Enjoy the World Cup While It’s Here
From Stanford Stadium in 1994 to Los Angeles in 2026, a lifelong reminder that the World Cup is about far more than soccer.
The World Cup is the greatest sporting event in the world and unless you happen to be able to attend the European Championship or the African Cup of Nations, it’s a fair distance to the second. A bold declaration, I know, particularly coming from a guy who didn’t learn the game on gravelly lots with taped-up balls. I even call it soccer (unless I am with those as passionate as I am who call it football). I wasn’t given an Arsenal (or Barcelona, or Bayern Munich, or Juventus) shirt at birth, and I didn’t have a father or big brother who influenced my support.
Truth be told, I am a fan of almost all sports. I don’t watch them all weekend or anything like that anymore, but I will find myself glued to Olympic curling as much as the Masters golf tournament, all exciting in their own way. But soccer is different to me. You can pick up the game in about five minutes and, if you can run, you have the basic requirements to play. A book could be written about all the crazy, life-impacting experiences I have experienced around the beautiful game, but I’ll cut to the chase.
In 1994, the father of a girl I was going out with asked if I would take him to the World Cup. All I had to do was drive; he would take care of everything else. Sounded good to me.
We attended Brazil’s opening game at Stanford Stadium against Russia. We got there three hours early because I was assured that the environment would be special. El Camino was blocked off and there were Brazilian women in… not very much… hugging people and dancing with police officers. Upon entering the stadium, you could feel the energy as it was filling and when a slow roar became deafening, I realized the Brazilian team, El Seleção, was coming to the pitch for warmups.
They entered the field of play in a chain, holding hands, and the place erupted. These were their heroes, Romário, Leonardo, Bebeto, and Dunga, all in the flesh. I won’t bore you with the details, I’ll just say it was the most electric sporting event I had ever been to and it made me the passionate supporter I am to this day and will be until my dying day.
I was there on the famous Fourth of July game when the plucky United States faced the mighty Brazil in a knockout game. We hung tight until Brazil finally broke through and won on their way to the World Cup title that year. I don’t recall being too disappointed, but rather proud of our boys for putting up a fight and going toe-to-toe with the best in the world.
Now that the World Cup is back in the United States again, I am excited to be going to a couple of games in person and following the rest on TV and in the Quail City Soccer group chat, where we discuss everything from the infamous hydration breaks to our picks in the coming games. If you have followed this year’s tournament, you are undoubtedly aware of the made-up Peace Prize, a referee not being allowed into the U.S. for the tournament, and even Iran’s national team not being able to stay in the United States despite having games here. And that isn’t even bringing up the ridiculous price of tickets.
Even taking all of that into account, I find myself kind of romantic about the game and the tournament. You have a German tourist, Freddy, touring Southern states and documenting his experiences on his way to cheer on his beloved home team. Along the way, he discovered Buc-ee’s, country singer Ella Langley, and Bass Pro Shops, but even more so the hospitality that many forgot we had.
You may have seen the Japanese fan experiencing chips and salsa or the Koreans experiencing friendly banter by having “Gangnam Style” played at a restaurant where they were eating. To their credit, they laughed along with everyone else and even did the horse dance. It’s moments like this that remind us how much we really have in common and that, at our best, we aren’t all that different.
I saw several red, white, and blue-clad Americans interviewed and asked their opinions about how the Iranian national team would be received in Los Angeles. To a person, every one of them said they hoped the team would be welcomed with open arms, that they were athletes, not politicians or soldiers. I might be soft-hearted, but these are not inconsequential things to me. At its best, this game builds bridges.
I have a friend who made an offhand complimentary comment about Turkish club Beşiktaş and it went viral. He received team merchandise and seemed destined for Turkish citizenship. That’s just how it works with this sport. We will banter (generally friendly put-downs) with our opponents’ supporters, but that doesn’t mean we can’t welcome them to our tailgate before a game.
There is a good chance I’ll be seeing Spain play in Los Angeles. As part of my preparation, I am brushing up on my Spanish, learning the names of all the players (most I already know), and even boning up on my Spanish geography in case I happen to be sitting next to some Spanish fans or run across any during my adventure.
I do want my USMNT to do well, but that won’t keep me from cheering when a team like Curaçao scores against four-time champion Germany or from jumping on the Tartan Army bandwagon. The Scottish know how to throw a party.
For those of you who have not yet experienced a World Cup, I hope you have the opportunity to see a game live or at least attend a watch party. They are everywhere. In my humble opinion, you too just might find the beauty in this incredible game.