Watching the recent major tournament performance of the US men’s football team, I couldn’t help but draw a parallel to a quote I came across recently—something a mixed martial artist said before a big fight: “I haven’t seen her face a true grappler, or a wrestler. It’s always a striker which allows her to dominate on the ground. In this fight, I’d like to prove that I’m a better grappler.” That statement, oddly enough, captures exactly where I think US men’s football stands right now. For years, we’ve been the “striker” in global football—flashy, fast, and exciting in moments, but often exposed when facing teams with deeper technical and tactical foundations. We’ve relied on athleticism and moments of brilliance, but the real question is, what happens when we step into the ring with the world’s elite grapplers?
Let’s be honest—our performance in the last tournament was a mixed bag. We showed sparks of promise, no doubt. Reaching the knockout stages felt like progress, especially with a squad whose average age hovered around 24. But then came the reality check: a 3-1 loss to the Netherlands, a team that didn’t outrun us but simply outthought us. I remember watching that match and thinking, this is the difference between a team that knows how to control the game and one that’s still learning. Our midfield, for all its energy, lacked the composure to break down organized defensive setups. We completed just 78% of our passes in the final third, compared to the Dutch side’s 85%. That’s not a fitness gap—it’s a technical and tactical one.
I’ve followed this team for over two decades, through highs and plenty of lows, and what strikes me now is that we’re at a pivotal moment. We’ve produced individual talents who can compete at the highest level—players like Christian Pulisic, Weston McKennie, and Tyler Adams are proof of that. But football isn’t about individuals; it’s about systems. And right now, our system feels incomplete. We don’t yet have a clear footballing identity, not in the way Spain or Germany does. We play reactive football too often, waiting for opponents to make mistakes rather than imposing our style. That’s fine against teams that let us run, but against the disciplined “grapplers” of international football, we struggle.
One area where this is glaringly obvious is player development. Look at the numbers: only about 35% of MLS minutes go to American players under the age of 23. Compare that to the Bundesliga, where that figure is closer to 50%. We’re not giving our young talents enough high-level reps, and it shows when they step onto the international stage. I’ve spoken with academy coaches who say we focus too much on physical attributes early on—speed, strength—and not enough on decision-making and technical nuance. We’re creating athletes, not footballers. That has to change if we want to close the gap with top-tier nations.
Tactically, there’s work to do as well. Under Gregg Berhalter, we’ve seen a preference for a high-press, transition-based style. It’s exciting when it works, but it’s also predictable. Against teams that sit deep and play through pressure, we often look clueless. I remember a friendly against Japan last year where we had 60% possession but created only two clear chances. We dominated the ball but didn’t know what to do with it. That’s a coaching issue, but it’s also a cultural one. We need to develop players who are comfortable in possession, who can play in tight spaces and under pressure. Right now, too many of our players look rushed when they have time on the ball.
Financially, the resources are there. Major League Soccer is growing, and more American owners are investing in European clubs, which should, in theory, help bridge the gap. But money alone won’t solve our problems. We need a unified vision from the youth level all the way up to the senior team. Countries like Belgium and Croatia have shown what’s possible with a coherent long-term plan. We’re still too fragmented, with different leagues and academies pulling in separate directions. I’d love to see U.S. Soccer take a stronger lead here, maybe even mandate a style of play for youth national teams to build consistency.
Looking ahead, the 2026 World Cup on home soil is both an opportunity and a potential trap. The pressure will be immense, and if we’re not careful, we could repeat the mistakes of past host nations who underperformed. But I’m optimistic. We have a golden generation coming through—players like Gio Reyna, Yunus Musah, and Ricardo Pepi have world-class potential. If we can develop them properly and build a system that maximizes their strengths, we could surprise a lot of people. Personally, I’d love to see us adopt a more possession-oriented approach, but I know that’s easier said than done. It requires patience, and American sports culture isn’t always known for that.
In the end, it comes down to this: we’ve proven we can compete with the strikers of the world. Now it’s time to show we can grapple with the best. That means developing a smarter, more adaptable style of play, investing in technical development, and building a cohesive identity. It won’t happen overnight, but the foundation is there. If we get this right, the next decade could be the most exciting in the history of US men’s football. And as a fan, I can’t wait to see it unfold.