane is the son of an Algerian; Florent Malouda, born in French Guiana, and Congo-born Claude Makelele will feature for France this year. Turkey once exported guest workers to Switzerland and Germany, and is now seeing a return. Several of its team, including Hamit Altintop and Hakan Balta, are German-born. Germany itself reflects Europe’s now swirling populace. Two strikers, Miroslav Klose and Lukas Poldowski, are ethnic Poles, and striker Kevin Kuranyi was born in Brazil. An intriguing newcomer, Stuttgart striker Mario Gomez, is a Spanish-German blend whose subtle southern touch made him the Bundesliga’s second-best striker behind Bayern Munich and Luca Toni of Italy.
Germany will be a favorite; it always is. “The Germans just find a way,” says Kasey Keller, who played with Borussia Mönchengladbach. Keller remembers the mediocre German team that reached the World Cup final in 2002 and controversially beat the U.S. 1-0 in the quarters. “I could put you on the phone with some of those guys: how they got to [the final], they have no idea; they don’t know how they did it, but they did it.” This summer, the German team is more talented up front, and rock solid as ever at the back. “You’re looking at a team with five or six guys that are 6 ft. 3 in., 6 ft. 4 in.,” says Keller. “They can still be mechanical — we are going to win a free kick — then there’s going to be five monsters flying into the box.” Pencil in the monsters for the semis.
Do not pencil in the Spanish for the semis. Just hope they get there. “Spain is the anti-Germany,” says Keller, who played in La Liga for Rayo Vallecano. “Spain will do everything possible to not get into the final.” The problem, says Reyna, is that Spain would rather win a 5-3 goal fest than grind it out 1-0 like the Italians. Yet Spain’s game, says Keller, “is the style of game that everybody wants to see. Everybody has respect for Sweden. But what do you want to watch?” As a goalkeeper, Keller doesn’t want to watch Cristiano Ronaldo standing over a free kick, or Ruud van Nistelrooy anywhere near the box. “You don’t even know he’s there,” he says of the Dutch striker. “You turn around and the ball’s in the back of the net.” And Van Nistelrooy will have Real Madrid teammates Arjen Robben and Wesley Sneijder in support, along with Arsenal’s Robin van Persie.
Ronaldo, who has had a brilliant season for Manchester United, doesn’t seem to need much support. If his Portuguese team can keep its head, it could yet win — and you could then expect Providence, R.I., and New Bedford, Mass., to celebrate a victory that has been agonizingly long in coming. Portugal will have much to do before such a result, of course. Germany could easily stand in their way. In his preparations for Euro 2008, German coach Joachim Loew has run his team through basketball drills to improve its defense. That’s an original American game, of course, and we’re more than happy to share it with him. After all, German immigrants helped establish football in America. It’s good to return the favor.