Where are you from? could be a multiple-choice question for some players at the World Cup

Deciding what country to represent not always easy

JOHANNESBURG — Pick a country, any country. Better yet, pick two.

National pride can be a complicated thing at the World Cup. While most players are representing the countries where they were born, others — for various reasons — are like U.N. ambassadors. One Boateng brother plays for Germany, the other for Ghana. Algeria’s Hassan Yebda won an Under-17 world title with France. Winston Reid is a Kiwi by way of Denmark. Stuart Holden was born in Scotland and still has a U.K. passport, yet now wears the colors of the United States.

“Moving to the States at 10 and becoming ingrained in the culture and considering myself an American — obviously, I still have that Scottish tradition and culture that I’ll never forget,” Holden said. “But being able to represent the U.S. in a World Cup is something that is really prideful to me, and something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.”

Switching allegiances is nothing new in sports, soccer in particular. Joe Gaetjens, who scored the only goal in the United States’ monumental upset of England in 1950, was from Haiti. Alfredo di Stefano, one of the game’s greatest players, played for Spain and Colombia as well as his native Argentina. Ferenc Puskas, the mightiest of Hungary’s “Magical Magyars,” finished his international career with Spain.

But soccer isn’t like the Olympics these days, where nationalities are about as hard and fast as rubber bands.

According to current FIFA rules, players with dual nationalities are free to switch sides at any age — so long as you haven’t appeared in an official game (think World Cup or European championship) with a senior national team. Make an appearance, even if it’s just for a few minutes, and you better know the words to that country’s national anthem because you’ll be hearing it for the rest of your career.

That means Holden can’t decide in a year or two that he would rather play for Scotland. But the Berlin-born Kevin-Prince Boateng was free to become a Ghanaian because he’d only played on Germany’s youth teams.

(There’s a loophole for new countries. If Kosovo is ever formally recognized by FIFA, for example, Switzerland’s three Kosovo-born players — Valon Behrami, Albert Bunjaku and Xherdan Shaqiri — would be eligible to play for their homeland.)

“My heart is always in Kosovo,” Behrami said at the 2008 European Championship. “I always wear the Kosovo colors. But I am on the Swiss team, and when I play football I wear the Swiss colors.”

Cynics will say that players — and teams — are shopping for the best opportunities, and no doubt some are.

The World Cup is the pinnacle for any top-level player, and it’s a lot easier to get here if you grew up in, say, Denmark, than soccer-mad Brazil, where above-average talent won’t even get you an invitation to a youth camp.

National federations, meanwhile, would be shortsighted if they didn’t go after talented players who have a connection to their countries, regardless of how tenuous. A spot at the World Cup means big bucks — a minimum of $9 million this time around — and no advantage is too small to ignore.

Think it’s a coincidence that Algeria was behind the measure to end an old rule requiring players to pick a country before they were 21? Of Algeria’s 23 players in South Africa, 17 were born in France. Most played on French youth teams.

“It’s a business,” said Marcelo Balboa, who admits he would have had a tough choice if Argentina, where his father’s country, had expressed interest in him before he’d played for the United States. “The options and the rules aren’t being broken, they’re just being explored.”

But there are more personal, heartfelt reasons for country-swapping, too.

Cacau moved to Germany from his native Brazil to escape poverty, and playing for Germany was his way of paying back his adopted country for the opportunities it gave him. Mesut Oezil, coveted by both Germany and Turkey, said his choice was “never a question.” His parents are Turkish, but he was born in Germany and said he felt German.

Ditto for Sebastien Bassong, who was born in Paris and played on France’s youth squads.

“Even though I was born in France, my heart beats for The Lions,” Bassong once said. “There are no two ways about it: I’m Cameroonian.”

Holden was born in Aberdeen, Scotland, and went to games at Pittodrie and Hampden Park when he was a kid. Eoin Jess, who scored two goals in 18 appearances for Scotland from 1992-99, was at his birthday party when he turned 7.

But Holden moved to the United States when he was 10 (his late father, Brian, worked for Chevron), and quickly found himself Americanized — right down to his Texas twang.

While Scotland seemed to have no interest in him, the United States definitely did. He made 11 appearances at the Under-20 level, and would have been part of the squad for the 2005 world championship if he had his U.S. passport. Holden and his family all became citizens in 2006, and he was part of the U.S. team at the Beijing Olympics.

A few months later, U.S. coach Bob Bradley called him up.

“It was a no-brainer for me. I didn’t think about it for a second,” Holden said. “It’s a decision I made, and a decision I’ll never look back on.”

And it’s decision his younger brother, Euan, might have to make, too. Euan Holden plays for Vejle in Denmark, where Scottish officials have been keeping an eye on him.

“I’ll never push him one way or the other,” Holden said. “I’d love to play with him. And if I’m playing against him, I’ll give him a big kick.”

AP Sports Writers Ronald Blum, Graham Dunbar, Nesha Starcevic and Tony Harper contributed to this report.