World Cups

And where to find them

As a kid, if you’re lucky, you get a legendary summer or two. Months that summed to more than just bored afternoons in the summer heat. Memories so good you can almost return to them.

For me, that was the summer of 2010.

My friends and I passed the days in backyard pools, popsicles in hand. We passed the nights in basements, watching movies, or in cars, driving around a city we thought we owned.

For no reason, we all wore the same outfit — white v-necks and cargo shorts. It felt like the uniform of big high school chillers. Recession pop was all the rage, and the rabid melodies insisted that life was great and meant for partying.

We were about to be seniors in high school and the world felt like it was ours. In early July some of the gang drove to Colorado and backpacked up a 14,000 foot mountain. It felt like we had conquered the world.

But Summer 2010 would merely have been a very good summer were it not for one thing:

The 2010 World Cup.

It was my first World Cup experience and still stands out against all the rest.

The persistent buzz of vuvuzelas. Still the best World Cup song. Even the ball, the Adidas Jabulani, lives on in World Cup lore. Emphatically spherical, players and goalkeepers complained that it was unpredictable. NASA studied it and determined that because it was truly so goddamned round it was especially susceptible to wind.

From the opening match, I was hooked. Something about the spectacle, the fact that literal countries were competing with one another. With the free time of a high schooler, I stayed plugged into the entire competition.

Even while climbing the mountain, my friend Felix and I powered on our flip phones and stood on the edge of a cliff to obtain a trickle of cell service. Why? To find out if Spain had defeated Germany.

On the first day of the tournament, I bought the Spain jersey for one of my favorite players, Cesc Fabregas, then a month later I found myself wearing that jersey as I watched Spain win it all, beating the Netherlands in an aggressive, box-to-box final. Fabregas got an assist for the winning goal.

That summer cemented my love of soccer.

Then in 2014, I had the good fortune to intern at a cable TV company. It was a dogshit place to work after college, but as far as summer jobs go, it was pretty optimal. I drank beer and lived out of a hotel room that was paid for and spent weekends hiking mountains. And during the actual workday? I was an intern. A dumb kid. Wasn’t much that needed to be done. Most days, my peers and I whittled away the hours watching the World Cup on our work laptops. Again, it was a TV company. Watching TV was expected. Yet again, a great summer defined by the World Cup.

And as Smash Mouth said, the years start coming, and they don’t stop coming.

2018.

Then 2022 (with its phenomenal final).

Now here we are again.

Hello old friend.

Since Thursday, I’ve watched at least a game a day. I’ll tune in for a second half here, a first half here. Saturday was more footie than anything else.

When you’re plugged into the World Cup, it’s like living in a different version of society. One that takes daily life a little less seriously. One that feels a bit more connected. I get a little jolt of happiness when I see someone out in the world wearing a jersey.

FIFA, of course, is corrupt as hell. (Shout out to Declan McKenna’s Brazil, written about FIFA and then-President Sepp Blatter.) America even more so. This tournament is comical in its grubbing, ghoulish nature, with the players made to play in the North American heat and the salve of hydration breaks offered largely as an opportunity to run commercials in a game that normally presents in two uninterrupted, 45-minutes halves. (Also the hydration breaks are mandatory, even when played in air conditioned stadiums, if that tells you anything about the incentivees for them.)

Players and officials alike have been made to deal with disgraceful treatment.

It’s a grim spectacle but still, forever, a beautiful game.

As I write this, I’m watching a hell of a game between Japan and the Netherlands. Best game of the tournament so far. Hoping this summer is one for the books as well.

xoxo,

Steve