Christian Pulisic’s night against Turkey was a microcosm of everything this U.S. team is: electric, fragile, and utterly unready to be judged on 90 minutes that don't count.
The first 45 minutes were a masterclass. Pulisic ripped through the Turkish defense like a hot knife through butter, setting up a goal and nearly scoring another. The crowd in Cincinnati ate it up. The pundits started polishing their superlatives. For a half, the USMNT looked like a team that could hang with anyone.
Then the second half happened. Turkey adjusted, the U.S. midfield went missing, and the lead evaporated. 2-2. Another friendly that started with promise and ended with questions. If you've followed this team for the last decade, you've seen this movie before.
But here's the thing nobody wants to admit: friendlies are bullshit. They're glorified scrimmages. The result doesn't matter. The performance doesn't matter. What matters is whether Pulisic and company can do it when the lights are brightest—when the World Cup knockout rounds are on the line.
Pulisic has been here before. He knows the drill. The question is whether his supporting cast has grown up enough to let him be the star, not the entire show.
The First Half Was Perfect—Until It Wasn't
From the opening whistle, Pulisic was on a mission. He dropped deep, picked up the ball, and drove at defenders like a man possessed. In the 23rd minute, he slipped a pass through three Turkish shirts to set up a clinical finish. The stadium erupted. For a moment, the narrative was set: Captain America had arrived.
But football is a game of adjustments. Turkey's manager, Vincenzo Montella, made a tweak at halftime, pushing his fullbacks higher to pin back the U.S. wingers. Suddenly, Pulisic was isolated. The service dried up. The midfield, which had been so crisp, turned sloppy. And the backline—still the team's Achilles' heel—conceded two soft goals.
This pattern is maddeningly familiar. The U.S. plays well for a half, then fades. It happened against Germany. It happened against Brazil. And now it happened against a Turkish side that didn't even qualify for the World Cup.
But context matters. This was a warm-up game, not a war. Gregg Berhalter made seven substitutions in the second half, breaking any rhythm. The game plan was clearly about fitness, not results. No manager in his right mind shows his full hand in June.
“Friendlies are like preseason football. You're not trying to win the Super Bowl in August. You're figuring out who can play when it matters.” — Gregg Berhalter, post-match presser
Berhalter's right. But that doesn't excuse the defensive lapses. If the U.S. gives up two goals in a World Cup knockout game, they're going home. Period.
Pulisic's Burden: Too Much Talent, Too Little Help
Here's the uncomfortable truth about Christian Pulisic: he's a world-class talent trapped on a team that still can't get out of its own way. At AC Milan, he plays alongside Rafael Leão, Theo Hernández, and a midfield that can actually keep possession. With the USMNT, he's often asked to do everything—score, create, track back, and fix the midfield's structural issues.
Against Turkey, he did his job. The problem was everyone else. Weston McKennie had a quiet game. Yunus Musah was solid but unspectacular. And the fullbacks, Sergiño Dest and Antonee Robinson, were caught upfield repeatedly, leaving the center backs exposed.
You can't blame Pulisic for that. You can't ask him to be Messi and Beckenbauer at the same time.
But the narrative will follow him anyway. Because that's what happens when you're the face of a nation's hopes. Every mistake is magnified. Every quiet game becomes a referendum on your legacy.
Pulisic seems to understand this better than most. After the match, he didn't make excuses. “We have to be better in the second half,” he said, his voice flat. “That's on all of us.” No deflection. No blame. Just accountability.
The Real Test Starts Now
The World Cup group stage draw puts the U.S. against England, Iran, and a playoff winner. It's a group they can win—and a group they can lose. If Pulisic shows up, the U.S. has a chance. If he doesn't, they're cooked.
That's not fair, but it's true. This team rises and falls with its captain. Against Turkey, we saw both versions: the superstar who can unlock any defense, and the frustrated playmaker trying to do too much.
The friendly season ends here. Next stop: the World Cup. Pulisic looks ready. The question is whether the rest of the team can match his intensity when the stakes are real.
If they can't, all the pretty first halves in the world won't matter.
