Posted by Stephen Kuzner

By Stephen Kuzner - WFD Fan Correspondent

A few months ago, my wife and I agreed to go on a camping trip with a couple-friend who have a daughter the same age as our daughter. Little did I know, when I agreed, half-listening because I was watching an FC Barcelona match, that the weekend was the first of the World Cup. I didn't put the date on my Outlook Calendar. Months passed by having forgotten this trip. The US gets drawn with England. And Presto-Chango, I am in a predicament that I can't get myself out of.

Now this isn't some ordinary camping trip. We are doing to Lancaster County Pennsylvania, God's Country. Well, Amish Country. I've been waiting 4 years for the World Cup, the US gets drawn with England, I get about a half-dozen viewing party invites, and I'm going camping? What am I going to do? The trip is a done deal. Finding a sports-bar in Amish Country is a tall order. At least, I can listen to it on radio. Heck, maybe this would create an even better story.

I bring a radio and batteries. Early Saturday morning I test the radio and find two sports stations. Surely one of these will have the game. Even better, I find a four-leaf clover while playing with my daughter. Perhaps, the US will win. 2:30 comes and everyone at the camp is napping. Perfect, I can turn on the radio, hold on to my rosary beads from the Vatican, and listen to the game. However, neither station has the game.

Panic time! I run to my car and frantically scan through every AM station. It feels like an eternity. My heart starts to speed. My hands and feet go cold. Oddly, I hear the click-clack of an Amish horse-drawn carriage somewhere beyond a tree-line. My wife walks-up to the car to remind me not to run the engine too long. My plan #2 was to try and go the whole weekend without finding-out who wins and watch the DVR recording. I have a better chance at the lottery than that.

After 3 scans through the channels, the radio finally picks-up a faint ESPN station. Four minutes have passed and England is winning 1-Nil from a Steven Gerrard goal.

The click-clack of the horse-drawn carriage drifts off and the Vuvuzelas from the broadcast slowly surround my car like the buzz of circling bees. I have heard this sound before. The rally sound of the US in the Confederations Cup. We got 86 more minutes, my four-leaf clover, and Vatican beads. WE can do this!

I'm sitting in my car in Amish Country thinking "WE" can do this?

Apparently Donovan only touches the ball on corners. We misfire on header after header. Tommy Smith keeps saying we need to string some passes together. Tim Howard gets hurt. James Milner gets a yellow card and Shawn Wright-Phillips replaces him. Howards punts a long ball that goes over the goal. Tommy Smith points out that Robert Green was a bit far out of goal, unfocused. Foreshadowing? Then, Green has the Howler. He bobbles in a routine shot by Clint Dempsey.

America! F@#$ yeah!

Half time. I take a walk to a public bathroom in the woods and walk back. The second half I try to picture things more. I close my eyes. They say the US is moving left to right. I hear long ball after long ball by the US that just misses its intended recipient. More and more Tommy Smith and JP Dellacamera mention Rooney's name. Frank Lampard delivers free-kicks and corners. My mind sees siege after siege after siege.

Peter Crouch replaces Emile Heskey. I've seen Crouchie play dozens of times. On TV he is 6 foot 5 inches. In my mind he is 6 foot 10 inches. Jan Koller might as well be entering the game. Memories of getting tanked by Czech Republic in 2006 flood my mind. I can't have negative vibes! We can do this. Use that "Creative Visualization" nonsense that David Beckham spoke about. I go to my "happy place" and picture Tim Howard Saves, Landon Donovan-led counter-attacks, and, most of all, Jay Demerit slide-tackles.

Tommy Smith says that both teams are playing to win, not tie. This is stressful to listen to. Stuart Holden subs-in. The 90th minute mark comes. Stoppage time starts. We get half-way through stoppage time. Herculez Gomes is set to ....... The Whistle Blows. Draw!

I turn off the radio and its Vuvuzela backdrop. I get out of the car. Everyone is awake now. My smile tells them that something good happened. The next 20 minutes are spent explaining to our friends why a draw is good and how there even are draws in soccer. My cell phone has a few drunk-dials about the game. Another click-clack of a horse-drawn carriage starts in the distance.