How the Media and U.S. Soccer Made the Hope Solo Story Even Worse

Hope Solo hasn't made life easy for the U.S. Soccer communications staff since her first appearance in 2000. She arrived in the shadow of the '99 team and has been furiously trying to escape it since, whether through outright conflict with veterans of that era or through her trademark Twitter rants. There have been many references this week to Solo's statements in 2007—after being benched in favor of Briana Scurry in the World Cup semifinals and a subsequent 4-0 loss to Brazil, Solo said "[Starting Scurry] was the wrong decision. And I think anybody that knows anything about the game knows that." Up until now, that was the worst PR crisis the team has ever faced.

The fresh crisis is over Solo's two charges for misdemeanor fourth-degree assault and the bizarre false equivalency being made by some media members between Solo and the NFL's recent deluge of domestic violence cases. But as many have countered this week, Hope Solo isn't Ray Rice or Adrian Peterson or Ray Lewis or Michael Vick, or any other NFL player who has faced significant legal charges.

Two misdemeanor counts of fourth-degree assault pale in the face of this database of NFL arrests since 2000 compiled by U-T San Diego, which has 734 entries. There's no version of current events in which U.S. Soccer is comparable to the NFL. And while Hope Solo is no Mia Hamm, she's perfectly OK with that, even if no one else is.

Still, Solo's broader reputation has lingered with fans, with the media, and likely even still with U.S. Soccer. In her memoir, Solo details her refusal to sign off on a canned apology written by a U.S. Soccer staffer back in 2007. She notes, without much sympathy, that the press officer nearly cried. Her legal problems only stir those associations up.

She has chafed her entire career against the single-minded portrayal of the squeaky-clean, heteronormative, girl-next-door image that U.S. Soccer has marketed since 1999. Her reluctance to match her image to that of her team has made her an easy scapegoat.

So, here are the ingredients that have added up to a domestic violence case that is actually drawing attention away from the NFL: a mainstream national media that has never reported consistently or robustly on the women's national soccer team, an ongoing debate within the U.S. women's soccer community about the lack of goaltending talent beyond Solo, and a USWNT communications department that is wildly unprepared for negative attention. We're left with a tidy diversion for the NFL and an epic, confusing mess for any supporter of the women's national side.

Unlike the NFL, which has dealt with criminal charges of all shapes and sizes for years, U.S. Soccer has no track record to point to, whether it be positive or negative. This especially goes for the women's side, where iffy marketing campaigns or spotty roster decisions count as negative attention. While U.S. Soccer staff may be accustomed to Solo's Twitter antics, the media pile-on of the past few days is unlike anything anyone inside the sport has ever seen. We're talking about a team that has never been compared on any front to the NFL. In fact, most U.S. Soccer communications staff bristle when comparisons are made to their own men's team.

Much like the NFL, although on an infinitely smaller scale, U.S. Soccer hasn't made the right moves from a public relations standpoint. Before her first game since the arrest, on August 20, U.S. Soccer released a statement touting Solo's chance to break Scurry's all-time shutout record as a reason she should be playing.

When Solo didn't keep a clean sheet in the August 20 game thanks to a penalty kick, the federation merely restarted their engines and promoted the next friendly on September 13. After an 8-0 pounding of Mexico, Solo was the sole possessor of the shutout record and was named Budweiser Woman of the Match despite having little do in net. For September 18's friendly against Mexico, the coaching staff named her captain in the usual manner awarded to any player celebrating a major milestone.

September 19 should have been a day of regurgitated press releases and fans fretting over a shaky midfield performance and an anemic attendance number from the night before. But that was the day the Hope Solo=Ray Rice false equivalence train left the station with a blog item in the Washington Post. U.S. Soccer was suddenly being judged on the same standards as a juggernaut that raked in over nine billion dollars in 2013. And it was everywhere.

By September 22, Sunil Gulati, the President of U.S. Soccer, was cornered enough to release a statement, a choice that may have only extended the story's life cycle. Gulati reaffirmed the decision to allow Solo to play until the resolution of her court case, and stressed the "deliberate and thoughtful approach" U.S. Soccer has taken since June.

For a team that lives and dies by hashtags and their enormous young female audience, the decision to play Solo didn't match the PR modus operandi. And it certainly hasn't pleased the court of public opinion. However, as it so often does, the court of public opinion has made mistaken poor decision-making for a systemic issue, and placed Hope Solo in company with men who knock out and threaten to kill women.

Jennifer Doyle of The Sports Spectacle got it right when she asserted that the positioning of Solo as the other side of the Ray Rice story leads to a conclusion that "the media's relationship to women itself is violent." There is no other conclusion to draw when a woman is pulled into a Gotta Hear Both Sides debacle that ends with her as a face of domestic violence in sports.

Still, U.S. Soccer could have and should have done a better job of handling this from a team standpoint and a PR standpoint. The decision to not suspend Solo was the correct call considering the details of her case, but in light of the NFL media maelstrom, it should have been obvious that it was only a matter of time until someone finally put two and two together. Solo could have still been rostered or called into camps, but Solo reaching the shutout record should have been tabled. The goalkeeper pool for the U.S. national team is deep, and many other players could have earned minutes while Solo attended to her "personal matter."

For a team that markets itself as role models for young girls and little else, U.S. Soccer should have skewed conservative on the PR end from the start.

A follow-up article from Post writer Terrance McCoy, a foreign affairs reporter, posted on September 23 only highlighted how far the conversation has been sidetracked. In fact, the first version of the article linked to a Twitter search that consistently produced the results of a set of leaked private photos, which only served to further dehumanize Solo.

Tuesday evening, Hope Solo posted a statement concerning the photos and violation of her privacy, and once again denied any wrongdoing:

"While I understand that the public desires more information regarding the allegations against me, I continue to maintain my innocence against these charges. And, once all the facts come to light and the legal process is concluded, I am confident that I will be fully exonerated."

Solo and the U.S. women's national team next face World Cup qualifiers, which are likely to be a mere formality for the number one team in the world. The time for benching Solo has passed. She should and will play in these games. At best, her continued presence on the team may further the discussion about the nature and quality of coverage of the women's game. At worst, she will remain a contrived deflection for the NFL and the media to exploit. Unfortunately, which scenario is destined to play out remains an open question.