By this point they were beyond even humiliation. The bedraggled and deflated American Samoan team stood in a line, their baggy shirts flapping in the light evening breeze. With arms around each other’s shoulders they faced the appreciative Australian crowd and sang, in spite of the tears welling up in many of the players’ eyes. It was a song of pride, of defiance, of home. But home must have felt a long way off for the youthful squad who had just become world news, and not in a good way.
‘After the game we walked into the locker room, I bowed my head down and I cried a little bit,’ the goalkeeper Nicky Salapu recalled years later. ‘I felt very embarrassed and like I don’t want to play soccer anymore.’ Continue reading