This Is American Soccer, US Soccer, MNT, WNT, and MLS - Tackling the subject of Soccer in the US, and worldwide.

Discovered at the age of 10 in New York. In an elite American residency program in Pennsylvania at age 11. Three seasons at FC Metz youth academy in France at 13. A year in Italy as an amateur on AS Livorno’s reserves at 17, followed by a spell in Scotland at St. Mirren.

A soccer vagabond by the age of 19, Devann Yao is now back home in New York, and that’s where he wants to stay. What’s a kid got to do get a little attention around here? Click HERE for the full story…

U.S. 2, MEXICO 0. AND NOW MILES TO GO BEFORE I SLEEP

The wind was angry that night my friends, the only real surprise to a script (and score) U.S. Soccer has written before. Both countries added roughly the same ingredients, but only the U.S. looked to stir it up, even holding the ball better than anytime in recent memory.

Two goals and strong midfield play didn’t seal player of the match for young Bradley. It was the kind of night where nearly everything went right. There were a few breakdowns and Coach Bradley made the obvious subs–Ching wore out and Kljestan added less than his best. Given the opponent, I’d only ask for Torres instead of Clark, but the newfound possession game alone left fans with joker smiles after the game. “We might have turned a corner tonight,” one fan mused.

And god love Tim Howard

photo story after the jump…

Click HERE for the full story…

There is always something beyond the immediate. After every win there is a loss. Even when you win the championship, eventually you fall. That’s life. But try telling that to a team of high school boys celebrating their day in the bright ligts of the big city after bringing home yet another title to Martin Luther King high school.

So after what was proclaimed MLK Soccer Appreciation Day Coach Martin Jacobson crammed a whole life into a single soccer season. “Like life,” he said. “it’s the end that counts. And we ended up pretty well.” Click HERE for the full story…

So you think you can be a professional soccer player?

Keyvan Heydari thought he could too. Almost did. Now some 20 years after he first tried, after he covered six World Cups (starting with Mexico 1986) as a journalist and broadcaster, after he contributed to outlets such as NPR, The Miami Herald/El Nuevo Herald, The Washington Post, L’Equipe, La Gazzetta dello Sport, Paris Match, Univision, ESPN, Gol TV and Telemundo, not to mention a couple of soccer books published in Italy… he wants another shot.

After the jump, Heydari delivers part 3 of his exclusive dispatches from a place where, yes, even a 45-year-old has a chance to live the dream. Click HERE for the full story…

(this is all five parts of the story in its entirety)

Ron Isley croons from the stereo of the Audi A6 Quattro Clint Dempsey purchased from sports agency-mate Ryan Nelsen. “You fool one day you’re here and then you’re gone.” But before the beat drops, before UGK’s Pimp C and Bun B have a chance to trade verses about making the most of the Texas youth they were dealt, before we’re even out of the parking lot of Dempsey’s apartment, we’re out of the car.

Across the street private preparatory school blazers are tossed to the sidewalk; tiny fists on fragile arms flail like loose garden hoses. “What the…. Should we break up that fight?” Dempsey asks without a glance to me, his big black eyes fixated on the fracas as if he already has his answer. “Sure, your town your call,” I tell him beginning to crack open the passenger seat door. We jump out of the car stopping traffic on the bustling two-lane road in London’s Wimbledon neighborhood. The dozen kids, no older than 12 maybe 13, turn toward us as we approach, taking notice of the bigger boys calling out, “Hey, what are you….”

Click HERE for the full story…

PART 3

Lance Dempsey now coaches soccer in North Carolina. Seeing the game from the other side of the sidelines gave him a new respect for the work his older brother put in. “My parents sacrificed a lot,” he tells me. “But I don’t want it to sound like something crazy, like we were homeless, like Clint was the focus of the family. My parents did what any good parents would do. They helped all of us. Clint put in a lot of work.”

That work began as is typical among siblings, with the younger brother trying to keep up with his older brother. Ryan, now 30, has five years on Clint, whose feet were firmly placed in the elder’s footprints at a very young age. The boys took to the free form and constant flow of soccer over the traditional family favorites, football and baseball. The Dempseys weren’t initially a soccer family and Nacogdoches didn’t have anything similar to a club team. The boys played pick-up games in their largely Hispanic neighborhood, learning from their peers without coaching or structure. They ran through the house and school hallways with their favorite soccer jerseys on.

Click HERE for the full story…

PART 2

A talented tennis player, Jennifer Dempsey ranked in the top two at Nacogdoches High School. Her athletic pursuits begged for more attention, and being a family of limited means, younger brother Clint, 13 at the time, was forced to put his soccer development on the backburner after three years of family sacrifice supported his pay-to-play club needs. It was only fair; Clint is one of five children (younger than Ryan, Jennifer, and Crystal; and older than Lance) and was by no means the only child in the family with sporting aspirations.

Click HERE for the full story…

PART 1

Ron Isley croons from the stereo of the Audi A6 Quattro Clint Dempsey purchased from sports agency-mate Ryan Nelson. “You fool one day you’re here and then you’re gone.” But before the beat drops, before UGK’s Pimp C and Bun B have a chance to trade verses about making the most of the Texas youth they were dealt, before we’re even out of the parking lot of Dempsey’s apartment, we’re out of the car.

Across the street private preparatory school blazers tossed to the sidewalk, tiny fists on fragile arms flail like loose garden hoses. “What the…. Should we break up that fight?” Dempsey asks without a glance to me, his big black eyes fixated on the fracas as if he already has his answer. “Sure, your town your call,” I tell him beginning to crack open the passenger seat door. We jump out of the car stopping traffic on the bustling two-lane road in London’s Wimbledon neighborhood. The dozen kids, no older than 12 maybe 13, turn toward us as we approach, taking notice of the bigger boys calling out, “Hey, what are you….”

Click HERE for the full story…

The Charleston Battery defeated the Seattle Sounders on penalty kicks Tuesday to advance to the Open Cup Finals against D.C. United, who beat the New England Revolution 2-1 in their half of the semi-finals. TIAS traveled to Battery’s Blackbaud Stadium to take in the historic victory along with a crowd greatly thinned by rain. Photos and commentary from the deep south after the jump. Click HERE for the full story…

Looking at Giants Stadium at less than even half capacity, well, just the idea that it can sell-out is a grand testament to American sports and marketing. Of course the 80,000 seats are but a drop in the tri-state population bucket and it routinely fills up. Just not for soccer.

“I thought there would be more people here,” the usher said in my favorite mezzanine section, the one that is typically mine alone for Red Bull home games. “Last year it was almost full.” Ninety minutes, an hour, a half hour before the game and the stands were spotty at best, but my preferred section was actually nearly full. This was after all Barcelona. Right? Click HERE for the full story…