The excessive celebrations against Thailand
Morgan's tea celebration
Morgan's excessive diving
The virtue signalling about them being criticised for it for being women, rather than their actual actions.
If it was the men's USA team, or say Spain, it'd be annoying too. Just like Suarez or Pepe are to others. It's one of those things though, it's grating to opposition's, but obviously not to people from the USA. They're arrogant, but they back it up, so fair enough. Just hopefully in years to come they'll have some actual opposition, currently the European teams are still a good 5-10 years behind where the USA is development and facilities wise, which imo undervalues their achievements given the lack of serious contenders.
With No Argument on Substance, Critics Take Aim at U.S.’s Style
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/06/sports/soccer/uswnt-world-cup-final.html
It started, of course, with
that rampage against Thailand, a team of world champions running up the score against a group of semiprofessionals, celebrating each and every one of their 13 goals with something approaching delirium. Some indistinct border of decency had been crossed, it was decided, even if the team had no idea whatsoever what the problem could possibly be.
The knockout stages brought yet more focus on how the players chose to celebrate. Piers Morgan’s objections to Megan Rapinoe’s
striking a pose after scoring against France can probably be written off as a transparent attempt to ingratiate himself with President Trump. The response to Morgan’s tea-sipping celebration against England might easily be seen as
confected outrage, that most valuable of currencies in the modern news media climate.
In between those two incidents, though, the English news media took exception to the news that the United States had scouted out the hotel England was using before the semifinal as a possible base for the final: the sort of forward-planning that pretty much every team in the world would undertake, but interpreted as yet more proof of the unthinking arrogance of the U.S. (Such was the paranoia, at that point, that a further minor storm brewed when it was briefly thought that the Americans had sent someone to spy on an England training session; it turned out — thankfully, for the sake of moral decency — that it was just a confused passer-by).
Individually, all of these incidents fall somewhere on the border between trivial and laughable. Taken together, though, they indicate a pattern; their frequency suggests a trend toward the policing of the behavior — and particularly the joy — of the American players. There is no question that this United States team is revered for its efficacy, its talent, its history; nobody would deny its claim to be the best in the world. It does not, though, seem to be especially well-liked.
It is not satisfactory, either, to put it down to the Americans’ penchant for preplanned celebrations. Choreographed routines are not, it is fair to say, universally popular — it is a personal view that they feel too contrived to be genuine expressions of joy — but, again, non-American players with trademark routines, like
White and her goggles, have gone largely unremarked.
What, then, might be at the root of it? Morgan also suggested that female athletes are expected to greet their triumphs demurely, diffidently, in a way that would not be expected of men.
That is not, though, this American team’s style, and nor should it be. Morgan and her teammates regard themselves — with abundant supporting evidence — as the best in the world. That they are willing to say so publicly speaks volumes not only of the standards they expect of themselves, but of their awareness that they are role models as much as athletes. They have a platform for empowerment, and do not intend to be discouraged from using it.
By the same token, though, it is perhaps understandable that opposing players, and opposing fans, might not especially appreciate finding themselves in the audience for a display of American greatness. This United States is the dominant force in women’s soccer, and has been for a decade or more; it has the air of a dynasty about it, an overweening, immutable empire. That comes with the inevitable consequence that rivals and challengers and usurpers tend to want to see it fall, to take pleasure in its perceived failings, to start to feel resentment alongside their reverence.
Perhaps, then, there is a compliment hidden in the criticism: If it is only the manner of the American victories that people can take issue with, some nebulous sense of a line being crossed, then that is proof of the scale of their dominance. Or perhaps not; perhaps it is cultural, that old trope of Europeans defining their own refinement through the prism of American brashness.
Either way, one thing has become increasingly clear over the last month in France. This United States team does not, when it comes down to it, care what other people think of it. It is here to win games, to claim a prize, to conquer the world. Whether it makes friends along the way is secondary. It is not in the business of inspiring affection. It is here to inspire awe, and it has done that rather nicely.
Morgan, when asked to explain her celebration against England, offered a compelling explanation for why that might be: that women, unlike men, are expected to restrain themselves in celebration, in particular, to maintain a standard foisted upon them by others. “There is some sort of double standard for females in sports,” she said. They are encouraged “to feel like we have to be humble in our successes; we have to celebrate, but not too much; we have to do something, but in a limited fashion.” Such self-containment, she said, is not asked of men.
She is doubtless right to suggest that women’s behavior is monitored far more than men’s, but it is worth noting that it is only American women who have been criticized for going too far in their moments of euphoria in this tournament. Nobody has suggested White or Sam Kerr or Vivianne Miedema might like to tone it down. Kerr was broadly praised, indeed, for her bluntness in
telling off her critics after Australia defeated Brazil in the group stage. That indicates that nationality, as well as gender, is a relevant factor in the censure.
It is not satisfactory, either, to put it down to the Americans’ penchant for preplanned celebrations. Choreographed routines are not, it is fair to say, universally popular — it is a personal view that they feel too contrived to be genuine expressions of joy — but, again, non-American players with trademark routines, like
White and her goggles, have gone largely unremarked.
What, then, might be at the root of it? Morgan also suggested that female athletes are expected to greet their triumphs demurely, diffidently, in a way that would not be expected of men.
That is not, though, this American team’s style, and nor should it be. Morgan and her teammates regard themselves — with abundant supporting evidence — as the best in the world. That they are willing to say so publicly speaks volumes not only of the standards they expect of themselves, but of their awareness that they are role models as much as athletes. They have a platform for empowerment, and do not intend to be discouraged from using it.
By the same token, though, it is perhaps understandable that opposing players, and opposing fans, might not especially appreciate finding themselves in the audience for a display of American greatness.
This United States is the dominant force in women’s soccer, and has been for a decade or more; it has the air of a dynasty about it, an overweening, immutable empire. That comes with the inevitable consequence that rivals and challengers and usurpers tend to want to see it fall, to take pleasure in its perceived failings, to start to feel resentment alongside their reverence.
Perhaps, then, there is a compliment hidden in the criticism: If it is only the manner of the American victories that people can take issue with, some nebulous sense of a line being crossed, then that is proof of the scale of their dominance. Or perhaps not; perhaps it is cultural, that old trope of Europeans defining their own refinement through the prism of American brashness.
Either way, one thing has become increasingly clear over the last month in France. This United States team does not, when it comes down to it, care what other people think of it. It is here to win games, to claim a prize, to conquer the world. Whether it makes friends along the way is secondary. It is not in the business of inspiring affection. It is here to inspire awe, and it has done that rather nicely.
