Hey Marty, Doc Brown here. Back from the future this time. 2014 to be exact. Things are generally good there. Still no cure for that raging case of herpes though bud, sorry. I’ll keep looking.
Marty, what I want to talk to you today about is the future of the U.S. Men’s National Soccer team. Now, you don’t need a fancy sports almanac from the future to know the U.S. national team’s stock it rising, albeit gradually.
But, Great Scott, Marty! Did you know that by 2014 the U.S. will actually be able to contend for the most coveted trophy in the world? No, not the Nobel Prize for Physics, the freaking FIFA World Cup.
Now, using a formula I myself have already developed, tested and subsequently forgot when I hit my head on my toilet seat (don’t ask), I built the future U.S. World Cup team.
I used the strongest young players the U.S. has, or make that will have, to offer. I also inserted a couple playmakers with flair to make the team’s play as stylish as its uniforms (yes, you do detect sarcasm, Einstein).
The way I see it, if you’re gonna build an underachieving team into a contender, you have to do it like you would turn a time machine into a car: with some style! That’s why the 2014 U.S. World Cup team will be the DeLorean of squads.
Well, seeing as how the DeLorean was actually a complete failure, let’s just say they’ll be darn good and leave it at that.
We’ll play a 3-5-2 in 2014. Not because we want to, but because our Galactic Overlords require it. That’s a long story better left for another day though, Marty.
So here it is, the 2014 roster:
At the top, or the Flux Capacitor of the team, we have the U.S.’s two most dangerous future scoring threats. They are the key, Marty, otherwise I don’t know if we’ll be able to generate enough power to erase our long deplorable history.
Great Scott! Maybe I finally invented something that works!
The only question left now is how to generate the one point twenty-one gigawatts of power we are going to need to go back to the past and Terminator-style kill all the mothers of the future members of the Italian, English, German, Spanish, French…. oh, you get it Marty, every other future player for every national team. Can you imagine it?
Marty, don’t leave. It was a joke, a harmless…
It’s those damn Libyan Nationalists again! Run for it Marty!