I stopped by the Getty Center yesterday and stood before Van Gogh's *Irises* — all that contained energy, every petal straining forward, and that is precisely how I expect Pulisic to play tonight, coiled and purposeful against a Paraguayan defence that simply cannot live with American pace on the flanks. Los Angeles roars for its own, and that collective surge of eighty thousand souls is worth a goal before the referee even blows the first whistle. Paraguay's midfield, marshalled by the gifted Almirón, will probe with intelligence, but Gatito Fernández will spend the evening collecting his thoughts between the posts as wave after wave breaks upon him.

At SoFi Stadium, the Americans enjoy a thunderous home advantage, and I think Pulisic — operating in a forward line that completely overwhelms Paraguay's attacking threat — will find the decisive moment that separates these two sides. Paraguay's defensive block, anchored by Balbuena and Alderete, is organized and disciplined, very much reflecting the pragmatic South American tradition of making themselves hard to beat, but twelve attacking sequences against zero tells me the pressure will eventually crack that wall. I attempted pan de chipa this week — that gorgeous Paraguayan cheese bread — and while it held together better than Paraguay's defensive line will in the second half, I expect a single, clinical American goal to settle this one.