My brother in law, Brian, sent the family group chat a reminder last week about not discussing any scores given the fact that he lives in Germany with my sister in law, Allison, and watch the games on delay the following mornings. My own brother, Greg, will be watching recorded games as well as attending island watch parties on Martha’s Vineyard where he coaches youth soccer. My Scottish friend and fellow futbol coach, Stuart, sent a text last night to my husband and me, “Watch party for Scotland Brazil game 6/24…the boys and I have turned the garage into a cinema and watching everything on a 12 ft screen.” An 11 year old girl shared with me how she would never forget watching in person at Gillette (also known as Boston Stadium for this World Cup) but that the game was so late; as tired as she was, she knew she could not and should not fall asleep with so much energy going on around her.

The World Cup. Where the World Comes to Play. We are the World. “Le monde entier”(2026 slogan to embrace continental unity). The irony is lost on us that our “North America Continental Unity” may actually be lacking politically. However, according to our world’s love of soccer, maybe it’s not so far off. The global futbol community is an impressive one, indeed, and as I watch game after game from my living room couch, grateful for a working TV, finishing my year as a school teacher last Friday, and enough perspective to balance the games I miss getting to watch due to actual life, I am reminded- simply- by how much I still love this game.

I love the precision with which each teams flags are unfurled at the start of each match. I love the way five referees lead the teams out onto the field from whatever tunnel at whatever stadium in participating UNIFIED North American continental cities. I do not love that the entrance to America was blocked for the Somali referee scheduled to work; but I do love that his entire contract was paid by FIFA. I especially love watching the little ones holding the hands of each professional player as they walk onto the field. That part actually makes me cry every single time. I imagine it’s some person’s job in each place to explain to the athletes that regardless of their pregame routines, their meditation, their stretching, their prayers, that they must take the hand of young, uniform clad athlete beaming up at them (the famous and less famous alike) and hold it until they form their semi circle for each National Anthem to be played. I wonder what they talk about in those moments with and without the camera watching. I wonder if those kids will remember those moments until they are good and old. Had I been11 years old and had the chance to hold Michelle Akers’ or Mia Hamm’s hand like that, I would have considered her my best friend forever.

I love listening to every country’s anthem and watching the athletes, coaches, and fans sing their own versions, whether quietly in their hearts or loud and proud, tears streaming down their faces. I love when the cameras zoom in on prime ministers or crown princes or princesses or presidents or Hollywood royalty there with their own children. I love the official broadcasters and their banter at half time or after the games finish. But I especially remember watching Alexi Lalas play in 1994 and being unable to imagine then that one day he would be 56 and announcing World Cup games.

I love their haircuts. I imagine the team barbers– is that even a thing in professional soccer? It must be because those cuts can’t be trusted on strangers. I love the outfits chosen by each coach, ranging from loose fitting long sleeve shirts and pants to fully tailored three piece suits. There are young coaches, who just finished their own playing careers seemingly months earlier, and there are coaches who seem old enough to be watching from their assisted living retirement community. Yet all of them are exactly where they need to be in these moments.

To be clear, I love watching the actual soccer– that which makes this a truly beautiful game. I still can’t get the image out of my head of Norway’s Haaland reaching an unreachable ball to score. His size making his speed so extra deceptively fast. I love watching the guys who are a little on the older side, yet still out there. I love watching small island underdogs tie worldwide international soccer powerhouses like Portugal and Spain. I love that Messi scored a hat trick and that Ghana won with just seconds left last night. I love watching the striking force of their shots on net. I love watching the heart and courage with which every goalkeeper from every country plays. I love watching the subs on the sideline warming up and wondering when and if they will get the coach’s call up to go in– and how exhausting it must be to just be ready at the ready for 90 minutes of play.

I may love the women’s World Cup maybe just a little bit more. I remember being a teenager and watching the US women play Ireland with many girls on my high school soccer team. Thank you to the parents who organized that way back when. While I was not bound for World Cup level soccer, watching them play elevated my own work ethic and desire to be better. I love that next week, when we gather in Michigan for Geoff’s family reunion, we will watch soccer together, multigenerationally– soccer and non soccer fans alike. I love that there will be heartbreak ahead as the teams dwindle down until there are only 16, then 8, then 4, then 2 and, finally, World Cup Champions. I love that soccer is infectious. Our community soccer pick up games every Tuesday and Thursday following the 4th of July will be packed with kids and adults wishing to play the beautiful game together on our school field, some wishing to get better, while some hoping to find a little memory of the game they played as kids. And, well, if the US ends up playing England on Independence Day, that seems like a great way to celebrate 250 years in addition to our North America Continental Unity.

PS. I really love this FIFA 2026 copywrited World Cup poster by artist: Rich Tu. To be clear, I’m not trying to pass this work off as my own, and I do not make any money from my blog writing– at least yet– so I’m trying to give proper credit where credit is due.