I agree. The character of America is so diverse and so abstract at times that we may only sometimes be able to describe it. But we know it when we see it.

The upcoming movie, Captain America, is sure to give us glimpses of the American Character. Or at least what it once was thought to be.

In the real world, a person can look at actions of others and have wonderful conversations about whether they match with our country’s character, values, and beliefs. Because of diversity of this country, beliefs won’t always be the same. Character will be diverse. But there are themes and threads that can be as easily identified as the Stars and Stripes themselves.

The United States Women’s Soccer Team was on the brink of elimination from the Women’s World Cup on Sunday afternoon in Germany. Down 2-1 in the 122nd and final minute of the match, the Americans scored a dramatic goal and won the game, moving on into the semifinal round.

A closer look at the team’s past and especially the saga of American keeper Hope Solo reveals the nature and diversity of the American Character.

The old phrase, “Adversity doesn’t teach character, it reveals it,” rings true in Solo’s case. The character of individuals like Abby Wambach, Hope Solo, and the entire US Women’s Soccer Team was revealed over three angst-filled hours on Sunday. Here’s how:

________________________________________________________

America was founded on the basis of principles (among others) like manifest destiny and the idea of making it yourself. ESPN’s Sal Paolantonio theorizes in his book, How Football Explains America, that sports like American football are popular in this country implicitly due to its physical and structural connection to the idea of manifest destiny. If you want more details on this, and also on why soccer isn’t as popular in America as in the rest of the world, read his book. Paolantonio’s idea seems sound: Popularity of a sport or an athlete in the United States is based largely on whether that athlete fits into an imagined ideal.

For a football player forty years ago, that meant that you looked like Mike Ditka, Jack Lambert, or Bart Starr. For a basketball player, that ideal is almost certainly Michael Jordan. In baseball, Ken Griffey Jr. or pre-steroid Barry Bonds definitely come to mind.

In women’s soccer, that ideal has been embodied for at least the last 20 years by Mia Hamm. While she played and since she retired, Hamm was always quiet, unassuming, and dominant. She was light-years ahead of any female player on the world stage. In leading the United States team to Wold Cup glory in 1999, she seemed mostly quiet off the field– content to let others talk while she basked in the glory of achievement.

In retirement, Hamm has largely stayed out of the spotlight while some of her teammates like Julie Foudy and Brandi Chastain (among others) have gone on to be television analysts. Hamm has been the epitome of the quiet superstar. When you think of Hamm’s personality, visions of David Robinson, Cal Ripken, Walter Payton and other understated stars come to mind.

The 2011 US team is not made up of Mia Hamms. Hope Solo, most certainly, is no Mia Hamm.

The Wild West, Gunslingers, and Free Speech

In 2007, the United States lost their semifinal game vs. Brazil. After giving up only two goals total in the first four games of the tournament, US coach Greg Ryan played veteran Brianna Scurry in goal, benching Solo. After the team lost the game 4-0, Solo spoke her mind:

“It was the wrong decision, and I think anybody that knows anything about the game knows that. There’s no doubt in my mind I would have made those saves. And the fact of the matter is it’s not 2004 anymore. It’s not 2004. And it’s 2007, and I think you have to live in the present. And you can’t live by big names. You can’t live in the past. It doesn’t matter what somebody did in an Olympic gold medal game in the Olympics three years ago. Now is what matters, and that’s what I think.”

Solo’s words brought her a hailstorm of criticism. In a world where overhyped and egotistical athletes talk way too much, hers was simply another public example of someone making a bad decision in the heat of the moment. Ryan booted her off the US team and was fired soon thereafter.

As Solo said today in a radio interview, nobody else knows what she went through. In her mind, that precludes the right of anyone else to pass judgment on her actions.

And all the criticism begs this question: Isn’t speaking out about something that is a passion distinctly American? We love it when our athletes tell it like it is. We love Ozzie Guillen’s rants, right? We are hypnotized when Chad Ochocinco changes his name, when Bode Miller says something random, or when Ron Artest changes his name to Metta Worldpeace. We love it when Shaq says whatever he feels like saying in a post-game interview.

On Sunday evening, the US Captain, Abby Wambach said of Solo, “she is the best keeper in the world.”

So why was the reaction to Solo’s speaking out so negative? If she really is the best keeper in the world, might she have been the best keeper in the world in 2007? Don’t we expect our athletes to be as confident as a gunfighter in the wild west? Don’t you want a player, who may be among the best in the world in her position to be confident and to toe the line with cocky all day long? Here’s what the USA Soccer website has to say about Solo’s 2007. Straight from her profile:

2007: Started 15 games, earning nine shutouts and started the first four games of the 2007 FIFA Women’s World Cup in her first world championship … Was 13-0-2 on the year, allowing just eight goals and had three shutouts in the Women’s World Cup.

And then she was benched. How would you feel?

And isn’t free speech part of what we can do in America. Can you imagine what would have happened to the North Korean team had one of their players questioned the coach after the game? The coach, who used “getting struck by lightning” as an excuse for losing a hard-fought game to the United States, might have done a lot more than kick one of their players off the team.

And does anyone think that Solo didn’t know what the repercussions of her actions would be? She stood up for something she believed in, went against what you are “supposed” to do, and, with the tournament already over, impacted her teammates and the game much less negatively than people think.

Admitting Mistakes and Second Chances

In the Hero Journey, the protagonist must overcome adversity and, eventually, commit to change. The commitment to change is usually the turning point in a story and can be difficult for the hero and those around him/her.

When she made her comments, Solo certainly committed to change. She had to know what was coming

It wouldn’t be fair not to criticize her actions at all though. Solo spoke out when her teammates and soccer fans around this country were hurting. Her choice of timing — right after the game — was as effective for getting her message across as it was divisive. And her friendship with Brianna Scurry was demolished.

Because of all of that, Solo has spent the past four years regaining lost trust from her teammates. A New York Times article from 2008 carries some weight in the matter.

It also discusses the role Solo being a woman played in the extremely negative reaction of the public, which is an interesting point, but one for another article. It also talks about the role of Solo’s father passing away shortly before the 2007 World Cup and some of the tribulations she went through while at the University of Washington. Solo had been through a lot, risen to the top of the soccer world, and had been struck down emotionally by her coach and by the unkind realities of human existence.

But America is about nothing if not second chances. Time has passed, the US team has been rebuilt around Wambach and Solo, and they are poised to complete their path toward redemption.

Be like Han

And then there’s this. Her name is Hope Solo. She was born the same year I was: 1981. For your reference, The Empire Strikes Back debuted in 1980; Return of the Jedi in 1983. So let’s compare her to the swashbuckling Harrison Ford character who happened to also be distinctly American.

When he first appears in Star Wars, Solo is a first-rate jerk. He doesn’t like working with anyone. He even struggles working with his first mate, a Wookie who only stays with Han, presumably, because Solo once saved his life.

Han even goes so far as to give up one of his only friends to Darth Vader. A bad decision. Remind you of anyone?

Han Solo, of course, redeems himself. As the most American of Americans, Solo helps Luke Skywalker and the rebels destroy the Death Star and Darth Vader himself. There is a decisive victory, but it only came because Skywalker gave him a second chance. Solo went from a traitor to a hero relatively quickly and this ascension, this ability to pull oneself up by their bootstraps and get to the top, is (historically) a uniquely American experience.

It’s taken Hope Solo a lot longer, but hers has the potential to be a similar journey. To put it another way, she has a firm grasp on her bootstraps with two games to go.

Winning and Redemption

As definitively American as Hope Solo’s journey has been, it’s not complete. The story of the American Character, to be satisfying to the public, must end with triumph and unquestionable victory. Solo is not there yet. In so many ways, neither is any of the US team. If they lose on Wednesday, they will be a team whose fate was only delayed three days by great individual plays from Wambach and Solo. Players like Shannon Boxx, Wambach, and Solo will have careers marked by gaping World Cup holes and unfulfilled dreams. To complete the journey and, some would argue, to make theirs a completely American hero journey, the team must win. The story must be completed.

For Solo, this World Cup is a microcosm of her career. After a brilliant start, there was a significant hiccup and it took time to get the original confidence back. Wambach’s header into the back of the net Sunday afternoon gave the team that confidence anew. And kept Solo’s story going. How distinctly American.

For a kid growing up in the 80’s, the Lakers dominance was a right of passage. In 1987, I was six years old and I have real memories of the moment when Magic sunk his sky-hook against the Celtics. The Lakers made eight out of ten NBA Finals in the 80’s and won five. Hearing Chick Hearn calling Magic’s sky-hook still gives me the chills.

In 1989, at the age of 8, I watched the Lakers’ last title for a while. After making the Finals in 1991, the franchise lost their superstar and fell on some hard times. Names like Magic, Kareem, and Big Game James were replaced by guys named VanExel, Sedale, Vlade, and Pig. In 1993-94, they finished 16 games below .500 and didn’t make the playoffs. Even for a 12-year old Lakers fanatic, Vlade’s soft Euro-game, Elden Campbell’s small hands, and James Edwards’ fade-away post moves didn’t cut it. VanExel was too young, Sedale too old, and even then George Lynch annoyed me.

While the Lakers continued to improve both in talent and in their record, the remainder of the pre-Shaq era was largely filled with end-of-season frustration and the realization that the Western Conference was completely inferior and that the Lakers were even inferior within the Western Conference.

In one offseason, Shaq’s decision to sign with the Lakers changed everything. No longer did Lakers fans have to deal with the frustration of a 7-foot center who was reluctant to dunk. Shaq’s game was everything that the Lakers seemed to need and more. More importantly, Shaq gave the Lakers a headliner they had been missing in the years since Magic retired. In a star-studded city like Los Angeles, don’t underestimate the impact of a headliner.

Despite losses to the Jazz in the playoffs and frustrating finishes to season, watching Shaq was ALWAYS a treat. As a fan, you always felt like you might see a feat of athletic dominance that you’d never seen before. The Diesel was “bigger, stronger, and faster” personified.

It took patience to wait for Phil Jackson to move to Los Angeles and for Kobe Bryant to mature enough to provide the second punch in the Lakers’ attack. But while we waited for the team to mature, Shaq provided mammoth dunk after mammoth dunk.

During the 1999-2000 season, Shaq took both his game and his showmanship to another level. In the new Staples Center — the entertainment crown jewel of Los Angeles — fans were serenaded with the theme from Superman whenever their own “Superman” established his dominance over an opponent.

The Lakers won the title in 2000 and the next two after that. His amazing ability on the court was sealed.

But I will remember other things most about Shaq and his time in Los Angeles.

I will remember not answering the questions asked by someone like Craig Saeger or John Ireland, but rather answer whatever question he felt like answering.

Sideline guy: “Shaq, you scored 37 points and pulled down 22 rebounds. Was the game plan to get the ball into you early?”

Shaq: “My teammates were really great tonight, I love this city and we are all excited to get this win on the road.”

Genius.

I’ll remember Shaq’s glossing himself “The Big Aristotle” after some deep conversations with and study under the Zen Master.

I’ll remember his story about how Phil Jackson made him swim out into a lake to help him with a chore when he went to visit Jackson in Montana after Jackson committed to the Lakers. Whether it happened or not, it was a great story and vintage Shaq showmanship.

I’ll always remember conversations with my college roommate, Kurt, about how his teammates were the stupidest people alive if they didn’t throw the ball into Shaq in the post on every possession. He was that dominant.

Most of all, I’ll probably remember some of Shaq’s quotes about being allowed to be abused in the post.

Many of them are chronicled here at http://shaqquotes.com .

Some of my favorites are:

“Keep in mind, I’m not allowed to be tough. I’m tamed.” Shaq had to take abuse all game, every game, and not strike back. His self-awareness of the fact that he was “tamed” is an interesting observation. For those who question how hard he tried or how much he cared, you should also question what kind of madness may have happened to other people on the court had he cared a little more or acted out on what were surely his desires to get all the Matt Geigers of the world back for inflicting constant physical harm upon him.

“You guys make the rules up, so a foul is a foul.  It doesn’t matter if a guy is bigger and stronger. It’s not my fault I ate my Frosted Flakes when I was little, and you ate Wheaties.”

Shaq gave Barkley-level quotes while being likeable during his playing days. He had what was arguably the most dominant 5 year stretch a player could have. He went away from Los Angeles and while he was bitter, he had built up so much good will, that it was still hard to dislike him as an overweight and bitter also-ran who was run out of town. As a Lakers fan, I was truly happy for him when he won another title.

Despite an injury-plagued end to his career, Shaq even made the Celtics more likable this year. His impact on the game will be measured against Bird, Magic, Jordan, Chamberlain, Robertson, West, Erving, and Jabbar. At a time when everyone complained about a Jordan-less league Shaq was the main attraction, carrying the weight of David Stern’s post-Jordan bitterness on his broad shoulders with ease. His presence will be missed on the court.

His retirement, however, opens up an opportunity for the greatest pre/post game show in NBA history. I can’t watch those games, but I would probably tune in to see Shaq, Charles, Kenny, and EJ on a pre-game, halftime, or post-game show. Can you dig it?