At long last the United States had decided to play the world’s game again. And the league was slow going at the beginning. In fact it technically died at one point in 2001. But slowly and surely MLS plugged along. And sure, there were mistakes along the way. Clocks counting down, penalties after tied league games, absurd penalties that seem awesome at first until you realize they were perfectly designed to break legs. But yet the league grew, slowly and carefully. And MLS teams started winning CONCACAF regional tournaments. And young American stars moved from MLS to Europe where they played in goal for some of the biggest teams in England and set Dutch goal scoring records. The tide was starting to turn, America was starting, ever so slowly, to get good at the world’s game.

And here in Cincinnati, it was a lot of fun to watch. World Cup watch parties, early morning brunch with a Guinness to watch the English Premier League, and paying for MLS live to watch MLS games on the west coast at 11pm. Not to say there weren’t naysayers. There is a certain variety of American sports fan that considers hating soccer to be their favorite sport. Having to be the “soccer guy” at family gatherings or hanging out with friends, you started doubt if soccer could ever catch on. Let me tell you, when you have to convince people that something is actually very popular, you’ve already lost. Having ESPN sportscasters butcher players and team's names is a fun reminder that huge swaths of sports-people couldn’t care less about this sport.

But it was hard to not feel like an outsider to other fans of the sport as well. Having American soccer fans tell you they’re not a fan of the American national team or people who laughed at the idea of going to an MLS match and would rather watch an English team play on TV. Watching other teams in other countries and other cities felt like I was watching other people enjoy the game that I love. I was happy to be a part of it in the small way that I could, but before 2016, it was hard to not feel like an outsider to the sport and to the world here in Cincinnati.

Then along came FC Cincinnati. A club I could call my own. When this team was first announced, Jeff Berding said he wanted this team to go to MLS. And I laughed. Cincinnati doesn’t get nice things. It certainly doesn’t get to feel good about sports. Hearing FCC would be playing in Nippert felt like the little brother trying to be cool and wearing his big brother's clothes, too big and looked a little silly. But then the fans showed up. And packed the house from day one. Carl Lindner and Jeff Berding managed to snag John Harkes as our first manager. Local heroes Austin Berry and Omar Cummings signed on. And all of a sudden FC Cincinnati was being taken seriously. This was a club that had staying power. Playing in a league that originally allowed 5 subs a game, FC Cincinnati grew up from a minor league operation that thought throwing chalk in your face was a good idea, into the bell of the ball. Cincinnati was playing the world’s game. Crystal Palace came to our small corner of the globe, a London team we had only seen on TV, until FC Cincinnati came along. And 35,000 fans showed up. And the world took notice.

And in 2017 we here in Cincinnati learned a little bit more about the beautiful game, and fans were introduced to the U.S. Open Cup. And while I can write all day and night about how magical, and frankly important, that run in the tournament really was for our city, I am just going to link to the video I took at the end of the shootout with Chicago Fire. See if you can find the moment when Cincinnati finally came out on the right side of a sporting moment: