In a sense, we are all still hung over from the great panic in Salvador. It smarts. There is little else to do but accept the realities of the day and all their implications, deal with them in their turn and plow ever onward. Thankfully, we have MLS fast on the approach, which for now will be a welcome ointment for the gash the Belgians so brazenly left us with, bleeding profusely as they dance into the next round. We are left with another round of fresh, barely understood wounds that will fester at least in some respect for another four years.
There are pointed questions to be answered. Jurgen Klinsmann must turn some of his fledgling talent loose to club teams, not all of which are sure-footed situations, and must pray that the best of his talent can stiff-arm stagnation.
But for now, like a gust of the purest of winds, here comes MLS. Welcome back. It feels good. Natural, even. For many of us, MLS over these next few months will be our catharsis, a single cog in this tortuous spin cycle that holds us in thrall to its stubborn orbit. The love turns to loathing turns to love again, and it’s hard to see where the seams are. Soccer is this oversize ball that just turns.