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Canada have the stars.

Alphonso Davies can burn a flank. Jonathan David can finish a half chance. Stephen Eustáquio can calm the midfield when the game gets too loud.

But none of that saves the goalkeeper from the loneliest job in the stadium.

One back pass. One cross through traffic. One rebound sitting in the six yard box. That is where Canada’s summer can turn from dream to panic in one second.

Dayne St. Clair brings form and shot stopping. Maxime Crépeau brings experience and scars. Jesse Marsch has to choose the keeper who does not just make the save, but ends the whole sequence.

Because at home, every mistake sounds bigger.

Every catch feels like oxygen.

Canada do not need a goalkeeper who survives the moment.

The USMNT has energy.

That has never been the issue.

Tyler Adams can hunt danger. Weston McKennie can win ugly balls. Yunus Musah can carry through pressure. Gio Reyna can see the pass before the stadium sees it. Christian Pulisic can drag a dead attack back to life.

But a World Cup midfield cannot live on rescue missions.

That is the problem. The U.S. does not need one Jude Bellingham style savior. It needs a real system where every job connects: Adams protects, McKennie attacks at the right time, Musah breaks the first press, Reyna or Tillman links the next pass, and Pulisic receives high enough to hurt defenders. The article frames the midfield as a rotation that needs role discipline before tournament pressure turns small flaws into scars.

Running is not the identity anymore.

France’s attack is not short on danger.

That is not the problem.

Mbappé can scare a defensive line by standing near it. Dembélé can break a full back’s balance. Olise can pass through gaps most players do not even see. Mateta can make the box feel crowded and uncomfortable.

But somebody has to connect all of it.

That is the hole Griezmann left behind. Not just goals. Not just reputation. The little pass before the sprint. The half turn between midfield and attack. The quiet decision that turns chaos into a real chance.

France cannot let everything shrink into “find Mbappé and hope.” That makes the attack smaller, not scarier.

The false nine problem is really a trust problem.

Who gives up the shot?

Who drags the defender away?

Germany can pass teams dizzy.

That is not the fear.

The fear is one cheap foul, one late runner, one crowded box and one ball dropping where nobody wants it. That is how a match changes without warning.

Mikel Merino’s Euro 2024 header still sits in the room. Germany had fought back, found belief, then lost the night on one late cross and one tired defensive detail. That kind of goal does not disappear. It becomes a memory defenders carry into every corner kick.

Group E can test that nerve again. Curaçao only needs one free swing. Côte d’Ivoire can turn the box into a wrestling match. Ecuador can make the second ball more dangerous than the first.

That is the brutal thing about set pieces. You can own possession, control tempo and look like the better side for 85 minutes.

Then one restart asks: are you awake?