An American Born in Wisconsin Could Knock the USA Out of Its Own World Cup

On the last day of March, in the city of Zenica, a 21-year-old winger from Appleton, Wisconsin stepped up to take the most important penalty of his life. Esmir Bajraktarevic had spent his childhood in the United States, learned the game in an American academy, and worn the crest of the United States youth national teams. But the shirt he wore that night was the red and yellow of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and the kick he was about to take would send his parents’ country to a World Cup while knocking out four-time champions Italy. He scored. And now, three months later, the team he chose may be the last thing standing between the United States and the round of 16 at its own World Cup.

The United States topped Group D and booked a knockout date at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara on July 1. The numbers make Bosnia and Herzegovina the overwhelming favorite to be waiting there, with bracket projections putting the chance of that matchup at better than 99 percent after the Bosnians beat Qatar 3-1 to clinch a third-place finish in Group B. On paper, it looks like a kind draw for the hosts. Look closer, and the story gets complicated in a way that should make every American fan slightly uneasy.

The one who got away

Bajraktarevic’s path runs straight through the heart of American soccer. He was born in Appleton in 2005, the son of parents who had fled the Bosnian war that began in 1992 and arrived in the United States in 2001 as part of a refugee program. He came up through the New England Revolution academy, signed with the club, and spent 2021 to 2023 developing in its system. He played in the United States youth setup from 2022 to 2024, the conveyor belt that is supposed to feed the senior national team.

Then, in the summer of 2024, he made his choice. FIFA approved his switch to Bosnia and Herzegovina, and a player the United States had developed became an opponent the United States may now have to beat. He has never sounded conflicted about it. “The decision for me was very easy,” he said in 2024. “It was something I knew I wanted to do since I was little. It was just a process that took a while. I’m very happy I made it. There’s no feeling like representing your country.”

His country, in his own words, is the one his parents carried with them across an ocean when they had lost almost everything else. That he repaid it by scoring the penalty that ended Italy’s hopes and sent Bosnia to the World Cup is the kind of story that does not need embellishing. For the United States, it is a reminder that the global talent pool the program has worked so hard to tap can flow in both directions, and that a player raised in Wisconsin can end up wearing the other team’s colors on the biggest night of the summer.

A team that should not be underestimated

The temptation for American fans is to look at Bosnia’s third-place finish and see an easy afternoon. That would be a mistake. Bosnia and Herzegovina did not stumble into this tournament. They reached it the hard way, surviving a playoff path that eliminated two of European soccer’s heavyweights. In the semifinal they knocked out Wales, and in the final they took on Italy in Zenica, drew 1-1 after extra time with Italy reduced to ten men, and won the shootout 4-1. Italy, winners of four World Cups, will miss the tournament for a third consecutive cycle. Bosnia took their place.

Their group stage in North America underlined the same quality. They opened by holding co-hosts Canada to a 1-1 draw in front of a hostile crowd, refusing to fold under the noise. They lost a tight game to Switzerland but recovered to beat Qatar 3-1 when they had to, the mark of a team that knows how to manage a tournament. Coach Sergej Barbarez has built a side that defends in numbers, stays compact, and trusts its experience to find moments at the other end. This is not a team that beats itself.

The 40-year-old at the center of it all

And then there is Edin Dzeko. The captain turned 40 in March and is still the focal point of everything Bosnia does going forward. He is the country’s record scorer with more than 70 international goals, a figure no teammate comes close to, and he played in Bosnia’s only previous World Cup appearance at Brazil in 2014. His header in the playoff against Italy was clawed off the line and turned in for the equalizer that kept Bosnia alive. Twelve years after his first World Cup, he is leading his nation at what is almost certainly his last.

For Mauricio Pochettino’s United States, Dzeko presents a specific kind of problem. He no longer covers the ground he once did, but his hold-up play, his reading of the box, and his ability to bring others into the game remain elite. American center backs Chris Richards and the rest of the back line will need to defend him without giving away the free kicks and crosses that he feeds on. A 40-year-old who has spent two decades scoring against the best defenders in Europe is not a comfortable assignment for any team, let alone one carrying the pressure of a home World Cup.

What it means for the hosts

The United States arrived at this tournament with a clear goal: use the home advantage, the familiar stadiums, and the energy of a country waking up to soccer to go deeper than any American men’s side ever has. Topping the group was the first box checked. Christian Pulisic missed time with a calf problem and watched his teammates win without him, a sign of the depth Pochettino has been building, and his return for the knockouts gives the hosts their most dangerous player at exactly the right moment.

But the knockout rounds are where home World Cups are either made or quietly ended, and the margins are unforgiving. A single goal, a single mistake, a single set piece nodded in by a 40-year-old captain, and the dream the country has been selling for years could collapse in 90 minutes in Santa Clara. Bosnia have shown across this cycle that they are comfortable in exactly these games, the ones where they are written off and have nothing to lose.

There is a poetry to the matchup that will not be lost on anyone who knows the backstory. The United States built a program designed to keep its best young talent at home, and one of those talents, a kid from Appleton, may stand across the halfway line in the other team’s shirt when the whistle blows. If Bajraktarevic gets on the field at Levi’s Stadium, he will be playing against the country that raised him, in the country that raised him, for the country his parents never stopped calling home.

A test the hosts cannot take lightly

For all the talk of a favorable draw, the smart read is that this is a trap dressed up as an opportunity. Bosnia and Herzegovina are battle-tested, well-coached, led by a legend in his final act, and motivated by a story that runs deeper than tactics. The United States have more talent and more support, and they should win. They should also remember that Italy thought the same thing in Zenica, right up until a young man from Wisconsin stepped up and ended their tournament before it began.

The dual-national tightrope

Bajraktarevic’s case is not an isolated one, and that is part of what makes it sting for American supporters. The modern game is built on players with more than one footballing home, and the United States has been both a beneficiary and a casualty of that reality. The program has convinced talents like Folarin Balogun, born in Brooklyn and raised in London, to commit to the red, white, and blue. It has also watched players slip away to the countries of their parents and grandparents, drawn by heritage, identity, and the simple human pull of where a family comes from.

U.S. Soccer cannot win every one of those battles, and officials privately acknowledge as much. What the Bajraktarevic decision highlights is how fine the margins are. A player can spend years in the American system, wear the badge at youth level, and still feel that his true allegiance lies elsewhere. There is no villain in that. Bajraktarevic chose the country that took his parents in as refugees and gave their story a future. It is hard to argue with a 21-year-old who looks at that history and decides he wants to honor it on the world stage.

The cruel twist for the United States is timing. Of all the players the program has lost to other nations in recent years, few could have imagined that one of them would resurface as the decisive figure in the very playoff that shaped the American knockout bracket. Bajraktarevic did not just leave. He helped build the obstacle now sitting in the hosts’ path.

How the United States can win the game

Tactically, the route through Bosnia is clear enough even if executing it is not. Pochettino’s side will have the ball for long stretches, and the key will be patience against a team that wants to sit deep and counter. The United States cannot force the issue early, gift Bosnia the set pieces and transitions they crave, or let frustration creep in if the breakthrough does not come quickly. Pulisic, fresh and motivated, is the difference-maker who can unlock a packed defense, and Balogun’s movement up front offers a different kind of threat than the one Bosnia faced in their group.

The discipline at the back is just as important. Keep Dzeko quiet, defend the box on crosses, and avoid the individual error that decides tight knockout games, and the talent gap should eventually tell. Lose concentration for ten minutes, and a team that beat Italy on penalties will happily take the game to extra time and a shootout, where logic and reputation count for nothing. The United States will be favored. Whether they are ready for the fight Bosnia is certain to bring is the question that will hang over Santa Clara until kickoff.

WRITTEN BY

Jarrod

Jarrod Partridge is the Founder of Futbol Chronicle and an accredited journalist with over 30 years of experience following international football. A member of the AIPS International Sports Press Association, Jarrod has covered matches at stadiums around the world, bringing first-hand insight to every match report, player profile, and tactical analysis he writes.

More articles by Jarrod →