There's something about a sports film that makes it easy to forgive its unoriginality. We know our hero will have to struggle against physical, social, personal and economic obstacles that bring him to the brink of failure, but then he'll win the big game anyway and be carried away on the shoulders of an adoring crowd. But a good sports film will still have you rooting for the underdog all the way to the goal. As much as we want to cheer for the hero of Goal!, he loses the ball somewhere around midfield, but keeps running anyway.
At first, it's easy to root for Santiago Munez (Kuno Becker). He loves soccer so much, he almost gets nabbed crossing the border by INS because he goes back for his beloved ball. When he gets a shot at a tryout for Newcastle United in England, his father steals his plane ticket money to buy a pickup truck so Santiago can focus less on his dreams and more on one of those "Jobs Americans Won't Do." Plus, he has asthma, so even his own lungs are conspiring against him.
Eventually, he makes it to England, only to blow one opportunity after another. Fortunately for Santiago, this film has 10 times as many second chances as there are points scored in a typical soccer match. It isn't until about halfway through the film, when clumsiness and evil teammates conspire to deny Santiago his inhaler, that we go from sympathetically saying, "Come on!" to impatiently shouting, "Come on!"
This leads to one second chance too many, as a massive plot contrivance has Santiago's airport-bound taxi diverted to pick up the team's star player, who, despite his aloof and self-centered personality lobbies to get Santiago back on the team. After that, the movie sprints through every sports-film cliché in the book. Santiago becomes corrupted by the money just long enough to say he's learned his lesson. He gets into a fight with his best friend, who throws him out of the apartment they share, but is inexplicably forgiven by the next scene. His tryout buddy incurs an injury, and then we never see him again.
By the time the big game comes, we care about Santiago and his fate about as much as most Americans care about soccer. In other words, by the 90-minute mark, you may be anxiously wondering if you're missing a baseball game on TV.