USA! USA! USA!

I wrote a story for the paper tonight after the game, so I figured I'd just post that here:

JOHANNESBURG, South Africa - American fans screamed and hugged each other like we were at a family reunion. Maurice Edu knocked a game-winning third goal into the net with only minutes to go as the United States looked poised to defeat Slovenia in its second game of the World Cup.

Or not.

Elation turned to heartbreak.

The referee called off the go-ahead goal, and now instead of being united by joy, U.S. fans were united by anger.

I left the stadium feeling a little cheated. The United States was robbed of a win, and all that remained was the mushy indifference of a draw. I traveled around the globe for this? A draw?

It was the greatest game I've ever been to.

My husband and I traveled to South Africa to visit family and attend the World Cup. It's the first time the international soccer tournament has been hosted on African soil, and it's a great source of pride for South Africans and the rest of the continent.

The nation is overrun with visitors from around the globe. Even travelers at the airport break into spontaneous cheering and chanting. Street vendors dodge in and out of traffic, hocking flags and silly hats to World Cup fans.

The sound of vuvuzelas never stops. The plastic horns are commonplace at South African soccer matches, and visitors snatch them up with delight. The horns can be heard everywhere - the mall, in morning traffic, outside of bars. And, of course, they blare continuously during games - for bad calls, for good calls, for goals, for misses, for fouls. The only time they're quiet is during national anthems.

We parked in the official lot about a mile and a half from the stadium. A police officer asked if we had paid for the parking yet. We hadn't; we thought it was free. She asked us for the South African equivalent of about $7. I'm pretty sure this was a bribe. Nevertheless, $7 isn't too bad for parking at any sports event.

We walked through the neighborhoods around Ellis Park, the stadium where the United States took on Slovenia on Friday night. The smell of charcoal hung in the air.Residents charred boerewors sausages on home grills to sell to fans. A young Muslim girl offered sweet koeksister rolls and other halaal-prepared foods to passersby. Women in frilly aprons grilled whole chickens. Supporters of a daycare sold soda and liquor in miniature bottles as a fundraiser.

Entrepreneurs made money by painting faces or selling vuvuzelas or cheap scarves. They drew customer's attention by chanting USA over and over. Nearly all of the fans streaming to the stadium were U.S. supporters. But that would be expected. Slovenia has a population of only about 2 million; Oklahoma has about 3.7 million.

A group of young children held up a sign: USE ROCK. They giggled and waved at us and the rest of the fans who walked down their street. "You're right!" one U.S. supporter said to them. "The USA does rock. Do you guys want some chewing gum?" Then I understood their sign.

We arrived at the stadium in time to see the teams walk out of the tunnel and stand for the national anthem. I sang loudly. American flags waved throughout the stadium, and the crowd erupted after the song.

The first half of the game was terrible for the American side; Slovenia was ahead 2-0 at the half. The outlook seemed bleak, and I'd resigned myself to an upset.

But when the Yanks returned to the pitch, Landon Donovan scored in the 48th minute.

I've seen plenty of football and basketball games. I've seen soccer before. But nothing can compare to a World Cup goal. When Donovan scored, my husband and I cheered and hugged. We started hugging strangers. Everyone around us jumped and waved their flags and blew their vuvuzelas.

Patriotism welled up inside me. I felt the urge to sing "God Bless America" or vote or put patriotic bumper stickers on my car. I actually almost cried, and I'm not even a soccer expert.

The second goal, scored by Michael Bradley in the 82nd minute, was nothing less than thrilling. The game was tied and every possession after drew cheers and moans. The couple from Texas sitting in front of us grabbed their red, white and blue top hats out of fear. The father and son from Tennessee next to them never sat down. With this momentum, a win seemed within reach.

When Edu tapped the third goal in, the whole experience became surreal. The American fans hugged everyone within reach, like living in Oklahoma and Tennessee made us next-door neighbors. We were witness to a spectacular comeback, and this was the place to celebrate. But the fans weren't finished cheering when reality rippled through the stands.

The goal didn't count.

Our euphoria fizzled. There was lots of swearing.

The call was unfortunate - at the time it seemed tragic - but that's what happens in sports. Calls go for your team and against it. The whole mess wouldn't have been an issue if the U.S. team participated in the first half, instead of just waiting for Slovenia to roll over. I was a little angry with the team. I felt let down.

But to be honest, the game and the score was only a part of the experience. We saw a high-scoring game. We saw an amazing comeback. We sat five rows up from the field, close enough to see how truly humongous Jozy Altidore actually is. I felt proud of my country, proud of where I'm from. I met people from across America.

Seeing a World Cup goal will be something I never forget. I'll take a draw.