INGLEWOOD, Calif. — Sometimes you don't fully appreciate one team until you watch another.
I was sitting in the press box at SoFi Stadium on Thursday afternoon watching Spain dismantle Austria, 3-0, in the Round of 32 when it hit me.
The score lied.
Spain should have won 6-0.
They were that dominant.
Every pass had purpose. Every run looked choreographed. Every attack felt inevitable. Austria wasn't playing poorly. They were simply playing a different sport than the one Spain was playing.
As I watched Lamine Yamal glide past defenders and wave after wave of Spanish attackers arrive seemingly out of nowhere, one thought kept coming back to me.
I might be watching the team that's about to win the World Cup.
And that's OK.
Because that's when I stopped thinking about whether the United States could win this tournament and started appreciating what they've already accomplished.
Earlier in the tournament, former U.S. goalkeeper Tim Howard had made headlines by saying, "The U.S. cannot, unequivocally, win the World Cup."
Some American fans rolled their eyes. Others called him negative. Sitting there watching Spain, I found myself nodding. Not because I don't believe in this U.S. team, but because I finally understood the difference between a team that's playing outstanding soccer and one that's operating at a level almost nobody else in the world can reach.
There's nothing wrong with that.
In fact, it made me appreciate this American team even more.
One of the worst things we've done to sports is convince ourselves that every great story has to end with a championship. A team wins a big game and, within minutes, the conversation isn't about what just happened. It's about whether they can win the next game, then the one after that, and eventually the championship. We fast-forward through the best parts because we're always searching for the ending.
That's exactly what's happening with the United States men's national team.
After the Americans dismantled Paraguay, 4-1, in the World Cup opener at SoFi Stadium, the conversation immediately shifted from what had just been one of the most impressive performances in U.S. soccer history to one question: Can the United States win the World Cup?
The questions only grew louder after the Americans beat Australia, 2-0, in Seattle to clinch Group D after just two matches. Suddenly, everyone was filling out knockout brackets, talking about semifinal scenarios and wondering whether this was finally the American team that could shock the world.
Maybe.
But maybe we're missing the point.
This tournament has already been special.
For the first time since 1930, when the World Cup was an entirely different competition than the global spectacle it has become today, the United States won consecutive World Cup matches. They were so convincing through the first two games that the third match against Türkiye essentially became an exhibition. Mauricio Pochettino rested several key players, gave reserves valuable minutes and still nearly won the match.
Then came the Round of 32 against Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The 2-0 victory wasn't just another step forward. It was history. It gave the United States only its second World Cup knockout-round victory in the modern era. The Americans reached the semifinals in the inaugural tournament in 1930 by winning their group and then defeated Mexico in the Round of 16 in 2002. That's the entire list.
The victory also snapped a 10-match winless streak against European opponents at the World Cup dating back to a draw against England in Qatar four years ago. It was the Americans' first World Cup victory over a European nation since beating Portugal in 2002. For more than two decades, every opportunity against Europe had ended in frustration, including the unforgettable extra-time loss to Belgium in the Round of 16 in Brazil in 2014.
That alone should be enough to celebrate.
Instead, the conversation quickly became about what comes next.
Can they beat Belgium?
Can they beat Spain?
Can they make the semifinals?
Can they actually win the World Cup?
I've covered enough sports to know where these conversations usually lead. We raise expectations so high that anything short of a championship somehow becomes a disappointment. We do it every year with the Dodgers. We do it with the Lakers. We do it with USC football. We are conditioned to believe that if a team is playing well, the only acceptable ending is a parade.
The World Cup doesn't work that way.
The FIFA rankings exist for a reason. The United States entered this tournament ranked No. 16 in the world. They're now one of the final 16 teams left standing. That shouldn't surprise anyone. Paraguay is ranked No. 34. Australia is No. 28. Türkiye is No. 27. Bosnia and Herzegovina is No. 61. Those are all quality opponents, but they are also teams the United States should expect to compete with and, more often than not, beat.
Now comes Belgium.
The Belgians are ranked No. 9 in the world. They are the first Top-25 opponent the Americans have faced in this tournament. Former U.S. coach Bruce Arena called Belgium "their first real test in this World Cup."
That isn't dismissing what the Americans have accomplished. If anything, it's acknowledging that they've taken care of business against the teams they were supposed to beat. Good teams are supposed to do that.
The problem isn't that people believe the United States can beat Belgium. They absolutely can. The problem is that many have convinced themselves that if they beat Belgium, they can beat Spain. Then France. Then Argentina or Brazil. Four of the greatest games in American soccer history, in a row.
That's a different conversation.
Spain entered this World Cup as one of the favorites for a reason. They have Lamine Yamal, who is already making a legitimate case as the best player in the world. They have Rodri, the reigning Ballon d'Or winner. They have wave after wave of young talent that would start for just about every national team on the planet.
Then there's France. Then Argentina or Brazil. Those aren't just great teams. Those are football factories that have spent generations producing world-class players.
Howard put it bluntly.
"The U.S. cannot, unequivocally, win the World Cup," Howard said. "The U.S. will have to play the greatest game they've ever played... four games in a row. Round of 16, quarterfinals, semifinals, finals. It's literally impossible for the U.S. to win the World Cup. That's just the reality."
Some people heard negativity.
I heard honesty.
There's nothing wrong with acknowledging how difficult the task is. In fact, it makes what this team has already accomplished even more impressive. We don't have to pretend the United States is Spain to appreciate what the Americans have become.
If the United States beats Belgium in Seattle on Monday in what will almost certainly be the largest television audience ever for a soccer match in this country, celebrate it like they won the World Cup.
Seriously.
Don't spend the postgame asking about Spain. Don't open your bracket. Don't immediately start calculating semifinal scenarios. Stand up. Cheer. Call your friends. Stay up too late. Let yourself enjoy it.
If the reward is a quarterfinal against Spain at SoFi Stadium, dream as big as you want. Sports are supposed to be about hope. Upsets happen. Miracles happen. That's why we watch.
Just don't lose sight of what's already happening because you're too busy worrying about what happens next.
This tournament has already changed how people view this team. Mauricio Pochettino has given the Americans an identity. They've played with confidence instead of fear. They've embraced expectations instead of running from them. More importantly, they've made people care.
That might end up being the biggest victory of this entire tournament.
In the United States, soccer still isn't one of our five biggest sports. That's just reality. But for the past three weeks, the USMNT has captured the country's attention in a way we haven't seen in years. They've become appointment television. They've become a national conversation.
This team may not win the World Cup.
That's not an insult. It's reality.
But what this group has already done is remind a country that soccer matters here. They've given American fans memories they'll be talking about long after this tournament is over.
And if they beat Belgium on Monday, don't immediately ask if they can beat Spain.
Stand up.
Cheer.
Soak it in.
Because one day you'll realize these were the moments you'll remember most—not because they ended with a trophy, but because they reminded you why you fell in love with sports in the first place.