We’re not playing in Russia this summer.
(You’re probably asking what country I’m referring to but seeing that I’m neither Dutch nor Italian, let’s stay Stateside).
The time for crying and fabricating of boycotts is over. It’s been over. Michael Bradley and Jozy Altidore are my sworn footballing enemies. Cool. But there’s more at stake now.
It was on full display in Cary, NC on 27/3/18. He wore number 4 and was the direct reason why the USMNT earned a “friendly” victory over a mostly uninterested Paraguayan side that evening.
Forget the excellent distribution from Steffen, or the beautiful 50-yard through ball from Marky Delgado. Tyler Adams kept running, and running, AND RUNNING until he was clear in behind the backline of the visitors.
Sure his first touch was heavy but the ensuing move to get tripped up in the box by Gatito Fernández was more than enough to earn a PK.
And I fell in love.
Forget about MOTM Will Trapp filling in all the necessary gaps as a proper CDM should, (which allowed Adams to roam box-to-box for 90 mns), the unrelenting motor of the NYRB product was what caught my eye that evening.
I wanted to boycott this team. Wanted to root against years of going hoarse in front of tv’s across the Mid-Atlantic encouraging the gentlemen in the Stars & Stripes.
I was wrong. Tyler Adams showed me the way. Gave me hope.
I have no statistical evidence or relevance for you to support my belief that Adams was the best player on the pitch in Cary, NC. But the image of him getting stuck-in time after time after time again was everything I’ve ever wanted from a USMNT CM.
Heart. Passion. Grit.
Everything Bradley no longer has. Put some RESPECK on RBNY and especially on the name of Tyler Adams. The future of the USMNT.