The goal itself was not spectacular, beyond the stage it happened on, the team it happened against and the back story of the man who scored it: When the United States opened their 2010 World Cup against England, the match didn’t begin well. The Americans gave up a goal within five minutes. But then, later on, a messy bit of magic occurred.

About 25 yards from goal, the veteran attacking midfielder Clint Dempsey slung a powerful strike. The ball skipped violently along the wet grass, flicking up droplets as it sped toward the English goalkeeper, ricocheted off his surprised hands and lurched into the goal.

The game ended in a 1-1 draw, but by humbling the British, Dempsey’s goal has gone down as one of the great moments in Yankee soccer. It was a mistake of goalkeeping, to be sure. But such a simple description would also strip the goal of what truly made it: how Dempsey whipped around England’s captain Steven Gerrard in one direction and then another (almost like a spin move in basketball) before finding a small pasture of green from which to shoot — it was all in Clint Dempsey’s awkward, unlikely way of finding space for himself.

His presence on the world stage was always unlikely: To witness his malleable athleticism in that 2010 moment was to also catch a glimpse of an American soccer that has only existed in short spurts and that could be more broadly unleashed if guys like Dempsey were the norm in years to come. Guys who did not come from a traditional soccer background, laced with suburban amenities and paths cobbled by upper-middle-class privilege. With the United States left out of the World Cup, it seems more self-defeating than ever that this small social strata is the class that America’s elite soccer system caters to best at the expense of millions who, if given an equal opportunity, could excel.