The USWNT vs CanWNT friendly revealed a painful truth

The match was a reminder that team Canada needs to choose action over talk

The friendly between the Canadian and American women's national soccer teams resulted in a decisive victory for the U.S. (Canada Soccer/US Soccer Federation/Wikimedia Commons/Diego Minor Martínez)

The friendly between the Canadian and American women’s national soccer teams resulted in a decisive victory for the U.S. (Canada Soccer/US Soccer Federation/Wikimedia Commons/Diego Minor Martínez)

There are losses that sting, and then there are losses that force you to interrogate every assumption you’ve held about progress. For the Canadian women’s national team (CanWNT), their 3-0 defeat to their American counterparts, USWNT, in Washington, D.C. on July 2 was the latter.

On paper, it was a summer friendly, a “measuring stick” match under new head coach Casey Stoney, intended to expose weaknesses safely before Olympic qualifiers. In reality, it revealed a painful truth — grit and structure alone won’t bridge the gulf to the top. That gulf felt wider than ever.

The U.S. scored all three goals from set pieces: a free kick, a corner, and a throw in. Soccer player Sam Coffey opened the scoring in the 17th-minute after Rose Lavelle’s delivery caused chaos in the box. Claire Hutton doubled the lead before halftime, heading in unmarked. Yazmeen Ryan sealed the 3-0 win late, converting a long throw-in routine. As Jordyn Huitema put it afterwards, conceding three goals from dead-ball situations was “disappointing and unlike us.”

But it wasn’t just the set pieces. It was the lethargy, the hesitancy, the misplaced passes that short circuited every attacking rhythm. The U.S. dominated possession (66 per cent–34 per cent), shots (22–7), and even expected goals. Visually and statistically, Canada looked half committed to competing.

Stoney didn’t sugarcoat anything. “Talk is cheap,” she said post-match. “We can keep talking about winning the World Cup …. Or we can actually put things into action.” Her words felt almost parental — not scolding, but cutting through excuses to reveal the truth.

She called the performance “inexcusable,” adding her players “looked two yards short on everything.” They executed a game plan that wasn’t theirs, sending in aimless crosses despite specific instructions to build centrally. They lost duels, failed to press effectively, and lacked commitment and desire — an uncharacteristic but telling indictment.

What struck me was her emphasis on fitness and club minutes. “Every single one of their players is starting every single week for their clubs,” she said. “I have a problem: my players aren’t. Some of them are out of season, which it showed, and not playing enough minutes for their clubs, so that needs to change.”

Her solution was blunt — “Get playing or you won’t get picked.” It’s harsh, but necessary. Canada has been stuck in a semi-generational transition for half a decade, half reliant on veterans, half experimenting with youth. The U.S., meanwhile, has seamlessly integrated its next generation into a winning culture, using their 2024 Olympic gold momentum to refresh their squad.

But it isn’t just a youth problem. It’s a culture problem. The U.S. plays with a sense of inherited expectation — not arrogance, but certainty. Canada plays with hope, sometimes with desperation, often with admirable grit. But hope and grit don’t beat confidence honed under pressure, nor do they replace club minutes and tactical sharpness.

I think of Emma Regan and Holly Ward, thriving in the Northern Super League with AFC Toronto and Vancouver Rise. Their sharpness reflects regular, meaningful minutes. Meanwhile, many veterans looked leggy and off the pace. The game is evolving too quickly for name recognition to suffice.

Stoney knows this. Her honesty wasn’t frustration — it was vision. “We want to try to build toward 2027; we need to be a hell of a lot better than we were tonight.”

As someone who has watched the CanWNT’s rise and stagnation over the last decade, I’ve often hoped chemistry could bridge technical gaps. This match was a rude awakening — chemistry alone won’t cut it anymore.

Yet, there’s hope here, too. Progress is rarely linear and never comfortable. It demands honesty and decisions that hurt in the short term to build something worthy in the long run.

The friendly was painful to watch as a Canada supporter. But maybe, just maybe, this harsh reminder is exactly what they needed to choose discomfort over mediocrity and action over talk.