USA Soccer: Why Clint Dempsey Is the First American Soccer Player of His Kind

America is a country where sports are often chock-full of personal expression and exquisite creativity—think "Pistol" Pete Maravich of NBA fame decades ago, wending and weaving his way through opposing defenses with never-before-seen bags of tricks.

Or more recently, NFL running back Adrian Peterson smashing through opposing defenses (that is, when he's not leaving them stock-still after a dazzling cut-back.)

Or Colorado Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitzki defying gravity and all other forces of nature with his athletic defensive plays, not to mention his towering home runs.

Americans love ingenuity, and it is a trait with a lengthy athletic pedigree. Wherein lies the rub.

Soccer has never quite had its American Maravich, or Peterson, or Reyes. The more direct, "traditional" approach has long seemed preferred over individual displays of bravado. The individual becomes lost within the group.

Segue to Season Two of the acclaimed television series Mad Men, wherein advertising agency Sterling Cooper is plotting a merger with British firm Puttnam, Powell and Lowe.

Don Draper, creative director at Sterling Cooper and the character around whom the show revolves, is informed by superior Bert Cooper that the powers-that-be at PPL, while researching their soon-to-be subordinates, have become enthralled by what they deemed Draper's "unique form of American genius."

It was Draper's singular form of creative brilliance that so thoroughly captivated the Brits. He sees things differently than his contemporaries.

My mind shifted to that plot line (one of my all-time favorites) the other day as I re-read Melissa Segura's Sports Illustrated article about Dempsey in the run-up to the 2010 World Cup in South Africa.

Dempsey, coming off his third season with Fulham in the English Premier League, had firmly ensconced himself as the most recognizable Yank in world football. True, Landon Donovan had his own loan spell with Everton in spring 2010, but it's safe to say that the American No. 10 has not enjoyed the same success on the other side of the pond.

There's no denying that Dempsey provides a marked departure from many of his American soccer contemporaries—Donovan included.

As current LA Galaxy and former US national team coach Bruce Arena (he coached Dempsey at one point) summed up so brilliantly, "[Dempsey] tries s---."

He burst onto the international scene in 2006, when he was a surprise selection for the United States' 23-man World Cup roster in Germany and made waves when he scored a well-taken half volley against Ghana in the U.S.'s last game in group play (they would fail to advance out.)

It is that sort of genuine, inspirational, intrepid inventiveness that so distinguishes Dempsey and makes him such a puzzle within an American side that is often, for lack of a better word, boring. There have been remarkable results in recent years—the win against Spain in the Confederations Cup remains a highlight—but those singular successes have been overshadowed by maddening displays of ineffectiveness against opponents such as Mexico (2011 Gold Cup final) and Spain, who shellacked the U.S. 4-0 in a New Jersey friendly on June 6, 2011.

Like so many of his fellow teammates with the national team, Dempsey played on an elite-level traveling team in Dallas, but it was his participation in an adult league in his hometown of Nacogdoches, Texas that created the inimitable attacking threat. Dempsey's game is equal parts technical prowess and fearless daring. You're as likely to see him befuddle defenders with a quick stepover as you are to see him rise above defenders far taller than him (eg. Per Mertesacker during Monday's EPL match against Arsenal) and send a powerful header crashing towards goal.

A sense of bravado became stamped into Dempsey during those games in the Nacogdoches heat; it was an environment where any move that might be construed as "showing off" might lead to an introduction to a mouthful of turf.

In that kind of crucible, it was imperative to forge a steely demeanor unruffled by the fury swirling around him. Eat or be eaten, one might say.

Those two environments (elite club level and adult rec league) combined to forge the Dempsey we see today. It's interesting to wonder which he might credit more for his current success, but there is no mistaking how much he believes the latter aided him (see: Sports Illustrated article.)

It was Dempsey's iconic goal for Fulham against Juventus in a decisive 2010 Europa League match at Craven Cottage that made the biggest impression on me.

In the aforementioned article, Segura referenced the distinction between Latin American and North American (see: United States) philosophies of play.

Whereas in the U.S., talented kids are funneled into "organized soccer from an early age," as one often sees in Europe, in Latin countries, the game is first learned on the streets. In the latter environment, there are no set positions. A defender one moment might transform into an attacker if the situation calls for it.

It's one reason Brazilian defenders are such impressive technicians, and their side backs might as well be wingers.

It's why centre-backs such as David Luiz and Lucio bomb forward in attack with the intent of an attacking midfielder, or why Dani Alves and Maicon seem predisposed toward scintillating wing play.

From a young age, the players are steeped in a culture where personal inventiveness is not only fostered but encouraged. Many an analyst has noted that Brazilians are not given strict positions during their youth: each is simply trained as a footballer—with that sort of freedom, personal expression is given the chance to flourish.

I was introduced to this sort of culture during my time as a student in Paris. On weekends, a group of friends and I would journey to a hard court in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. In this fenced-in complex, five-a-side games went on from mid-morning to dusk. If your team won, you stayed on. If you lost...well, you get the picture.

It was in these games that I noticed just how important personal expression became. The French kids I played against executed quick step-overs and other bits of fancy footwork with consummate ease. They'd been doing it their whole life. I realized why the greater Paris area is often considered one of the richest sources of future professional talent—the Thierry Henry's, Kevin Gameiro's, Marvin Martin's, and Jeremy Menez's, to name a few. They grew up playing the game a certain way.

The French are renowned for their academies. Clairefontaine, the national training center, has a lengthy list of successful graduates, but many learn the game on the streets before entering that system. You see vestigial imprints of that formation in their play.

I would glance over at the basketball court adjacent to the soccer compound from time to time during a lull in play or when I was awaiting my next game. Sometimes a group of three or four would show up and shoot around or get a game of two-on-two going. But basketball's popularity drastically paled in comparison.

One thinks of the stars currently populating the NBA; many grew up playing pick-up games on the hard court, learning the game outside of a formalized setting. That's where the killer crossovers we so enjoy were honed on a daily basis; you can't imagine an academy coach teaching this move to former superstar and renowned dribbling aficionado Allen Iverson.

And so it was that I witnessed this feat of spectacular individual brilliance from Dempsey while consuming a pint in my favorite Parisien pub. Arena's words come to life in the span of seconds it took for that ball to find the net.

The shot itself, perfectly weighted as it lofted wonderfully before nestling into the side netting, was the sort of feat that careers are remembered for. It was one of the greatest goals I'd ever seen, and it wasn't the sort of technique or form that is taught on the training ground during shooting practice.

This was of the trick-shot variety, the kind that a kid tries out during a game with friends. I doubt many other American players, if any, could pull off a similar feat. Dempsey alluded to as much in Segura's article, claiming that if he took that shot 20 times, he would only make it once.

This was a genius all its own, inimitable just as Don Draper's work often is in Mad Men. "It's not just that not many American players would have tried to do that," said Sunil Gulati, the president of U.S. Soccer, in that SI article. "Not many players outside of South America would have even thought about it."

It is fitting that Dempsey has recently surpassed compatriot Brian McBride (who also plied his trade with Fulham at one juncture in his career) as the all-time American scoring leader in the EPL. Both are accomplished aerial threats, but it is encouraging to see Dempsey enjoy such success, even with his unorthodox (for an American) game.

Operating in the role of attacking midfielder for both club and country, he is content to roam behind a main striker. It is a position perfectly tailored to his creative bent: there, he can "try s---" without worrying too much about consequences.

Think of his low drive against England in the '10 World Cup—that ill-fated shot that sent Three Lions keeper Robert Green to the pub after his dreadful mistake. Not many Americans would have thought to attempt such a drive from 25 yards out. But Dempsey did, and it turned out wonderfully.

He was awarded the Honda Award in '06, a distinction voted upon by sportswriters and given to the top player on the U.S. Men's National Team. He recaptured the honor in 2011, unseating Donovan, who had won it four years running (2007-2010.)

The accolades have arrived, and they are particularly interesting when viewed in the national team context, where Dempsey's style frustrates as often as it "wows." The United States is renowned for a direct, counter-attacking approach that was so often employed by former coach Bob Bradley, who was let go this past summer in favor of Jurgen Klinsmann.

The square-peg-in-round-hole allusion notwithstanding (which one often felt Dempsey represented in recent years,) the Texan's creativity has often been seen as a welcome anomaly within the national team setup.

And with Klinsmann repeatedly exhorting a move toward increased personal expression on the pitch (to middling results thus far), it seems he may have finally found the coach who can help him flourish on the international stage. Time will only tell if that proves true.

You couldn't say he doesn't deserve it, at the very least.