There was a time—increasingly long ago, but still—when Christian Pulisic seemed to have been bestowed upon American soccer from the sport’s divine powers. After debuting for the U.S. men’s national team on March 24, 2016 as a seventeen-year-old, he scored his first international goal hours after attending his high school prom. He was the gift that beleaguered fans of the USMNT had been waiting for, a midfielder with unlimited potential who played as if possessed by a bolt of lightning.

“It’s been a dream of mine to play for the U.S. national team,” he said after his first USMNT game. “It finally came true.” For soccer fans, the feeling was mutual. What a contrast to today: even though most soccer fans would happily trade places and a lot more to be their national team’s star and captain, Pulisic acts annoyed, grumpy, and guarded in the role that he’s had for years. Even legendary apex predators like Michael Jordan and Tom Brady enjoyed themselves every once in a while. Pulisic, however, resembles a moody teenager now more than he did when he was an actual teen. Ten years after his debut, his particular role in this team, and in American soccer more broadly, has grown complicated, just as America’s relationship to the rest of the world has. 

You could argue that the role of “American soccer star” is a unique one. The platonic ideal is rare, but not complex: Dazzling skill and charisma are prerequisites. Good looks are a plus. But most importantly, they need a missionary’s zeal for popularizing in America what is already the world’s game. We’ve had great players like this in the past, but they came too soon: apple-pie Americans and the mainstream media weren’t ready for, say, Landon Donovan the way they now are for Pulisic. What terrible luck, then, that America’s most talented player ever wants little to do with any of that. As ever, when it comes to American soccer, fans rarely have things their way. So it goes with Pulisic, who has shown more of a knack for inciting outrage than he has for generating excitement—off the field, at least.

There is no doubt that Pulisic can still be electric with the ball at his feet. He has risen to the occasion often, and is expected to do so again at this summer’s World Cup. Off the field, however, things get interesting—or not, actually. An autobiography published in 2022, much of which was filled with photos, and a nine-part docuseries by Paramount+ a year ago were both astonishingly bland; their only revelations were how uncomfortable Pulisic feels under the spotlight. He’s at least open about this: he seems genuinely baffled as to why soccer fans want to know anything about him, and has also been open about seeking therapy for mental health.

Witness Pulisic’s rare unscripted public displays, however. He angered fans and the U.S. soccer establishment last summer by sitting out of national team duty a year before the World Cup, citing tiredness, then responded to criticism from Donovan—who accused the winger of not taking his international responsibilities “seriously” enough—by complaining about being criticized and recruiting his dad for support in the public spat. In press conferences his body posture is almost uniformly defensive. His tone is condescending. He acts like he’s headed to a dentist appointment. It’s rarely easy to watch. He responds to innocuous questions about World Cup pressure from the mild-mannered domestic media corps with simmering angst. “You guys all want me to feel the pressure, that’s for sure,” he said in March, before reassuring reporters that, actually, he welcomes it.

The only other times he’s revealed his cards, they have been, of all things, divisive political gestures. Shortly after George Floyd’s murder, he “liked” an Instagram post—yes, this feels stupid to write, but he gives the public little else to go on—from Seth Jahn, a racist former Paralympic soccer player, that invited “antifa” members to, for lack of a better term, fuck around and find out (so Jahn could shoot them). Shortly after Trump was reelected in 2024, Pulisic scored a goal for the USMNT and Trump Dance-d in celebration. It was the happiest he’s looked in a while, at least when playing for his national team. Fox News and other conservative media outlets, which have been hostile to soccer in the past, actually took note of his Trump impression.

In the context of sports stardom, what are we to make of all this? His teammates have rolled their eyes at the suggestion that their star and captain is fascist; Gen Z, of course, leans more conservative than older generations. And anyway, pro athletes are notoriously conservative, and live in a thick bubble starting from a young age. Could he simply be performing for his own demographic? 

It sure seems that way. But as Trump hijacks this World Cup for his own ends, just as he’s done with the presidency, the role of USMNT captain and star should require more from Pulisic. It’s a chance—no, an obligation—to unite the nation. The president also famously disdains the media and much of the outside world. Does that sound familiar? How’s that currently working out for Trump?

Shortly before his death in 2022, Pelé said: “Our biggest duty as athletes is to inspire. Inspire our teammates of today, the next generations, and, above all, everyone who loves our sport.” Sure, this came naturally to Pelé. What a shame, then, that Pulisic, who is more than capable of succeeding on the field, seems openly hostile to the larger role that is being asked of him, one he is better suited to in many ways than any American before him, at such a perfect time.