World Cup 2026

I grew up in a world where football, basketball, and baseball reigned as kings. Soccer was a sport that boys and girls played through high school. The first time I even heard of the World Cup was in 1994. The U.S. was hosting the tournament, and some of the games were played in Dallas.

That summer, I worked in Guest Relations at Six Flags Over Texas (please know, I was horrible at the job). Some of the international teams came to the park. Given their limited free time, they were given an escort through the park and taken directly onto the rides—an early version of a FastPass. On one of these occasions, I was asked to escort the German team. I spent a couple of hours walking them around and getting them onto the rides. It remains one of my favorite memories from that job.

As they were leaving, one of the team members gave me a team pin. It wasn't one that could be purchased as a souvenir. I still have that pin after all these years and through several moves.

By the way, Brazil won that year.

The next time I thought about the World Cup was in 2006 while serving as the Director of New Student Programs at the University of West Florida. Anytime some of my Orientation Leaders had a break in their schedule, I found them in front of a television watching a match. They were obsessed with the tournament. I would have to remind them that they had new students to guide through orientation. It was like working with people who had an addiction. Free time meant World Cup time, which meant they couldn't simply walk away when their break was over. I think one of them even turned around at me and said, “My precious.”

Italy won that year.

Pop Quiz:

What year was the first World Cup held?

1930

Where was the first World Cup held?

Uruguay

Who was the first team to win the World Cup?

Yep... Uruguay.

I now live in a country where fútbol is the nation's primary sport. Uruguay takes the game very seriously. Children begin training at an early age. The boy next door is always outside in the afternoon kicking his fútbol. This isn't like what I experienced growing up. Back home, a kid could play soccer, but it was usually in a city recreational league. There weren't middle school soccer teams, and high school games were attended mostly by parents and significant others. That was, of course, until the team made the playoffs. Then it seemed like the entire school had been fans all season.

It's different here.

Uruguay has two major professional clubs: Nacional and Peñarol. People have their favorite team, and they wear their jerseys with pride. Nacional's colors are red, white, and blue. Peñarol's are black and gold. It's easy to tell which team someone supports. There are even neighborhoods of the city that tend to favor one club over the other.

Uruguayans take fútbol seriously. It isn't a simple love affair that resurfaces every four years.

That passion has only intensified with the World Cup. Everywhere around the city you see the Uruguayan flag—on businesses, cars, buses, and apartment balconies. Since the tournament began, people have put away their Nacional and Peñarol jerseys and proudly wear the Uruguay national team jersey instead. It has become the number one topic of conversation.

Our Spanish teacher suggested we go to a bar to watch one of the matches. He said it would be a great experience.

Last night, we met up with our friend Blue at Cervecería Sede, a small bar just outside Montevideo. Mikey and I were the first people to arrive. We met the bartender, who also happened to be the cook, and had a great conversation. He told us his English wasn't very good, but he wanted to practice. He was incredibly kind. Blue arrived shortly afterward, followed by several others. In total, about ten people gathered to watch the match.

Please remember, it's winter here. During the game it was about 8°C (46°F) outside. The bartender started a fire in the fireplace to help warm the place. Unfortunately, the fireplace was in the back of the bar, while everyone sat in the front to watch the television. We were in a building without heaters, sitting the farthest possible distance from the only source of warmth, and near the entrance where the cold air came in every time someone opened the door.

We watched the first half of Uruguay vs. Spain in those conditions. We saw our goalkeeper misplay a save that allowed Spain to score. I don't watch many sports, but even I could tell it wasn't a particularly impressive goal. Our goalkeeper simply missed his chance to stop the ball.

The group went crazy.

During halftime, the bartender moved tables into the back near the fireplace, and everyone pitched in by carrying chairs and relocating the television. Within a few minutes, we were all gathered around the fire to watch the second half.

For the next 45 minutes, Uruguay created several excellent scoring opportunities, but Spain's goalkeeper was outstanding. He either caught the ball or deflected every dangerous shot.

Final score: Spain 1, Uruguay 0.

Uruguay was eliminated from the tournament.

Now for a few observations.

It was cold. I don't understand why 8°C (46°F) feels so much colder here than the same temperature did back home, but it does. Everyone in the bar kept their coats on, and my hands and feet felt like ice. But no one became a Karen about the situation. No one complained.

I didn't care.

I was having a wonderful time.

I felt like we had become part of this small group of people who had gathered to watch the match together. There was one man who reacted dramatically to every play, but no one was obnoxious. People enjoyed their drinks, cheered for their team, and watched the game. The match wasn't an excuse to get drunk.

Everyone treated us as though we had been part of their community for years. They talked with us and asked about where we lived, where we had moved from, and why we had chosen Uruguay.

I hated to see Uruguay eliminated. However, last night reminded me of what sports should be about. They should be about a group of athletes demonstrating extraordinary skill (although Uruguay does have one player who is an asshole). But they should also be about fans coming together to share a common bond.

Last night wasn't really about the score.

It was about community.

Thank you for sticking with me.

As always, be kind to yourself and be kind to one another.