It would be a gross falsehood, or to be kind, an exaggeration, to call me a soccer aficionado. I barely know enough to cover high school games, let alone the World Cup.

But you know, there’s an element of sports that is simply universal. For example, you really didn’t have to know too much to determine that the U.S. was getting drilled against Belgium Monday in the Round of 16.

The U.S. came out of the gate very tentatively, where it almost always got off to a strong start before. And Belgium was first to practically every ball.

Of course, none of this should have been any surprise. Belgium is one of the top teams in Europe. The U.S. isn’t in the same league. I’ve seen it so often, such as when baseball teams used to flail away helplessly against Max Scherzer back in the day; or when the Celtics would watch helplessly as Steph Curry lit them up like a Christmas tree. Resistance was futile.

That’s what Monday night was like to me. The U.S. never had a chance. When the Americans tied the game 1-1 midway through the first half, my cheers were because the U.S. would not be shut out. And sure enough, the Americans barely sniffed the net thereafter.

The game really brought me back to two years ago for the Summer Olympics in Paris against the host French men’s basketball team.

France was an up-and-coming team that many observers thought could overtake the U.S., even with the Americans’ usual collection of studs.

And for most of the game, it really looked as if France could hang in there against the mighty Red, White, and Blue. Then, Curry hopped off the bench and put his cape on. Before you could say “bonjour,” Curry had filled it up with four 3-pointers, while the French were trying to figure out what was going on.

One of those threes originated from somewhere near Omaha Beach, causing this observer, who was relaxing on the couch, to darn near take a header off said coach. It was the best moment of pure entertainment I’d seen in sports since Larry Bird and Dominique Wilkins went mano-a-mano in the 1991 NBA playoffs.

Ordinarily, it doesn’t get that entertaining in the Olympics, especially in basketball. But the French were legitimately good — just not good enough.

That’s the story with U.S. soccer. Decent. Even competitive. But not good enough.

With few exceptions, it’s been the U.S standing highest on the pedestal at the basketball medal ceremony. One was in 1972, when the officials royally botched the end of the game, giving the gold to the Soviet Union. Call it a fluke. In ’88, the last team of college kids lost to the Soviets. Four years later, the Dream Team was born and U.S basketball lapped the world once again. Only once since then, in Athens, 2004, have the Americans lost, with a roster that included LeBron James, Tim Duncan, Dwyane Wade, and Allen Iverson; and Larry Brown as coach.

The U.S. has only made it past the quarterfinals once in the World Cup (2002). In a good year, the Americans can make it this far before running up against a team with the necessary ingredients to beat them with one arm tied behind its back (well … it’s only an expression).

It’s difficult to take up a sport that isn’t really yours and try to compete consistently with those who have been playing it throughout their history. There is so much institutional knowledge these European and South American teams have — not to mention celebrity of the stars. They have their Pelés, Ronaldos, Messis and Mbappés. All soccer stars.

We have Bradys, LeBrons, Brunsons, and Tatums.