Biggest week in American men's soccer history is here as USMNT rides World Cup Wave

SANTA CLARA, Calif. -- Americans gathered last week in New York and Los Angeles; in Chicago and Atlanta; in Missoula, Montana, and Brownsville, Texas; in blocked-off streets and public squares, to witness a moment without precedent.

They gathered for the first prime-time World Cup knockout game in U.S. men’s soccer history. They met at bars and fan festivals. They sank into seats at stadiums or auditoriums. They stood on Pratt Street in downtown Hartford, Connecticut, and at The Railyard in Lincoln, Nebraska, or in their living rooms, anticipating something that the United States had never experienced before.

And at 9:47 p.m. Wednesday in Washington, D.C.; 8:47 in Nashville, Tennessee; 7:47 in Durango, Colorado; and 6:47 in Redding, California, they experienced it.

They erupted as the United States beat Bosnia and Herzegovina in the World Cup’s round of 32. And they knew, as they drifted off to sleep or off into a festive night, that something even grander was suddenly on the horizon.

This, beginning Wednesday, across the Fourth of July weekend and culminating Monday in the round of 16 against Belgium, has been the biggest, giddiest, most impactful week in American men’s soccer history.

The U.S. men have, in a way, been here before. They reached the round of 16 at five previous World Cups, when that round was the first of the knockout stage.

In 2002, they upset Mexico and marched into the quarterfinals. But that game kicked off at 3:30 p.m. in Jeonju, South Korea, which was 2:30 a.m. Eastern. Relatively few U.S. fans watched it on Univision or ESPN2. Many who did stay up or set alarms were fans of the Mexican national team, and were conflicted or even gutted by the 2-0 defeat. Most of America awoke Monday, June 17, 2002, unaware that the game had even happened.

There was no social media at the time, no shared experience, no revelry after the first World Cup knockout win in U.S. men’s soccer history.

Now, there is countrywide camaraderie and glee, mainstream momentum like never before.

“My friends are going crazy right now,” U.S. midfielder Tyler Adams said. “They’re enjoying the moment, that’s for sure.”

And that is why Monday, July 6, 2026, will be without precedent.

In many ways, Wednesday, July 1, 2026, already was. Yes, it was only Bosnia and Herzegovina. And yes, it was only the round of 32. Sure, the World Cup’s expansion helped enable it.

But hardly anyone thought about that on the National Mall or at neighborhood pools, at McGregor Square in Denver or the Brass Monkey in Providence, Rhode Island.

They gathered at San Pedro Square in San José, California, and at the local theater in Ottawa, Kansas. They gathered at the American Dream mall in East Rutherford, New Jersey, and in football towns across Texas. They gathered at a soccer stadium in Boise, Idaho, and at a baseball stadium in Hoover, Alabama, not far from where U.S. defender Chris Richards was born and raised.

“That’s been really cool,” Richards said last week, “to see everybody coming out and supporting, regardless of if they watched us before this World Cup or not. It’s cool that we’ve turned a few people into fans.”

They gathered around TVs in apartments and basements, at dimly lit pubs or friends’ homes. They gathered at the Power and Light District in downtown Kansas City, Missouri, and at the Amsterdam Tavern in St. Louis. They gathered with hope abundant, just as some had before.

Some had celebrated with Landon Donovan in 2010, with Clint Dempsey in 2014, with Christian Pulisic in 2022. They had watched three group-stage wins over the past two decades. But then, when they flocked to pubs and downtown plazas on a Saturday afternoon in 2010, when they dipped out of work or raced home from summer camp on a Tuesday in 2014, and when they set weekend-morning alarms in 2022, they ultimately felt foolish or let down.

They watched a scrappy U.S. team succumb to Ghana. They watched a striker miss a life-changing chance against Belgium. They watched optimism fizzle out against the Netherlands four years ago.

They rued those missed opportunities. Fans convinced themselves that progress was being made, but every time they gathered to celebrate proof of that progress, they trudged home with shoulders slumped. They pondered the state of American men’s soccer after yet another four years without a landmark knockout-round win.

On Wednesday, finally, they got it.

On Wednesday, 68,827 fans came to Levi’s Stadium in the Bay Area. Tens of millions more watched from afar. They watched on airplanes, on smartphones during evening commutes or during dinner. They watched at Lemon Hill in Philadelphia, at The Station in Jackson, Mississippi, on massive projector screens or on laptops. Kids pleaded with parents to stay up past bedtimes.

“It’s just incredible to have the fans and the country on this road and journey with us,” U.S. captain Tim Ream said. “Seeing everybody talking about, ‘Oh, my son’s now picking up a soccer ball for the first time, and he’s taking it to a restaurant, or he’s out in the park … it’s those moments that are the most special.”

And that is why this feels different.

Fans all across this vast country, young and old, new and seasoned, jingoistic and reticent, watched Folarin Balogun score and celebrate with LeBron James’ “Silencer.” They then watched him receive a red card, and even if they didn’t know soccer’s rules, they fumed. When they learned that he might miss the round of 16, they howled. (His one-game red-card ban has since been suspended.)

But they did not despair, because they watched a win to savor. And because they could not help but dream that this is still only the beginning.

Attention has turned to Belgium, to a pedigreed European power, to a round-of-16 game on the back end of a holiday weekend, to the type of match the U.S. men’s national team seemingly never wins but one that everyone now believes it can win.

That match will also kick off at 8 p.m. Eastern, 5 p.m. local time in Seattle, a city that has already feted and lifted the American men. Everyone who gathered Wednesday, and likely millions more, will gather again.

They are convinced that the United States can get to a World Cup quarterfinal, that players can inspire the people, that this team can elevate its sport to new heights, or “grow the game,” as Adams said.

“And hopefully,” Richards said, “we can make some more history.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

Copyright 2026 The New York Times Company

This story was originally published July 5, 2026 at 2:50 PM.