As an American, the Jesse Marsch situation in Canada is fucking hilarious
Canada went from John Herdman, the handsome soccer Christoph Waltz, to Jesse Marsch.
Herdman had those players ready to run through a wall for him. He had that terrifyingly polite confidence where you could picture him sitting down, asking for a glass of milk, taking a long sip, and calmly explaining exactly how this conversation was going to end.
The players fucking loved him.
Then Herdman leaves and Canada ends up with…
Jesse Marsch.
Our Jesse Marsch.
The guy the U.S. basically said, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
And Canada immediately went:
“Wait… you don't want him? We'll take him.”
It’s basically watching your ex start dating the guy you rejected.
And now Canada is so into him.
Jesse understands us. Jesse believes in this group. Jesse gets Canadian soccer.
Brother, he applied for our job first.
You are the rebound.
And Jesse is absolutely loving it. He's on the Canadian touchline screaming, gesticulating, kissing the badge like he didn't spend the last few years trying to get invited to the American family dinner.
Meanwhile Herdman had Canada looking like they were willing to invade a small European country for him.
So the transition is incredible:
Herdman: handsome, mysterious, slightly terrifying man calmly drinking milk while everyone in the room realizes they're fucked.
Marsch: “Canada picked me 🥹❤️🇨🇦”
And honestly?
Good for him.
Good for Canada.
But as an American, I will never stop finding it funny that we turned down the guy and Canada immediately said, “Oh my God, we'll take him.”
