The record shows that the United States won the first-ever FIFA Women’s World Cup in 1991. Michelle Akers’ goal to make it 2-1 over Norway in the final came in the 78th minute. That would indicate that the Americans won the first world title of any U.S. soccer team—men’s or women’s—after a 12-plus-minute defensive stand to close out the full 90.

None of those things are exactly true. And very few Americans know, because very few Americans actually saw it happen.

“Some could argue that that the journey of women’s soccer began in the mid-'80s. Others have it popping up when Alex Morgan or Abby Wambach popped up,” says April Heinrichs, a starter on the U.S. team in 1991 who is now Development Director for U.S. women’s soccer. “In reality, the 1991 World Cup was kind of like a silent trigger.”

Let’s start with the most basic of facts: in 1991, the U.S. women didn’t win the World Cup. That’s not what the tournament was called. Back then, before women’s soccer became a money maker, the competition was known by an epic mouthful of a title: The FIFA Women’s World Championship For The M&Ms Cup.

Why M&Ms? Because Mars candy, which makes M&Ms, was the tournament’s sole corporate sponsor. FIFA only applied its sacred “World Cup” branding to the event after the success of the premiere, and the 1991 edition was renamed in the record books.

But at the time, it was clear that even though the tournament provided an opportunity for female players to compete like their male counterparts, the governing body didn’t think they played quite the same game. In planning the tournament, FIFA gave serious consideration to having the women use a size-four ball—a smaller sphere typically only used in youth games —instead of the standard size five used in the mens’ tournament. More important, a size five was all the players on the U.S. women’s team had used for most of their lives.

That discriminatory idea may not have stuck, but a few others did.

“I remember an enormous amount of attention being paid to how much jewelry we were wearing,” says Heinrichs. “You couldn’t wear a ring, couldn’t have anything at all, which was fine...even though at the time the men were wearing more jewelry than we were.”

FIFA also shortened the time of the games to 80 minutes, separated into two 40-minute halves.

“They were afraid our ovaries were going to fall out if we played 90!” says Heinrichs.

If the intention of the 80-minute match was to “make things easier on the ladies,” then the event’s compressed scheduling completely undid that misguided idea. The U.S.’s run to the final involved playing an incredible six games over 13 days. The team never enjoyed more than one day off between contests. This, after many players travelled across the world just to get to China for the tournament.

“Goodness gracious, the girls can’t last 90, and yet we played every other day in a country where you couldn’t eat any of the food or you’d have diarrhea constantly,” Akers says. “It was harder than any tournament a man would ever play.”

If any team in the tournament was physically prepared to handle it, it was the United States. And if any player best embodied that attitude, it was Akers.

The first time current U.S. coach Jill Ellis saw Akers play, they stood on opposite fields with their youth clubs in the 1984 under-19 national championship game. Standing 5-foot-10 with a signature mop of wily, curly hair on her head, Akers stood quite literally above the rest.

The 5-10 Akers, with her signature mop of curly hair, was a unique presence in women’s soccer of her time—a relentless attacker on the field who imposed her size and power on any game she was in.

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“During player introductions they said she was an All-American, and I didn’t know what that was at the time,” remembers Ellis, who was born in England and moved to the U.S. in 1981. “Then Michelle trots out and she was just so tall and imposing. My buddy and I turned to each other and were just like, Whoa.”

That physical presence combined with a legendary on-field ferocity. Normally a central midfielder, Akers would scrap doggedly for loose balls. She would press forward and power headers toward goal. Often, she could win her teams games thanks to sheer physicality.

So it made sense when Akers was called in to the very first women’s national team in 1985, scoring the first goal in the team’s history in its second game. But the team still struggled internationally until Anson Dorrance was hired as its head coach.

Dorrance had built a women’s soccer powerhouse at North Carolina by emphasizing extreme competitiveness and physical play. Often, his teams won games thanks to sheer physicality. The match in philosophies between coach and player could hardly have been better. Of those called in to the first women’s national team squad in 1985, Dorrance only took two to the 1991 World Cup. Of those two, only Akers became a starter.

Coach Anson Dorrance, who had built a women’s soccer powerhouse at North Carolina, took over the U.S. women’s team and instilled a philosophy of sheer physicality. Akers would be his model player.

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“Michelle was a role model to all of us,” says Carin Jennings-Gabarra, who played alongside Akers and won the Golden Ball as the best overall player at the ‘91 World Cup. “She cared so much about making sure she left every ounce of effort on the field...there were times when even Anson had to tell her to take it down a notch because she would just go so hard all time time, to the point to where she would risk injury.”

Dorrance populated the national team largely with players from his North Carolina program, including the central midfield duo of Shannon Higgins and Kristine Lilly. Akers, a natural in the center of the park, was moved to the unfamiliar role of target forward. It didn’t take long for her to excel there, as the head of a three-pronged attack along with Heinrichs and Jennings-Gabarra. The Chinese press referred to it as the “triple-edged sword,” And Akers was probably the sharpest edge.

The Americans stormed their way through the tournament, rattling off multi-goal wins including a 7-0 shellacking of Chinese Taipei in which Akers scored five goals. Waiting for them in the final would Norway. A world championship, the first world championship, was on the line.

The U.S. and Norway had laid the foundation for one of the sport’s legendary rivalries years before that historic final. The countries played each other seven times in various contexts, with the U.S. winning three and losing four. But the teams’ two meetings in the lead-in to the ‘91 cup were especially disappointing for the Americans—they lost both, at home.

“We hated Norway. We always hated them,” says Akers. “They were good, they were tough, they were bitchy, they talked smack. I hated them, but it was fun. I loved hating them. It was great. For me, the more I hate them the harder I end up playing.”

The game had all the trappings of a major event. National anthems were sung, Pele greeted the teams before kickoff, and 60,000 packed the stands. It was the most fans the majority of the players had ever performed in front of, though, as Heinrichs remembers, “it was a remarkably quiet 60,000.” A grueling run of games was coming to a close.

“We were a quality team, but we were starting to tire,” remembers Jennings-Gabarra. “There was a lot of stress and emotion built upon those games before. Still, we expected to win, we expected to dominate physically.”

The teams traded goals off free kicks in an even first half, with Akers scoring the first for the United States in the 20th minute, and the Norwegians netting their own nine minutes later. Akers doesn’t remember much about halftime, other than a lot of yelling in the locker room. But on the way back out on to the field, she remembers being approached by goalkeeper coach Tony DiCicco.

“He put his arm around me and said ‘Mich, you’re gonna have to win the game,’” she says. “It wasn’t said like it was encouragement. It wasn’t ‘C’mon, you can do it.’ It was one of those truths. Inside, it struck me. Like ‘Yes, I am gonna have to win this. I know. Why didn’t that occur to me?!’”

From there on, Akers hunted down every chance she could. Every loose ball, she pursued. Every time the U.S. brought the ball upfield, Akers fought for position to receive it.

“In a World Cup final, you’re already nervous,” Heinrichs says. “Now just imagine that escalating through the entire game.”

As the clock ticked toward the game’s final seconds, Akers’ hunting instincts paid off. Higgins attempted a long, lofted ball from midfield, hit with too much power for any U.S. forward to run on to. Norway defender Tina Svensson intercepted the ball. In the vast majority of games, that would have been the end of the move. Clearly, the ball belonged to the Norwegians.

“No,” Akers thought, still in full-on hunting mode. “I think I can get it.”

Almost as soon as she had taken the ball, Svnesson had Akers barrelling down upon her back. Svensson attempted a back pass to her goalkeeper Reidun Seth, just as Akers slammed into her right shoulder. Bad idea. The pass fell short of Seth, who was now dangerously off her line. Akers continued her locomotive charge, taking a touch past the helpless goalkeeper. Out of a nothing play, all that stood between Akers and the winning goal in a World Cup final was a six-yard patch of grass.

“At that point,” says Jennings-Gabarra, “it just felt like everything was in slow-motion.”

This wasn’t a simple tap-in. Akers had just finished a lung-busting run, and the ball had fallen on her weaker left foot. Her angle on the goal became more acute with each passing millisecond. The ball rolled toward the endline and Seth began a frantic retreat to her goalmouth. Altogether, it was far from an ideal spot to slow and consider the options.

But that’s exactly what Akers did.

“I remember thinking ‘No, I better cut this back and pass it in with my right foot, so I have as much of the goal as I can,’” she says. “To me, it didn’t happen in slow motion. I took a deep breath and just kinda…did it.”

The ball rolled over the line in the 78th minute. A mere two minutes later, plus stoppage, the United States became women’s soccer’s first world champions.

“You try and keep that composure all the way up to that last ‘n’th of a second, so you put the ball where you want it,” says Akers. “And then once that is done, then you explode.”

Cameras surrounded the U.S. team as they celebrated their victory, hooping and hollering and jumping uncontrollably around one another. The images conveyed pure jubilation -- the kind that translates no matter what the sport is. But as far as most of the U.S. knew at the time, those cameras weren’t there, and nothing important had happened.