Peter Wilt warned me about getting to the Highbury Pub early. And he warned me it would be one of the wildest sports-viewing experiences of my life.
He just left out the part about the beer showers.
See, Landon Donovan had a penalty kick against Ghana on Saturday afternoon. And he just happened to convert it. And all around the Highbury, celebratory hands were thrown into the air.
And those hands, oddly enough, were holding brewskis.
Well, Sir Isaac Newton’s little brainstorm took over from there. What goes up must come down, and it came down everywhere. On the guy wearing the Captain America outfit. On Carl in the Army fatigues. On the replica World Cup trophy that everybody wanted to touch. And yes, on the head of everyone packed into the pub like so many English kippers.
Yeah, Wilt neglected to mention this in his invitation. But we’ll forgive the Milwaukee Wave president and CEO. Not just because he’s Wisconsin’s quintessential soccer ambassador, or because of the American flag draped around his shoulders, or even because he showed a remarkable ability to play the vuvuzela.
No, we’ll forgive Wilt for a far simpler reason: Because some things are worth Heineken in your hair and Miller on your mug.
Now look, I’ve been in some rowdy Milwaukee sports atmospheres. Like when the 2008 Brewers clinched the NL Wild Card. Or when the Bucks brought the playoffs back to the Bradley Center. Or your average, everyday Marquette student section.
But the moment I saw that viral video of a worldwide audience celebrating Donovan’s goal against Algeria, complete with spontaneous “U-S-A” chants, I wanted to find some piece of the passion in Milwaukee.
“It was crazier here,” Wilt boasted of the Highbury’s Algeria reaction. “Crazier than any of those [on the video]. Beer flying in the air. Champagne. Men kissing men. An hour after the game, we broke into an acapella ‘Star Spangled Banner.’ ”
Wilt was recounting this around 11 a.m. Saturday, when Highbury owner Joe Katz put that viral video on a TV to set the patriotic mood. By then, I’d already been at the Highbury for some three hours, and I didn’t dare run home for a poncho to guard against Wilt’s forecast of beer showers. Because I suddenly owned some exceedingly valuable real estate.
A chair to sit in, right at the bar.
No way I’d get the seat back if I left. Heck, I might not even have gotten back into the bar. Because Katz yelled to everyone that they’d reached capacity at 11:48 a.m. For a 1:30 p.m. kickoff.
So I stayed as the last stragglers of the standing room only crowd filed in. And listened to the “Tim-mee How-ward” chants whenever the TV showed the U.S. goalie’s image. And smiled at the impromptu singing of “When the Yanks Go Marching In.” And giggled when bartenders Robyn and Alessia discussed that replica of the World Cup.
Alessia: “Is it made out of chocolate?”
Robyn: “How awesome would that be if it was made out of chocolate?”
Sorry, ladies. No chocolate. Just gold-painted metal that cost Highbury regular Colin Deval $100.
That didn’t stop patrons from caressing the faux Cup like the belly of a Buddha whenever they came near. Hoping for some good U.S. karma, I figured.
Well, so much for that. Because when the game finally started, it took all of four minutes for Ghana to score.
And judging by the photographic evidence, we didn’t care for that too much at the Highbury.
Still, the songs kept coming and vuvuzelas kept honking and the beer kept flowing. And then, in the 62nd minute, Donovan banged home the penalty, and we struck gold.
I saw no men kissing men, though the guy seated next to me, a friendly fellow named Alan, did give me a one arm hug. The deafening cheers seemed to last forever. Bartenders slapped enough high fives to leave their hands sore for a week. Surely, the U.S. was on its way to victory.
Only it wasn’t meant to be. You know by now that Ghana beat the Yanks 2-1 in extra time. You’ve heard that the U.S. should’ve won, and you’ve heard why it lost. Bob Bradley sent out the wrong lineup and had to correct things on the fly. The defense wasn’t up to snuff and too many goal-scoring opportunities were wasted. And a golden opportunity to make a deep World Cup run was left unclaimed.
But as the long faces slowly headed out onto the Milwaukee streets, one thing kept running through my mind.
I’d have to do it again. And four years wasn’t too long to wait for the replay.
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