Dave Chamberlain

What were you doing when you were twenty?

Some of us were in college, slowly preparing to "take the next step" and join life's rat race. Some of us were already working full-time jobs. Others already had children.

What most of us were not doing, however, was playing a professional sport--for a living--and then taking those skills to a world stage. What most of us were not doing, was being noticed by more than two billion people . And most of us were not defending our country's honor before the world in the one arena where America does not openly crown itself king: soccer, or as the rest of the pesky planet insists on logically calling it, football.

For your consideration, Mr. Damarcus Beasley.

At the age of 5, Beasley's father brought home a soccer ball. There wasn't any grand intention behind the gift; it was just the type of thing a father does for his sons. "It was nothing special," says Beasley. "I have no background of anybody playing soccer. I don't know why, but my dad brought home a soccer ball for my brother Jamar--he's older than I am--and as a younger brother looking up to what he did, I played with him. We kept training and practicing, and I just fell in love with it."

Eleven years later, Beasley--having already played in international youth tournaments on almost half the world's continents--was drafted by the Los Angeles Galaxy, a Major League Soccer (MLS) team. The Galaxy, already loaded with midfielders, needed a defender. The Chicago Fire, already loaded with defenders, needed a midfielder. A trade was worked out, and at the age of 16, Damarcus Beasley officially became a member of the Chicago Fire--not bad for a junior in high school, and not bad for a kid from Fort Wayne, Indiana. Of course, it was a goal he'd already been working toward. "Around thirteen or fourteen I knew I wanted to be a professional soccer player, I wanted to make it my career. I wanted to go to college to play soccer, go to high school and play soccer."

It was a goal shared by his brother, and one they both seemed destined to achieve. "In high school," says Beasley, "we were the top two players. Everybody would put four guys on my brother--he was older, so he was more known--but he'd get four defenders on him, I'd get three. It would be that bad. He played forward, I played midfield, and other teams would just pack it in. It was hard." Damarcus is still following in his older brother's footsteps; Jamar had stints playing for MLS teams in Chicago and New England, before signing with a Serie C (third division) team in Italy this year.

Also like Jamar, Damarcus isn't done fulfilling his dreams. "Right now my aspiration is to go overseas. It's no secret. Everybody knows it. And they all know it's just a matter of time for it to happen. Hopefully it will happen sooner than later."

How does a 20-year-old American soccer player develop that kind of confidence, and such belief in his ability that he thinks--knows--he can compete against the world's best? It's no secret that soccer in America gets about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield on a bad day. We don't have the tradition, says Europe. We don't have the flair, says South America.

But much to the world's collective surprise this summer, the young Americans showed the world a thing or two about the state of the sport in the United States, advancing in this year's World Cup to the quarterfinals before falling to eventual runner-up Germany. Included in Team USA's incredible run was a victory over the highly touted, heavily favored Portugal, a team many thought would compete until the tournament's end. With two of the best players in the world in Luis Figo and Rui Costa, it was a given that our boys would fall. Until, that is, America led the vaunted Portuguese 3-0 before even a half-hour had eclipsed. At the end of ninety minutes, the Americans stunned Portugal--and the world--winning 3-2.

"Oh man, they didn't like us," recalls Beasley with a little swagger in his voice. "They walked off the field. We tried to exchange jerseys, do the friendly thing, but they just walked off. They weren't too happy with their performance, and they weren't too happy about losing to Americans. But that's how it goes--they got sour. But I didn't really care, I was too busy celebrating. And I didn't really care about getting anybody's jersey anyway."

Whether Americans knew it or not, Europe was salivating over Beasley even though he didn't score a goal in the tournament. Within a month of the Cup's finish, rumors popped up regarding interest in Beasley, linking him with everybody from Perugia in Italy's Serie A to an undisclosed team in the English Premier League. And last month Beasley's dream of playing in Europe almost came true when Ajax (Amsterdam) of the Dutch Eredivisie entered negotiations with Major League Soccer (which owns his contract) to establish a transfer fee. Only Ajax' poor financial situation, as well as the last-minute availability of another, much cheaper player, kept Beasley on the Chicago Fire roster. At this point, with the transfer to Ajax falling through, Beasley maintains loyalty to the Fire. "I'm gonna finish the season. I can't leave now. We have five games left, and then the playoffs--I'm not gonna leave. If something happened, like had Ajax come through, that would have been something. Right now, I'm gonna finish my MLS season."

Though the United States remains the world's last great superpower, our representation in the world's game is hardly noticeable. And even when Americans do play in Europe, rarely do they become stars. In fact, with the exception of players like Claudio Reyna (who plays for Sunderland of the English Premier League), Brad Friedel (goalie for the Blackburn Rovers of the EPL), John O'Brien (Ajax) and Kasey Keller (goalie for Tottenham Hotspur of the EPL), the Americans who do make it overseas hardly ever play.

So why, with as little credit as Europeans give American players, is interest piqued over Beasley? Ask around, watch a game, and the initial answer is clear. "You can't teach speed," says Jamie Trecker, who covers international football for ESPN. "He's fairly young, he's well spoken, and unlike the other American strikers, he has a real hunger for the goal.

"So much of football is instinct," he continues. "It's very difficult to teach players to shoot. But Damarcus wants to score and he can."

Adds Peter Wilt, general manager of the Fire: "He's a talented player with unique skills that can help any club in the world. His offensive skills are well documented, but under Fire coach Bob Bradley, he's really become a great defensive player as well. Throughout the world, that combination is a commodity."

Despite such lofty expectations, Beasley is, at the core, just a 20-year-old kid.

When we meet at a local restaurant, only a World Cup T-shirt and a diamond-studded necklace bearing his jersey number, 7, set him apart from anyone else on the street. When we discuss games in Italy and Argentina, he brushes off talk of violent fans and post-game riots. "What's out of control is the girls in the stands. Man... there were so many. Italy and Argentina, man, the girls are ridiculous. Just ridiculous. Sometimes I got caught up in watching the girls in the stands instead of the games, that's how bad--that's how good--it was." Sitting in the window of a restaurant, his eyes surreptitiously follow every attractive woman that passes.

And despite being a professional athlete concerned about maximizing energy output and staying in perfect health, he's even known to sample some traditional American cuisine. "I ain't gonna lie," he starts. "I go to Wendy's. I'll go get a Big Bacon Classic and I'll mess it up. Wendy's is my favorite fast food. I'd eat it everyday if I could, but I don't, and it's smart that I don't. Just every once in a while," he smiles.

When you speak with Beasley, it's hard to picture this courteous young man as a professional athlete, a member of the 2002 MLS All-Star squad, a member of the national soccer team. What makes it even harder to believe is his size: his official listing puts him at 5'7" and 126 pounds, making him the lightest player in the MLS, as well as on the national team.

Americans tend to look upon soccer as a game less physical than American football or hockey, but being the smallest--and fastest--player on a team can be a difficult obstacle to overcome. "His size hasn't been a disadvantage so far," says Trecker, "because guys can't catch him."

But only the elite have success playing football in Europe, and even the ultra-confident Beasley knows that if (Beasley doesn't say "if," he says "when") he goes to a European team, adjustments will be in order, especially if he goes to the exceptionally brutal English Premier League.

"I'll have to adjust to the physical part," he acknowledges. "I'm not too worried about lack of experience or my skills, once I get on to a team and get comfortable playing with the team on the field. But MLS defenders, there are guys out there whose job it is to hit you, that's it. In Europe, the defenders are a little more disciplined. They're smart enough to know when to hit you and when to lay off. But don't get me wrong. If a European defender wants to break your leg, he can do it whenever he wants."

It's a point Trecker makes as well. "European soccer is much rougher and it's a much more competitive environment. If he can get in a couple of solid years and take his knocks like Claudio Reyna did with the [Glasgow] Rangers, he'll be successful."

Beasley got a taste of European thug football during the World Cup. "Once they figured out I had speed and could get by defenders with ease, teams paid attention to me a little more--more than Portugal. It's a lot worse in the MLS, because I'm the smallest guy in the league. They just try to hit me to get me out of my game.

"But I'm always the smallest guy, even with guys my own age. It really doesn't phase me; I use what I have to my advantage. They want to hit me, whatever, I'm used to it. To all you guys out there who want to hit me: it doesn't work."

Beasley's professional resume is already packed with more memorable moments than the average sports professional: played on the U.S. national team at age 14; drafted into professional soccer at age 16; scored a game-winning goal against Korea in the Gold Cup; won the Silver Ball trophy at the 1999 FIFA world championships; played in fifteen international "caps" (games) for the U.S. national team, including the World Cup. But in spite of all this, he notes that the biggest boost to his confidence didn't come during one of his glory moments, but instead against Poland during the World Cup, a game the U.S. lost.

"That game was supposed to be my game off, but Jeff [Agoos] got hurt and the coach put me in. As I was going in, I saw their coach huddling the players up, pointing at me. So that showed me they had respect. When I went in, I drew two defenders, and they put the fastest guy on me. It was hard, but it was nice. I'm twenty years old, and in the World Cup they showed that they respected me. My speed, my quickness. That, man, that is pretty cool, when you see a coach pointing at you and saying, `yeah that's him right there, watch him.'"

Smart man, that Polish coach.

(2002-08-28)

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