Over the last few weeks, I’ve joined the ranks of World Cup viewership, enjoying the broad access to world-class soccer on the biggest stage. As someone whose soccer career flamed out in first grade (I was bored by the large amount of running and small amount of points), I also found myself in the uncomfortable place of enjoying watching the matches while finding myself woefully lacking in the vocabulary and rules facets of the game.
The desire to be a part of something this big, while struggling to follow it has brought to mind some interesting thoughts about pride, humility, and participation.
I’m a perfectionist by nature, so it’s been difficult to come to terms with the fact that I don’t fully understand the laws of soccer. I don’t know the rosters or histories of the national teams. Heck, I’ve been watching the Spanish broadcast on Peacock, so I don’t even understand the commentators.
Yesterday, I watched the second half of the England-Mexico match with my friend Cieron, who is English. I arrived at the bar before Cieron, and felt overwhelmed, under-prepared, and wholly out of place in the raucous crowd of true fans. When England won the match at the historic Azteca, I felt that I was transported to a different fan experience as the English supporters cheered, chanted, sang, and hugged. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. And boy, it made me want more.
The World Cup has been unlike any other sports viewership experience for me. I’m a rabid fan of American football and basketball, and I can chop it up about baseball, hockey, and tennis. I watch the Olympics and don’t feel out of place, but the World Cup has made me very aware that I feel out of place talking about soccer, and yet so energized to be a part of the viewership.
I can talk about basketball to no end, but the World Cup has taught me to listen to the history, heritage, and story of national teams.
I can teach the obscure rules of American football, but the World Cup has taught me to learn as a coworker patiently explains how offsides works using magnets.
I can pride myself in understanding the subtleties of a charge in basketball or the targeting of football, but the World Cup has taught me to practice humility as I learn to understand the rules of a previously unfamiliar sport.
I can cheer for a team, but the World Cup has taught me that supporting a team means something different when you’re invested.
And while I know this academically and personally, the World Cup has taught me lessons about how big our world is, how impressive these athletes are, and how I can celebrate, empathize, and cheer with my fellow humans.
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