Pick a country, any country. Better yet, pick two.
National pride can be a complicated thing at the World Cup. While most players are representing the countries where they were born, others — for various reasons — are like UN ambassadors. One Boateng brother plays for Germany, the other for Ghana. Algeria’s Hassan Yebda won an under-17 world title with France. Winston Reid is a Kiwi by way of Denmark. Stuart Holden was born in Scotland and still has a UK passport, yet now wears the colors of the United States.
“Moving to the States at 10 and becoming ingrained in the culture and considering myself an American — obviously, I still have that Scottish tradition and culture that I’ll never forget,” Holden said.
“But being able to represent the US in a World Cup is something that is really matter of pride to me, and something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.”
Switching allegiances is nothing new in sports, soccer in particular.
Joe Gaetjens, who scored the only goal in the United States’ monumental upset of England in 1950, was from Haiti. Alfredo di Stefano, one of the game’s greatest players, played for Spain and Colombia as well as his native Argentina. Ferenc Puskas, the mightiest of Hungary’s “Magical Magyars,” finished his international career with Spain.
But football isn’t like the Olympics these days, where nationalities are about as hard and fast as rubber bands.
According to current Fifa rules, players with dual nationalities are free to switch sides at any age — so long as you haven’t appeared in an official game (think World Cup or European championship) with a senior national team. Make an appearance, even if it’s just for a few minutes, and you better know the words to that country’s national anthem because you’ll be hearing it for the rest of your career.
That means Holden can’t decide in a year or two that he would rather play for Scotland. But the Berlin-born Kevin-Prince Boateng was free to become a Ghanaian because he’d only played on Germany’s youth teams.
The World Cup is the pinnacle for any top-level player, and it’s a lot easier to get here if you grew up in, say, Denmark, than soccer-mad Brazil, where above-average talent won’t even get you an invitation to a youth camp.