U.S. soccer stunted by its own culture

We came across this interesting blog that we wanted to share:

By Luke Cyphers and Doug McIntyre

A couple of years ago, one of this blog's writers had the opportunity to take his daughter to a soccer clinic featuring Abby Wambach. The U.S. star was appropriately charming and inspiring in front of her rapt audience of 200 or so young girls. More than that, she gave a great tip on heading the ball: Square up to the target, with your hands in front of you, and as you strike the ball, move your hands down and back. "Like you're planting ski poles," she said.

Fast forward two years, with said daughter and writer on the couch, watching Wambach save U.S. Soccer's year with a textbook header to tie Brazil on the way to an unforgettable shootout victory. As ball hit net, writer turned to daughter and said, "ski poles."

Of such fundamentals are great soccer moments made. You can have all the grit, determination and American spirit in the world, but without skill it won't amount to much. That's the scary undercurrent of the American women's wonderful run to the World Cup final.

Not to throw cold water on it -- okay, we are throwing cold water on it -- the U.S. women overachieved in Germany. Sure, they were gritty, determined and all that. But they weren't the most skilled team, not by a long shot.

The U.S. lost to Japan because they weren't talented enough with the ball to build a big lead, or calm enough on the ball to hold a small one. In other words, the women are beset by the same long-term problems that confound the men's squad -- a lack of touch, skill and (Wambach and Alex Morgan excepted) finishing ability compared to the world's best teams.

That situation isn't likely to improve soon. The problem is the culture. This nation's soccer instructional system is still more about rich parents, and the coaches who profit from them, than about teaching young children to master the ball.

These are not novel observations: too much tactical coaching, not enough technical instruction; too many soccer parents trying to teach a game they don't know, not enough small-sided pickup matches that let the game itself teach; too much pay-to-play, not enough opportunities for lower-class kids.

It is nonetheless maddening to see the once-dominant women's team starting to slide for the same reasons the men's team has had such a hard time catching up to the planet's elite. The women's program, whose World Cup victory in '99 did so much for U.S. Soccer when it was still reeling from the men's debacle in France in '98, was built on Title IX and strong, athletic, pioneering players who demanded their sport be taken seriously. But since the turn of the century, serious women's soccer has expanded beyond the U.S. and Scandinavia. Countries already versed in the game started to transfer the culture of the sport to the distaff side. Germany and Brazil became powerhouses. France, Italy and Mexico started producing female players with touch and verve because those countries know how to teach the game. Japan does, too.

The U.S. still doesn't. The culture that built the great U.S. women's teams was based on parents who loved their daughters, but who didn't necessarily love soccer. Those parents saw a path to confidence, life lessons and college scholarships. But unlike the rest of the world, most of those parents didn't, and don't, see the game as an end in itself. That's why so few people follow the women's professional league here, despite having the chance to see Wambach, Morgan and Marta go head to head.

This culture gap is catching up with the American women. Most American youth coaches still validate their status (and justify their salaries) by winning tournaments, and that will always lead to the recruitment of big, fast kids who can overpower other preteens and earn results. It can put an early-blooming child on a path to an under-14 showcase, which can put her on a path to the NCAA. But it doesn't cultivate creativity and comfort on the ball, the way places like Brazil and France and Japan do. There, coaches don't care who wins a U-12 match. They care whether players can settle a heavy pass with one deft touch or use guile and footwork to escape double-teams. American kids? Too many of them spend more time in minivans traveling to meaningless tournaments than they do on the ball.

In fairness, U.S. Soccer is trying hard to change the system. But that project is just starting, and it's akin to turning around a supertanker.

In the meantime, the rest of the world's women's teams are rising, and the U.S. will find it increasingly harder to maintain its elite status.

For the men, an encouraging number of young professionals abroad is offset by a sensational generation of Mexican players; Chicharito and Co. have the potential to make U.S. fans miserable for a decade.

That prospect leads to a couple of unsettling observations.

Without Wambach's heroics against Brazil, U.S. Soccer would have been on a grim losing streak. A few more seconds, and the women's worst WC showing ever would have been a dreary cap on a year that featured the men's second consecutive World Cup elimination by Ghana, the doomed bid to host the 2022 event, the failure even to qualify for the U-20 men's World Cup and the thrilling but ultimately crushing Gold Cup loss to El Tri.

With the United States years away from reaping the rewards of its new development initiative, and men's and women's soccer improving around the world, the frustration American fans felt this summer at the conclusion of both the women's World Cup and the Gold Cup might just be foreshadowing.

For the next several years, U.S. fans on both sides of the gender divide may look back at the last three summers -- the 2009 Confederations Cup upset of Spain and near-miss in the final; the dramatic group stage triumph of the 2010 World Cup; and the excitement of this women's World Cup -- as a high-water mark.

More "ski poles," please. And footskills.