SEATTLE — At 9:36 a.m. Friday, on the corner of South King Street and Occidental Avenue, I was given a yellow card.

Never mind that I last played competitive soccer more than two decades ago, or that the United States’ 2-0 FIFA Men’s World Cup win over Australia was still hours away. The piece of punitive plastic was issued by a would-be referee, a young woman in a yellow shirt and black shorts with matching black cleats. She blew a black whistle hanging around her neck, handed me the card and explained that I’d earned it “for not wearing USA gear.” One more yellow, she concluded, and I’d have to go home.

On Friday, this was an uncommon offense. Pioneer Square pulsed with American pride. Waves of red, white and blue surged through the streets. They came with bald eagle stuffed animals perched atop their hats; with white revolutionary wigs and matching regalia; with top hats and American flags retrofitted into superhero capes; with stars-and-stripes scarves and overalls; with U-S-A chants belted between beer gulps. With rare, near unanimity.

With a pure, uncomplicated patriotism in a complicated time.

It’s complicated, of course, by a political climate where many Americans feel fragmented, rather than unified. And by President Donald Trump’s war with Iran, which will play Egypt in a World Cup match inside Seattle Stadium next week. And by our country’s strained standing with so many nations sharing our stadiums. And by the ever-profiting presence of FIFA, the bemoaned international soccer governing body that awarded Trump a peace prize last year.

I won’t tell you how to feel about any of that. A soccer match is a compelling distraction, not a miracle cure.

But on Friday, for me? The prevailing feeling was pride.

Because on a world stage, Seattle transcended. It met the moment. It put its best foot forward, same as the triumphant U.S. men’s national team.

Or, as FOX Sports broadcaster Rob Stone said before Friday’s match, surrounded by a sea of unfiltered American euphoria outside the stadium: “I’ve never seen anything like this in American soccer. Thank you, Seattle.”

If you know Seattle sports — heck, if you know Seattle at all — then you knew this was coming. Because this city shook the same stadium while Marshawn Lynch broke nine tackles in a 67-yard incineration of the New Orleans Saints. This city rocked the foundations of T-Mobile Park when Eugenio Suárez’s 2025 American League Championship Series grand slam exploded into the right-field seats. This city set a tournament attendance record, spurring the Sounders to a shutout of Lionel Messi and Inter Miami FC in the 2025 Leagues Cup final. This city supports the Seahawks and Mariners and Huskies and Storm and Sounders and Reign, etc., with an emphatic fervor.

On Friday, this city swelled when Australian defender Cameron Burgess redirected a cross into his own net in the 11th minute, and again when Alex Freeman’s header extended the American lead to 2-0 before halftime. It serenaded coach Mauricio Pochettino and his team after a win that secured a spot in the knockout rounds, delivering a rousing rendition of John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”

For the U.S. men’s national team, which could return here in the round of 16, Seattle felt like home.

“Today, even if I am not American, after the game I was emotional,” said Pochettino, a native of Argentina. “Because I think it was amazing. The fans were amazing. The warm reception and the way they support us … they make it feel very emotional. (The players) are very emotional, too.

“I think it was an amazing and perfect connection, the energy from the stands to the team. I think that this makes us feel very proud. Because to connect with the people is what we wanted.”

In this country, a feeling of uncomplicated, unifying connection has been hard to come by. And in a city dominated by Democratic politics, where this president and his administration’s policies are widely disapproved of, unabashed patriotism is not always the norm. But on Friday, American flags were sold on the street. More hung from windows above neighborhood bars. And before the noon kickoff inside a sold-out stadium, thousands sang the American national anthem, then erupted in applause.

It was not a political statement. But it was a statement.

As FOX Sports color commentator Stu Holden said early in the second half: “Look, I was told this crowd was the 12th man. I’m going to say they’re the 12th, 13th, 14th man, (with) the energy and the sound in this building from the moment this team walked out.”

This is sports city. A soccer city. An American soccer city. A nationally underappreciated, misperceived, persevering diamond in the Pacific Northwest, at its best.

It has problems aplenty. It’s imperfect, like the occasionally tortured teams it supports.

But if you didn’t know this city? Or if you were misinformed?

What an introduction. I hope you know now.

I hope you witnessed the watch party at Pier 62, as fans overflowed out of the picturesque waterfront park connecting Pike Place Market to the edge of Puget Sound. I hope you admired the mountains stretching clear across Seattle’s skyline, while a bike taxi blasted Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” I hope you stood before the 25-foot LED screen stationed beside the London plane trees in Pioneer Square, or the fan barge floating in Elliott Bay throughout the tournament. I hope you put cream cheese on your hot dog; it’s better than you think.

I hope you felt our pride in this place, even if we don’t always show it. Cue the yellow cards.

I hope, for you, it felt like home. I hope you stay a while.

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