SEATTLE — They collapsed or wandered around the turf at Lumen Field equal parts exhausted and stunned.
On a Monday night that began with so much hope and hype, with history waiting to be made, suddenly, painfully, their World Cup was over.
Players who just last month walked around this same field singing “Country Roads,” absorbing an atmosphere they never could have dreamed because it never previously existed, now sank their foreheads into grass. Some cried. Some tried to blink their way out of the nightmare that was a 4-1 loss to Belgium, or stare past a set of piercing, perplexing questions.
How, after so much glee over the past month, had it suddenly turned so sour? How, after so much dynamic soccer, could each thought seem so slow and each touch look so sloppy?
U.S. players entered Monday’s round-of-16 match with confidence, so much confidence that the prospect of a World Cup exit on the banks of the Elliott Bay barely registered.
“We all had in our minds that we were definitely gonna be heading back to L.A. tomorrow (for a quarterfinal),” midfielder Gio Reyna said.
Instead, they rode a bus back to their team hotel, and over the 24 hours that followed, they said emotional goodbyes. They shared a last night of drinks and debriefing at the team hotel; sent farewell messages in their WhatsApp group; then trudged through Seattle-Tacoma International Airport and went their separate ways.
They were devastated, then disappointed, then reflective. Eventually, they’ll fondly recall their summer in a bubble at the heart of a nationwide party. They’ll treasure the singalongs, the intimate locker-room moments, the idyllic afternoons on Salt Creek Beach. They’ll remember how they flew around fields, and inspired young kids, and captured the imagination of their country. Their star, Folarin Balogun, would frequently wonder aloud: “Is this real life?”
All of which is why the end was so deflating.
To those on the inside, the U.S. run at the 2026 World Cup was every bit as magical as it seemed — until, abruptly, it was the polar opposite.
Chris Richards, Folarin Balogun and Christian Pulisic walk off the field after the USMNT’s elimination from the World Cup (Ted S. Warren / AP Photo)
Pre-World Cup culture shock
The story of this run, in many ways, begins back in 2024 when head coach Mauricio Pochettino arrived to find a culture that shocked him.
“The situation was worse than we really believed,” Pochettino said last month. Ahead of their first training camp in Austin, Texas, that October, he and his staff expected to meet players who “would be so desperate to help (and) come to the national team.” Instead, “we received a big punch,” he recalled. They felt they were the only ones excited for the World Cup to start.
Christian Pulisic, the team’s star, left that camp early to return to AC Milan, a decision that was described as “load management” and roundly criticized by U.S. national team veterans, including Tim Howard and Alexi Lalas. Pochettino went along with that plan publicly, but it was symptomatic of dynamics that had to be fixed. He encountered players who had too much power, who dictated time off, and who sometimes used it for golf outings or meals with friends.
Pochettino felt he had to strip away that power. The teardown was, at times, tumultuous. A March 2025 window, which culminated with losses to Panama and Canada, “was painful,” he’d later say. “But it was necessary … for the players to realize that (doing things) this way, it is impossible to arrive in a good condition for the World Cup.”
Some of the friction spilled into public view when Pulisic and Pochettino gave dueling accounts of Pulisic’s decision to skip the 2025 Concacaf Gold Cup. But at that regional tournament last summer, most or all players present bought in. Others did throughout the fall. By the spring of 2026, relationships had improved. And in late May, as players and staff settled at their boutique hotel in Fayetteville, Ga., and shared their first meals of the World Cup journey, and savored the world-class amenities at U.S. Soccer’s new national training center, connections began to strengthen.
Players who’d been friends for years, such as Pulisic, Tyler Adams and Weston McKennie, enjoyed quiet moments in the relative anonymity of Trilith’s one-block, master-planned downtown. They took selfies with the occasional fan, but also popped into coffee shops together before the four-minute bus ride to training. And friendships seemed to spread throughout the group of 26 players. Cliques dissolved.
They celebrated birthdays and Brenden Aaronson’s wedding together. Intense training sessions, but also casual bonding, readied them for the World Cup spotlight. Players first sensed something special when they were greeted by a marching band and hundreds of supporters outside the team hotel in Trillith. In Charlotte and Chicago, at friendlies against Senegal and Germany, they also felt jolts of energy that would sweep across America and inspire them to inspire the nation.
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By the time they arrived at their World Cup base camp in Southern California, a near-perfect storm seemed to be brewing. People on the periphery of the team would whisper: vibes are really good. On Monday, June 8, after they trained in front of 5,500 local fans at the Championship Soccer Stadium in Irvine, before they soaked up the public support by signing hundreds of autographs, Pochettino convened the players in two small groups. Sitting on pristine grass at the center of the pitch, he set the tone for their World Cup.
“Now is a moment to connect with when you were a child … with this kid that dreamed,” Pochettino told the players. He wanted them to play carefree, with passion and joy uninhibited by any pressure they might be feeling. And he wanted them to “dream” just like that kid.
“The objective is to touch the moon,” he said. “I want to touch the moon. I don’t want to say, ‘Oh, I want to be close to the moon.’ … No, I want to touch the moon. … And, why not? Why not us? It’s possible, it’s possible.”
The message seemed to resonate with players. On opening night, some welled with emotion during the national anthem, then channeled their younger selves and played their best half of the Pochettino era en route to a 4-1 beatdown of Paraguay.
“We just wanted to go out there,” McKennie said afterward, “and feel like how we felt whenever we would play pickup ball.” And with 27 million Americans watching, they did that.
Chris Richards and Folarin Balogun celebrate a goal vs. Paraguay, part of the USMNT’s electric start to the World Cup (Andre Penner / AP Photo)
A dream-like group stage
Between their “dreamy” group-stage games, USMNT players settled into a soothing rhythm. The morning after, they would do “regeneration” sessions at their spacious training ground at Great Park. Then, they would unwind. At their team hotel, The Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel in Dana Point, Calif., there were team-wide barbecues where staff, players and family members could mingle. In addition to bountiful feasts, there were Nike activations, including a program that allowed anyone to design custom-made, one-of-a-kind shirts that were printed on-site.
Those get-togethers were reprieves from the major-tournament grind, and allowed players “to have as much of a normal family feeling as you possibly can during a World Cup,” captain Tim Ream said.
In the 24 hours after matches, Ream noted, it was “really difficult to disconnect.” The adrenaline and overwhelming emotions wouldn’t simply disappear. The messages and awe-inspiring scenes from around the country were inescapable — “which is not a bad thing,” Ream clarified. “It makes it feel like something special is really happening with the team, and the connection with the fans and the country.” Pochettino and his staff would also relish the images from watch parties, a stark departure from what they’d seen throughout their previous 20 months on the job.
But come Sunday, it was time to reset, recharge and refocus. A day off, without responsibility, allowed players to do that. The Ritz became an oasis for the team, with game rooms and gorgeous Pacific Ocean views. Some players ventured out to local establishments. Some went for walks along the beach. Balogun went out on a boat to relax. “I wanted to be out on the water,” he said. “It just helps me switch off.” Others, he said, would go shopping, fishing or even surfing.
Balogun was amazed by the idyllic setting in Laguna Niguel and by the sheer amount of options in America. While riding around Southern California, the London-bred striker would marvel at things as simple as a passerby’s outfit or a Bojangles, teammate Mark McKenzie said.
And at the hotel itself, players and staff ate meals on a large covered patio dotted with palm trees. They got massages outdoors as well, as waves crashed ashore within earshot. They hung out and watched other World Cup games in lounges. They drank coffee prepared by their favorite barista, Becky Reeves, whom Pochettino had greeted with a hug at his first camp in Austin, and who was brought in at the team’s request as part of a partnership with La Colombe.
All of it turned Orange County into something of a home away from home. On Mondays after a Friday game — “matchday plus three” in soccer parlance — everyone would get back to work, “and it actually just becomes like a club schedule, where it’s very regimented,” Ream explained. The cadence of the tournament, with close to a week or a full week between games, allowed for breathers and proper preparation.
“We are feeling (like) coaches now,” Pochettino said, at long last, after 20 months of truncated training camps and very little time with players. “We feel like we are in clubs working, and we can plan the week.”
Uncoincidentally, his U.S. team began to look like some of the club teams he’d coached back in England. They rolled past Australia, 2-0. And it was after that victory that the breadth and depth of connection between players, staff and fans really struck them.
Weston McKennie conducts the USMNT crowd for a rendition of “Country Roads” after a win over Australia in Seattle (Manu Fernandez / AP Photo)
As “Country Roads” filled Lumen Field in Seattle, Pochettino hugged team press officer Michael Kammarman. Pochettino didn’t know the song, so, as they danced in an embrace, Kammarman relayed the lyrics into Pochettino’s ear. Over the coming days and weeks, Pochettino learned the words, so that he could sing the tune that instantly became the team’s World Cup anthem. In the locker room after the win, he told players that it made him emotional.
Pochettino’s speech after that match also offered another touching moment. As millions across the United States, from government officials to soccer-agnostic laypeople, hailed a dozen players, Pochettino gave a shout out to assistant equipment manager Joe McLean, who had been jumping into training exercises with players to make up numbers, doing whatever necessary to serve the team. It spoke to the culture that had blossomed, where every individual felt valued. The players eventually gave McLean a No. 27 U.S. jersey signed by the entire team.
Six days later, the 3-2 loss to Turkey — suffered by a second-string team after the U.S. had already clinched Group D — did not dampen spirits. Players remained loose, focused and confident. They bumped music in the back of their bus. They hung around training fields long after sessions had ended.
The biggest negative of the first few weeks was a calf injury suffered by Pulisic in the first half against Paraguay, which forced him out of the game. Each day, cameras zoomed across the training field to capture him doing individual work as he tried to get back on the field. Pulisic missed the Australia game, but returned against Turkey, looking strong and energetic in a late-game appearance. Those around the team insisted the calf injury did not hamper him once he was back on the field.
By the time a round-of-32 clash with Bosnia and Herzegovina rolled around, Pulisic was healthy. The team was intact and felt fully prepared. Balogun’s red card in that 2-0 win over Bosnia became a point of public contention, but didn’t alter the vibe internally.
Two days after that, on July 3, after their first training session in Seattle ahead of the Belgium match, McKennie — whose gregarious, fun-loving personality often injected the group with lightness — led a dozen players over to the University of Washington’s baseball stadium to take batting practice. Tyler Adams made a backpedaling catch in the outfield. Malik Tillman, born and raised in Germany, made a barehand play. Reyna was making backhand stabs at shortstop. McKennie then pitched to backup goalkeeper Matt Turner, the team’s baseball star. McKennie got Turner to swing and miss twice, then fly out, though Turner ultimately hit a home run. Three days from the biggest game in U.S. men’s soccer history, there was zero indication that any pressure was gnawing at them.
That night, 25 of 26 players attended a Seattle Mariners game. The public address announcer at T-Mobile Park introduced them as “American heroes.” As they paraded one by one onto the field, before Pochettino threw a ceremonial first pitch, the nationwide adulation trailing them became apparent. Mariners players — professional athletes making millions of dollars — rushed to pose for a photo with them. Pulisic gathered his teammates to snap a selfie and commemorate the moment. Cristian Roldan, who plays his club soccer for the Seattle Sounders, got six seconds on a microphone and elicited a roar with his message, a six-word rallying cry emblematic of the ambition and optimism that millions were feeling: “Let’s go win a World Cup!”
The one player who stayed back was Balogun, whom the whole world assumed would miss the next game due to a red card suspension. His absence that night, according to a team spokesperson, had nothing to do with the situation that would engulf him and the team in the days that followed. It was the last time he was out of the limelight as, unbeknownst to players, a storm was brewing in the background.
USMNT fans show their support for Folarin Balogun on the march to the match in Seattle for the round of 16 vs. Belgium (Eric Hiller / AP Photo)
Balo-Gate, controversy and the crashout
It was 7:31 a.m. PT on Sunday, July 5 — about 33 hours before the U.S. would meet Belgium — when the narrative of this World Cup run irreversibly changed.
An official communication from FIFA to U.S. Soccer arrived in an online portal. The contents of the message soon became the biggest controversy of this World Cup. Ever since Wednesday night, U.S. Soccer officials and, separately, White House officials had been plotting a push to overturn Balogun’s red card. On Sunday morning, they learned they’d essentially succeeded — that Balogun’s automatic one-match ban would be suspended and, out of nowhere, he’d be eligible to face Belgium.
Players emerged from a team meeting that morning at their downtown Seattle hotel unaware of the news. The Athletic broke it while they were en route to training. Word quickly spread on the team bus, via texts and excited conversations that cut through back-of-bus music. When Balogun stepped off the bus at Husky Soccer Stadium, athletic trainer Kenny Ishii gave him a bear hug.
Outside the U.S. camp, though, the reaction was very different. Belgium released an incredulous statement and contested the decision. Soccer officials, journalists and fans worldwide questioned the FIFA process that led to the reversal and the involvement of U.S. President Donald Trump, who called FIFA president Gianni Infantino soon after the red card to ask for a review.
Noise crescendoed throughout Sunday and into Monday, when Trump waded in further. The public mood around the U.S. team shifted dramatically. The fun, enthralling squad sweeping up a host nation became a polarizing one. And the question on the tips of a million tongues became: How will all this affect the match?
U.S. players, speaking after the eventual loss to Belgium, insisted it wasn’t a factor. Sources close to the team say they were shielded from the outcry. But of course they were aware of it. Defender Chris Richards acknowledged “the antics of the past 24 hours,” though he said they had nothing to do with the defeat.
“People are gonna hate on us regardless,” Richards said. “If they wanna add (this controversy) to the list, then so be it. But …I think real fans, real supporters of this group understand that it’s our game, and we didn’t make a decision over the last 24 hours.”
USMNT fans react to World Cup elimination at the hands of Belgium (Eric Hiller / AP Photo)
Inside the Belgian locker room, though, the Balogun decision became a unifying force for a team that previously seemed fractured. Some players downplayed it, but others described it as a source of motivation. “Let’s be honest: we held a meeting when we heard the news,” Belgian midfielder Youri Tielemans said. “We told ourselves we needed to do talking on pitch.” Others had a laugh. And after their emphatic victory, some celebrated with the “Trump dance.”
“We have punished the disrespect that the Americans have shown us in the last few days,” goalkeeper Thibaut Courtois said. “I was way more confident that we’d beat USA than I was of beating Senegal.”
Whether the saga heaped undue pressure onto U.S. players, and corrupted the carefree vibe of the previous month, is difficult to know. Although a few family members and agents lamented the situation on social media — “NO PLACE (for) POLITICS TO TARNISH ALL THE HARD WORK THE TEAM HAS PUT IN!” John McKennie, Weston’s dad, wrote above a video of Trump discussing the controversy — players themselves and others close to the team say it wasn’t the reason they flopped.
So, what was the reason?
Players and others have cited Belgium’s gameplan — to bypass the U.S. press, which had been so fearsome in the first four games. Courtois would play long to striker Charles De Ketelaere. Belgian midfielders won an alarming majority of the second balls. The U.S. was slow to adapt.
Several players also simply delivered their worst 45-90 minutes of the tournament at the worst possible time. The weakest links among them made critical mistakes. And, like in 2022, depth was lacking.
So, a tournament that started with so much promise ended not just in disappointment, but with a positive story recast as one about a country whose privileged outlook was properly punished. And for all the dreaming this U.S. team did, it failed to advance further than the program did in 2022, 2014 and 2010.
Its golden opportunity was gone.
And the tournament that had for so long been the players’ North Star was suddenly behind them.
The aftermath
As that harsh reality settled in, optimism was hard to come by. At Lumen Field, the friends and family section behind the U.S. bench was “like a morgue,” one person present said. It was, as another would say, “deep depression.” So much had been put into this moment, not just in the previous weeks and months, but over nearly a decade of building. No one was ready for it to end.
As it did, three simultaneous processes played out in Seattle and across America.
By Tuesday morning, players one by one slowly made their way to the lobby at the Hyatt Olive 8 hotel in downtown Seattle, giving hugs to friends and staff members before wheeling their own big suitcases out to waiting black cars.
Some of them, meanwhile, were being pilloried by fans new and old. Pochettino’s decision to start Matt Freese over Turner throughout the tournament was being questioned. Others were bemoaning the lack of central defensive depth that left Tim Ream, a respected figure in every corner of the locker room, starting at age 38.
Christian Pulisic’s World Cup ended with an ankle injury suffered midway through the second half vs. Belgium (Manu Fernandez / AP Photo)
And then there was Pulisic, who entered the tournament trying to cement his place as the best player in American men’s soccer history. He exited it with a second injury in less than a month, and with fans questioning his performance, personality and commitment — a stunning reversal for a player who had mostly played well on the biggest stages for the U.S. over the past five years.
And finally, there were U.S. Soccer executives already thinking about the future. Pochettino, whose contract expires this summer, could still be a part of it — “in the next weeks, we can start to talk if the federation wants to talk” about an extension, he said Monday. If he doesn’t return, a coaching search will commence. Either way, there was and is a bigger picture to consider: What needs to be done to push the U.S. men’s program closer to the international elite? Significant changes are already in motion at youth levels; what about in the top North American men’s pro league, MLS, which will soon have new leadership?
But before any of those discussions could begin, before he departed Seattle on Tuesday morning, not far from the spot of his memorable “Country Roads” moment weeks earlier, Pochettino had one last message to send.
With players and staff huddled near midfield, mere minutes after his dream to touch the moon in 2026 died, Pochettino took the proverbial floor before the team bowed their heads to pray.
“Belief doesn’t end here,” he told the players, according to Sergiño Dest. “We have so much talent and so many good players, and we can definitely achieve something in the future.
“So we still gotta believe.”
