Right, right. There was a game yesterday against Poland. Of the game itself there’s nothing worth saying that Kasey Keller didn’t say in this one sentence: “Good teams win 1-0, and we did that today.” So let’s move onto the important stuff.

No, I’m not talking about Dave O’Brien. Although, I do agree he’s an insult to American soccer fans. Nor am I talking about Marcelo “life of the party” Balboa. Although, he truly is the most boring man on Earth.

I’m talking about snow. You know, that cold white stuff that falls from the sky.

I’ve seen some soccer games in the snow over the years. The Revolution vs MetroStars playoff game was the last one, but the snow in that game wasn’t anything like the blizzard we witnessed for portions of yesterday’s match. You know it’s serious weather when they bring out the high visibility ball!

The game against Poland was the first time I’ve ever seen one of “my” teams plugging away on the snowy field. Perhaps that’s what made it so clear: I love watching soccer in the snow. That was great! I didn’t want it to end. Yes, by any objective standard it was a lousy game, a terrible game. But I loved every snowy second of it.

I see a lot of belly-aching about MLS aligning itself to the FIFA calendar because it’d almost certainly require a wintrier schedule. Even if MLS adopted a split schedule and took a break in the deepest of deep winter, there’d still be a good number of games played in cold, (hopefully) snowy conditions.

It’s likely true in those winter months the summer supporters and the sunshine fans will, in the cold, shrink from the service of their teams.

Still, we should not fear the cold and the snow and whatever else nature’s wintry fury might hurl at a soccer field. (I do confess some fear of freezing rain. That stuff sucks.) No, the time has come for American soccer fans to embrace winter’s challenge.

The benefits go far beyond the drama and novelty of soccer in the snow. It’d certainly force MLS to sell long sleeve jerseys. And we’d finally have genuine use for our scarves. And I haven’t even mentioned how playing in the snow would help dispel that persistent soccer is for sissies canard.

Once all the stadiums are built and MLS truly controls its own schedule, I hope we see a lot more of the beautiful game in dreadful weather.

I had been thinking about writing a bit about Houston 1836 (we hardly knew ye) ever since they announced the name change. It was going to be a glorious excoriation of MLS and my favorite topic: unrivalled incompetence. I even had a great title in mind: San Houston 1836 ClashQuakes. And that zinger of an opener: “Somewhere in San Jose a Quakes fan is laughing.” It was going to be great; it was going to be brutal.

But whenever I sat down to write it I found I had nothing to say. That all changed last night when some startling allegations appeared on everyone’s favorite soccer message board. John Ellinger claimed he heard Peter Nowak yell a racist remark at a black RSL player. Peter Nowak and DC United both deny any such remark was made.

It was the second time in recent days that Major League Soccer found itself under the cloud of racism.

The Nowak allegations were met with horror, and it seemed that all quarters agreed, if the remark was made, then Nowak’s days at DC United would and should be over.

The news that Houston 1836 would change its name under pressure from sponsors and the Mexican immigrant community was met with very widespread (though not universal) anger and resistance.

In a word, the reactions were totally divergent. I’d like to offer an observation about that.

The cultural current of American soccer all tends in one direction: toward the broadest possible acceptance of all kinds of people. People from all over the world. with all sorts of ethnicities, were vital to the history of the game in this country. And there is no doubt in my mind the future of the game in this country lies largely with new immigrant communities and with wider development of the game in racial and ethnic communities. To be sure, the current doesn’t always reach its goal, and it sometimes encounters obstacles along the way. Still, the entire thrust of the cultural current of American soccer flows toward openness and the greatest possibly inclusion.

Save one persistent stream that runs in the other direction.

There was certainly some Texas pride involved in that anger and resistance concerning the 1836 name change. But I think there was something else too. American soccer fans have a special relationship with Mexico. That relationship has been cultivated for years. It’s been cultivated on both sides of the border, and it’s a decidedly unfriendly relationship.

Had the Houston moniker been widely offensive to all Latinos, or to blacks, or any other racial or ethnic group I suspect you would have seen much more consistent condemnation of the name as soon as it was announced. And I suspect a name change would have been met with relief and applause, not anger and resistance.

I can only speak first hand about the USA-Mexico relationship from my perspective on this side of the border. Nowadays we think of ourselves as up and comers on soccer’s world stage. But before that we were up and comers in CONCACAF. And before that we were CONCACAF doormats. Mexico was the regional giant; Mexico was the yardstick by which American soccer measured itself. For a very long time it seemed beating Mexico was our singular ambition.

Then it happened. In 1997 we tied them at Azteca. A few years later it was the Cold War victory. Then the most glorious of all: 2-0. I can’t help it. I swell with pride when I remember those games. Sometimes I even have to wipe away a tear.

Animosity towards Mexico - on the soccer field, anyway - is an entrenched part of American soccer culture. Even the silliest of things – the FIFA ranking – is bound to rile up American soccer fans if the USA is ranked lower than Mexico. You’ve heard it before: “We keep beating them! Why are they still ranked ahead of us?” (Actually, as I write this they’re tied with us. Good chance we finally surpass them next month. It’ll be about time if we do.)

Even Major League Soccer has played the USA vs Mexico game. Perhaps the only thing more symbolic of Mexican soccer than the Mexican national team is Chivas. I know, Chivas USA was an attempt by Major League Soccer to bring some Mexican fans into the league. But it was also clearly an attempt to bring to MLS some of the drama of the USA vs Mexico match-up that American soccer fans find so compelling. Admit it: you too chanted dos a cero during that Chivas USA game.

I well understand why MLS decided it necessary to change Houston 1836’s name. But I must admit I am among those who wish it could be otherwise. There is a certain bond between those numbers - 1836 and 2-0 - that appeals to that recalcitrant, unrepentant American soccer fan in me, the fan who relishes our rivalry with Mexico. That bond is exactly why the name had to go. I understand. But I still wish 1836 could take the field. And, yet, I am also among those who, if the allegations prove true, would call for Nowak’s dismissal.

It’s an interesting contradiction, a contradiction I suspect I share with many American soccer fans.

Back in 2002 Ray Hudson was asked to comment on Taylor Twellman before DC United hosted the Revolution at RFK. “He’s a poacher,” Hudson replied. “I’m not too worried about him to be honest. I don’t have too high a regard for Twellman. I think he’s a poacher and that’s it … I don’t see him as a special player at all.” United prevailed in the game, but they had to fight from behind after Taylor Twellman put the Revs up with two goals in two minutes.

Now, after years of struggle at the international level, Twellman finally tore it up against Norway. Problem is it’s simply too easy to discount the game. It wasn’t just that it was the Norwegian u-23 team with a few older guys evidently along for vacation, it’s that the Norwegian team was just plain awful. Sure, the US fielded a bunch of third-stringers, but even our third-stringers were light years ahead of Norway.

Was Ray Hudson right about Taylor Twellman? Let’s just say, for now, I remain firmly unconvinced about Twellman on the international stage. He’s a great MLS player, but is he, as Hudson put it, a special player? It’s pretty hard for me to take the hat-trick against Norway too seriously. It certainly didn’t qualify him as a special player in my eyes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to have a guy on the national team that’s capable of putting up numbers the way Twellman does in MLS. And if Twellman turns into that player then it’s fine with me. But nothing says he’s that player yet - that includes last weekend’s hat-trick.

I don’t remember much of those days long past when it seemed like the only source of timely soccer information in the United States were those old guys of ambiguous ethnic extraction who hung out down at the corner.

Yes, I’m sure they had great information, and I’m sure those “when I was a boy we didn’t have old guys to tell us about soccer” stories were really first rate. But the development of my appetite for soccer news happily coincided with the development of the internet. Let’s face it, the internet is a big improvement over a bunch of creepy old guys.

While I don’t remember much from the “dark ages” when US soccer fans had to scrape together information from whatever irregular sources they could manage, I do remember those early days when the growth of the internet sparked something of a soccer enlightenment in this country. Email lists. Can you imagine!

Today I think we’re quite used to seeing the USMNT on television. But back in the day national team telecasts were a rarity. Until the internet there often wasn’t any way to follow the game in real time. I can remember “watching” matches on the internet even before MatchTracker. You had to hit refresh manually! And all you got was the score.

Streaming audio was a major breakthrough, and I can remember listening to World Cup qualifiers on the internet. Often the broadcasts weren’t even in English. Today fans would be up in arms about such a thing. And they were certainly up in arms back then too. (Some things never change.) But, at least after we sobered up and calmed down, we could admit it was something of a miracle that we could follow a game on the internet in real time at all.

So here I am following the USA play Canada in a friendly down in San Diego. It’s not on TV. But I’ve got my streaming audio – in English, no less! And I’ve got my BigSocer in one window, and I’ve got my AIM chat in another.

It’s just like old times.