“The World Cup is ruining my life,” a neighbor recently said with a laugh. “I’m supposed to be working; instead I’m watching World Cup. I’m supposed to be doing chores; instead I am watching World Cup.”
I laughed in guilty recognition. We had met on the street by chance while I was walking the dog. Having just spent the last two hours watching, then celebrating Lionel Messi’s hat trick during Argentina’s first-game victory over Algeria, I had less than an hour to get back in time to watch Austria play Jordan.
That was on Day 6, and it’s only gotten worse. If I had to calculate my own ratio of work done to soccer watched … well, as I am not a sports reporter, I don’t think my editor would be thrilled. (Though I’m sure she appreciated the England/Congo updates I provided as I finished this piece.)
Like millions worldwide, my family and I have been deeply, and in our case, weirdly, engrossed in this year’s games. “Weirdly” because we do not follow men’s soccer. The World Cup is different, of course — going in, I figured I would check out the U.S., keep an eye on Messi, then tune into the final few games. Perhaps my husband would join (but only if he at least pretended to understand the offside rule), but with our two oldest children out of the house, it is, with the exception of the Super Bowl, unheard of for our family to concurrently view any sporting event in real time.
Until this World Cup. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but suddenly we’ve got game times written onto our calendar. Entire days have been spent in front of the TV with at least one child and the others watching from their homes, our family texts studded with “are you watching…?,” “did you just see that?” and, of course, “OMG MESSI!”
(I would attempt to calculate my recent ratio of chores done to Messi videos watched if I weren’t legitimately concerned that my family would have me committed.)
The fact that my son and his girlfriend live in Kansas Citycertainly helped spark our newfound fascination. Yes, Los Angeles is also a host city, but L.A. hosts so many things; inevitably we were mostly concerned about what it would do to the traffic. KC, on the other hand, is the smallest and most unlikely of the host cities, and over the last few years we have seen — on visits and through my son’s accounts — all the construction, effort and can-do spirit that has gone into preparing for the event.
We were thrilled when it was announced that Argentina, England, the Netherlands and Algeria would be based in or near KC. We wanted the city to shine, and it has — from nearby Lawrence’s enthusiastic adoptionof Algeria to Messi’s historic hat trick at Kansas City Stadium.
But it’s more than vicarious Midwestern pride. When our older daughter began texting out missives from the earliest games and our son sent pictures of fans streaming into Kansas City Stadium, we started watching as a way to stay connected.
First, as a family, and then to our country and the rest of world.
The games have been inevitably exciting, especially as now that they’re in the knockout round, but the overall sensation was unexpected relief, a soul-soothing balm.
At a time when the news cycle seems to serve up nothing but conflict, crisis and woe, the World Cup offers shelter, a truly international event in which conflict is defined by long-term sports rivalries and questionable referee decisions.
We want our national or preferred teams to win, of course, but no matter the outcome, it’s impossible not to be thrilled by the sight of phenomenal play, underdog tenacity and so many adoring and enthusiastic fans.
Soccer is called the beautiful game for many reasons, and hours/days/weeks of sustained beauty is impossible to resist. Even social media has surrendered to spectacular highlights along with tales of Japan supporters cleaning up stadiums, fans of the victorious consoling fans of the defeated and Europeans discovering the glories of free refills and ranch dressing.
None of this changes the realities we face in America and the rest of the world. Grocery and gas prices remain catastrophically high; Iran continues to contradict U.S. claims of diplomatic resolution to an unpopular war. The unnecessarily revamped reflecting pool in Washington remains a swamp of algae and tourist arrests, as the semiquincentennial struggles under the weight of our president’s self-centered hubris.
But for a few blessed weeks, the World Cup offers inspiration, escape and cultural healing.
It has also, thus far, escaped President Trump’s so often internationally insulting social-media notice and more importantly, his presence. Historically, the leaders of host countries attend the opening match; Trump has, apparently, been too busy (including planning and attending the UFC Freedom 250 cage match recently held on the South Lawn.)
Given his tendency to suck the oxygen out of any room (like his recent reception at Game 3 of the NBA Finals in New York), it’s definitely for the best. If nothing else, the World Cup has given us a chance to take a break from politics and talk instead about Messi, France’s Kylian Mbappé, England’s Harry Kane and all the amazing goalkeepers, including Cape Verde’s now-iconic Vozinha.
Never before have I so understood the therapeutic power of sport.
Who wouldn’t want to at least take a break from rising measles cases, the latest federal or Supreme Court decisions and primary tea-leaf readings to lose themselves in a game where exquisitely patient passing suddenly bursts into spectacular feats of speed and footwork? Where a well-defended ball can suddenly become a goal with a nearly undetectable flick of a foot, or a perfectly placed shot blocked by a goalie’s incredible ability to launch into space? Where an outcome that seems assured can be overturned in the final minutes to the collective roar of an international cast of thousands?
Like many Americans, I have been occasionally embarrassed by the World Cup’s exposure of my world-geography ignorance — I know where Bosnia and Herzegovina lies on a map, but until recently, I couldn’t place Cape Verde, Curacao or, if I’m being completely honest, Cote d’Ivoire.
Isn’t it wonderful, though, to have a reason to reacquaint yourself with a world map that isn’t related to war, natural or man-made disaster or economic and political tension? The current U.S. administration may seem to be at odds with just about everyone, but visiting World Cup fans are here to remind us of all we share, beneath our crazy wigs and face paint, our cheers, groans and chants.
And we, as hosts, have shown them that America is so much more than the sum of our current government’s policies and posturing.
Watching all this happen, in real time, has been magical, miraculous and magnetic.
Not every moment, of course. Various visa issues created unnecessary and embarrassing drama; high ticket prices and transportation issues were blamed for empty seats at some of the early games. Members of the Iranian team and its coaching staff criticized the way they were treated (though the team left a handwritten note in the dressing room of Los Angeles Stadium, thanking L.A. for its hospitality). The controversial hydration breaks, and the extra commercials they accommodate, can be irritating (though when it’s close to 100 degrees in many stadiums, quite necessary). And though it didn’t matter in terms of standing, watching the U.S. lose to Turkey wasn’t much fun for American fans (though the Turkish exuberance was pretty infectious).
Overall, the 2026 World Cup has done exactly what it was supposed to do: create, in this country, a stage for the finest teams and players in the world’s most popular sport and, more important, carve out five weeks in which we can all spend a few hours removed from the political and cultural divisiveness that threatens to define us.
It’s space in which we can cheer, gasp and leap out of seats along with our families, friends and all the millions we will never meet but to whom we are connected all the same.
Now if you’ll excuse me, the next game is about to start.
The post Thank you, World Cup, for providing the connection and inspiration Americans so desperately need appeared first on Los Angeles Times.
