Yesterday my co-editor, Leopold Ponce, provided a vivid description of his experience at the World Cup opener for the United States. The accounts he provided immediately took me back to my own experience at the last World Cup that I was able to attend – 2002 in Korea.

Given the next match for the United States in 2014 is against the country they met in the opener in 2002, I thought I’d revisit the past and recount my own experience from that June 5th day.

At the time of the deadline for the ticket lottery for the 2002 World Cup I was actually living in Korea, so looking to get tickets for the USA was a no brainer. I expected that by the time of the World Cup I’d be living in either Singapore or Seoul.

As it turned out, I was transferred to London in late 2001. No matter, though, I had the vacation time and no way I was going to miss the World Cup in Korea so off I went. My then girlfriend, now wife, made the trip to Seoul a bit ahead of me to spend time with family there.

Our drummer in 2002. Credit: Hal Kaiser

The USA was a in a difficult group which was headlined by a Portugal side led by the great Figo. The rest of the group was no slouch, however, with a dangerous Poland team that had dominated qualifying in becoming the first European team to clinch their spot. They were led by a red hot striker, Emmanuel Olisadebe. Lastly, we had the hosts, Korea.

Most pundits expected Portugal to finish first followed by Poland. They grossly underestimated both Korea and the United States. Few on the global stage gave the United States much of a chance coming off of the disaster of 1998.

I was optimistic that the USA would make it to the 2nd round but no further, so I booked a ticket package to follow the USA through that stage and arranged my flight schedule around that.

I arrived in Seoul on June 4th, just in time to watch Korea vs. Poland over dinner outside. Korea’s 2-0 victory immediately electrified the country and sent shock waves through the tournament. It instantly got me extremely fired up for the debut of the USA the following day.

I’d arranged to stay in the apartment of a friend who still lived in Seoul but who was away for a few weeks. He lived in the Itaewon area of town where many expats resided. Today, Itaewon is an area full of hip restaurants, bars and nightclubs. In 2002, it was bit of a cheesy tourist trap with knock off clothes and the like.

Either way, there were bound to be plenty of foreigners around and it was with apprehension that I spotted a large group of Portuguese fans while my girlfriend and I were on our way to the subway to head to Suwon for the match decked out in our red, white and blue best.

Having lived in Europe on several occasions, I was well aware of the animosity that sometimes reared its ugly head between fan groups and feared the worst. I need not have worried, however. These were the post-9/11 pre-Iraq invasion days when America was well liked around the world.

The Portuguese group approached me in a friendly manner. We exchanged handshakes, took pictures with each other and wished both teams the best of luck. The Portuguese offered their condolences over the 9/11 events which I graciously accepted. It was at this point that I realized the mood and experience of this World Cup would be different from 1998 and 1994 which I had also attended.

On the train ride out to the stadium, there were fans from both teams. We all chatted with each other with a nervous energy that increased as we drew closer to the stadium. Once at the stadium, the energy level grew as there was much going on outside.

There were large groups of older Koreans dressed in traditional garb and waving small American flags to greet the U.S. fans. The timing of the tournament for Americans was not great. Not long prior to the tournament some U.S. service men ran over and killed several young Korean girls.

The local population was not happy with the way the event was handled by the military. Consequently, there was a fair bit of anti-American sentiment. The older generation, however, still had vivid memories of the Korean War and always had a positive view of the United States. They made a point of coming out and making the Americans feel welcome.

Given the availability of team based tickets for this World Cup, the American fans were together in groups. Since we bought the lowest priced tickets, we were with the primary Supporter’s Group. In those days, American Outlaws did not exist. We were Uncle Sam’s Army.

The accounts from Natal of an estimated 20,000 fans reflect how far the sport has come in this country. In Suwon Stadium, the total number of Americans was probably several thousand spread out over different seating areas in the stadium. Those of us in Uncle Sam’s Army who would stand and sing the entire match numbered only several hundred.

Most of the several thousand Americans at the match were English teachers or military already in Korea. Those of us who made the long trip to Korea were few and far between.

Despite our numbers, we were loud and passionate. We had our drummers and we had our chants. Much as Leo recounted the Brazilian ushers trying to make the fans in Natal sit, the Korean ushers tried to make us sit. It quickly became clear to them that they had two choices: let us stand or arrest all of us. They let us stand.

Just as quickly, it became obvious that the crowd of 37,000 plus were pro-Portugal. In line with the anti-American sentiment, the Korean public came to cheer for Figo and against the United States.

In a strange way this stoked our passion and fueled our frenzy as it rapidly became an us vs. them kind of a situation. We were ready for the match to begin.

The 2002 men’s team bore some similarities to the current version. In goal was an American stalwart playing in the Premier League, Brad Friedel. There was youth in the form of Landon Donovan and DeMarcus Beasley. Our left back, Frankie Hejduk, had not always been a left back but converted to extend his national team career.

The face on the magazines going into the tournament was another Clint; Clint Mathis. It was expected that he would get a transfer to Europe out of the World Cup, sadly nothing of the sort would happen and he missed the match against Portugal with an injury. There was creative flair in the side with John O’Brien (another sad story) and Claudio Reyna, who also missed the opener – Pablo Mastroeni started in his place.

Some of our group. Credit: Hal Kaiser

Unlike the current team,there was experience in the back with Eddie Pope, Jeff Agoos and Tony Sanneh. Brian McBride was also more of a sure thing up top than what the United States currently has. Captain Earnie Stewart brought experience on the right side of the midfield.

Coming into the match, the consensus view was that Portugal would crush us and our only shot of getting through was to take points off of Poland and Korea. We all had this in the back of our mind at the kick off.

Inside the 4th minute, the unthinkable happened. A corner kick on our end of the pitch (we were behind the goal the US was attacking in the 1st half) found the head of Brian McBride. Portuguese keeper Vitor Baía made the initial save but only pushed it towards O’Brien who left footed it into the back of the net.

I will never forget this goal as long as I live, just as I have never forgotten the Agoos own goal that would come later. There was bedlam in the stands. We were jumping all over each other. I hugged people I’d never met. We were up against one of the favorites for the entire tournament after only 4 minutes.

25 minutes later, bedlam turned to mania. Landon Donovan hit what I still am not sure was a cross or a shot from near the right corner. Jorge Costa deflected it with his head and it somehow beat Baía for an own goal. Donovan’s shocked expression and hands up said it all. We were up 2-0 over Figo and company inside of 30 minutes and had looked the better side.

In the 36th minute, mania turned to hysteria. Sanneh hit a cross from the right corner which was met by a diving header from McBride (had social media existed at the time, McBriding would have become a thing) to put us up 3-0. I think I blanked out at that point. I may have gotten married in the crush of American fans crawling all over each other.

That very moment was the greatest moment of our lives up to that point. We had hoped we might get a point against Portugal. Instead, we were laying waste to the Portuguese by a score of 3-0 in the 1st half. It was more than we could possibly imagine. I think we were all drunk on the magnitude of the moment.

We sobered up pretty quickly, however. Beto put Portugal on the scoreboard in the 39th minute after O’Brien failed to clear Beto’s header off of a Figo corner, instead knocking it straight back to the Portuguese player who drove it home.

All of us in Uncle Sam’s Army nervously looked at each other and reassured ourselves that we still had a two goal lead and would make it through.

In the 71st minute, disaster struck; a harmless cross from Pauleta was driven into the back of the net by Agoos. It was a blunder of the first order and narrowed the lead to one. That it happened just in front of us made it even more miserable.

Now we were really sweating. 29 minutes to go and only a one goal lead. Our early euphoric joy had turned into misery. It was the very definition of squeaky bum time.

We saw it out, though, and when the final whistle was blown, how sweet it was. Hysteria had returned, we had just beaten Portugal to open the World Cup. The players celebrated, we celebrated. The team came over to our corner and as we bowed and paid homage to them, they bowed and paid homage to us.

Our small band was so loud that day that we could be heard over the 30,000+ who were supporting Portugal. The Herald Tribune would write about the unique style of cheering that the American fans brought to the event.

Rather than the traditional football chants, our style was heavily influenced by college basketball. Portugal was met throughout the match with chants like “Overrated”, we came up with Figo chants that now escape my memory.

Still, today, this remains one of the greatest experiences of my life. I don’t remember the names of any of my fellow fans who were there in the stands that day, but the memory of them remains, as do the photographs. We backed our team against a stadium that favored the opposition and against global expectations, and we won.

So, if you ask me can the United States beat Portugal and Germany in this tournament, my answer is “hell yes!”.