Maybe it takes an American of a certain age to understand that Panama should feel no shame in its World Cup results—three losses in three games, including that 6-1 pounding by England last Sunday. Someone who witnessed the United States’ showing in the 1990 Cup certainly can relate.

Back then, it was perfectly clear that the label “American soccer player” was an oxymoron, like “living dead” or “jumbo shrimp.” The Yanks had showed up at the Cup for the first time in 40 years with a collection of callow amateurs in a den of hardened professionals, in no way comparable to other Cup participants. And they immediately were humiliated by Czechoslovakia, 5-1, on the way to an 0-3 record.

It was a requiem for a lightweight and brought mocking headlines from the soccer-savvy Europeans. The newspapers in Italy, that year’s host nation, dismissed the Yanks as “poor kids, thrown to the massacre,” with a defense “made of butter.” (Only one other time in that tournament did a team allow 5 goals as the 1990 per-game average of 2.2 set the still-standing record for lowest in the 88-year history of the event.)

But here’s the thing: One of the U.S. players, Chris Sullivan, made the point right after being publicly humbled by Czechoslovakia that “we deserved this. But just remember: We’re the students here. Why not have the rest of the world read that 5-1 score and know that we’re the students of the game? We’re still learning.”

Yes, and now we have Panama’s burdensome trial in Russia, its first dance at sport’s biggest international party. Though not as soccer-challenged as that 1990 U.S. team, though boxing and baseball are more entrenched in its sports culture, Panama competes with a pool of talent severely limited by a population, 4.1 million, that is less than half that of New York City.

“When the coach [Hernan Dario Gomez] said we were coming here to learn, that is exactly what he meant,” said Panama’s 37-year-old captain Felipe Baloy, known as Pipe (Pee-pay). “We were coming up against world-class teams with great players.”

Baloy realized that, the final score aside, to have produced his country’s first World Cup goal late in that England match was “something big. We’re learning a lot. The result makes us sad, but the first goal is important.” It merely set off national merrymaking.

The newspaper Marca in Spain declared that “Panama found themselves in front of a cyclone, they came up against a deluge of goals and found themselves inundated.” Italy’s Gazzetta dello Sport called the game “not a match” but “an English stroll.”

In sports, of course, everyone is looking for a Rosy Scenario, something akin to the ideal romantic partner. But sometimes, you don’t have to win to win.

In 1990, a central character on the U.S. team, Tab Ramos, was 23 years old and devoid of professional experience. Immediately after he and his mates were taken apart by Czechoslovakia, Ramos’ thoroughly reasonable attitude was, “This is the greatest experience of my life. If I had to go through it again, just the same way, I would.”

Not signing any articles of surrender, that. Ramos recognized the expectations, that American soccer barely was crawling then. Sure enough, he wound up playing in two more World Cups as the Yanks grew into legitimate Cup actors—their failure to make this year’s tournament notwithstanding. Amid their run of six consecutive World Cups, they pushed to the quarterfinals in 2002.

So Panama lost three games and went home. What’s so bad about that? Its players, and its nation’s fans, got a front-row seat at the most watched sports event on earth. Of the 201 national teams worldwide, Los Canaleros—“the Canal Men”—were one of only 32 to make it to this summer’s big show.

“We qualified [for the World Cup],” Gomez said. “We have to celebrate that.”

Felipe Baloy got it. “The experience in Russia has been top-notch,” he said. “We hope that Panama can keep going. As a group, we’ve had a good coexistence in which we’ve spent time with younger players, who will stay with us.”

There is a verse in the Panamanian national anthem that, translated to English, goes like this:

Progress caresses your path.
To the rhythm of a sublime song,
You see both your seas roar at your feet
Giving you a path to your noble mission.

See you in 2022, Panama.