World Cup’s pull outlasts politics and bureaucracy

World Cup’s – From a tiny debutant tying Spain to the sport’s long, globe-spanning history—and even amid FIFA’s corruption scandals—the World Cup keeps delivering moments that feel bigger than any single match.

The World Cup keeps coming back to the same promise: it’s the one major sporting event where the world can’t help showing up.

An estimated 5 billion people watched at least some of the 2022 World Cup. and the 2026 tournament is now underway in the US. Canada. and Mexico with an even larger field of countries. The buildup around it can be loud—red tape. bureaucracy. politics—but the tournament itself has been built to move past all of that.

There’s a reason the surprises keep landing.

In June. Cape Verde—population 529. 600—made its World Cup debut and tied tournament favorite Spain with a 0-0 draw in Atlanta on June 15. Two days later. the Democratic Republic of Congo. a country described as one of the poorest in the world and embroiled in both a deadly civil war and a major Ebola outbreak. deadlocked with fifth-ranked Portugal and its star Cristiano Ronaldo. finishing 1-1. Moments like those make a tie feel like a headline.

And then there are the performances that make fans believe they might not be watching from the sidelines forever. The main host nation kicked off its World Cup campaign with a 4-1 drubbing of Paraguay. a result framed as one of the most impressive moments in US tournament history since the Americans “beat” England 0-0 in 2022—again. technically a draw. but treated as a victory.

That tension between disbelief and confidence matters, because the World Cup doesn’t just reward the teams that look ready on paper. Sometimes it’s the format itself that keeps hope alive: a tie can become a country’s greatest-ever sporting achievement.

The tournament also gives people a place to indulge in nationalism without needing it to turn ugly. The core of the fan experience stays simple: applaud greatness no matter the color of the kit. especially as the tournament progresses and the field narrows. For generational superstars like Argentina’s Lionel Messi. the World Cup becomes a stage. with the world forced—if it wants to or not—into witness mode.

It also turns national identity into something people can actually laugh about. Last Friday. the morning commute from New York to Boston—caught on a 5:27 am train—was punctuated by a quarter of the passengers wearing what appeared to be kilts. The idea was unmistakable: Scotland’s “Tartan Army” heading to Beantown to watch their national side and party.

Elsewhere, fans have their own rituals. Japanese fans stayed behind after their side’s opening match in Dallas on June 14 to clean up. described as something they’ve done at every World Cup match since 1998. The story goes further: they even managed to convince NFL quarterback Jameis Winston to help out.

For all the talk of nations, the World Cup also quietly shows how porous borders have become on the field. Nearly a quarter of the 1. 248 players at this year’s tournament were born in a country other than the one they were playing for. up from under 9 percent as recently as 2006. Curaçao—described as the smallest-ever nation in the World Cup—had 25 of its 26 players born abroad. and Morocco became the first side with an entirely foreign-born starting 11.

For the United States. hosting has brought a different kind of attention—one that doesn’t always fit neatly into politics. Being the host means the chance to show the world what a country feels like: ranch dressing. Waffle Houses. and gas stations described as roughly the size of Luxembourg. The piece also points to viral videos of European tourists experiencing “the best of middle America. ” and adds a darkly comic reminder that the TSA allows only 3.4 ounces of ranch dressing in a carry-on—otherwise. the travelers may face something less hospitable.

The pull isn’t only about the present. The World Cup’s history is packed with images that travel across generations. It is the 23rd men’s World Cup. Its first-ever goal was scored by a French factory worker who headed in the ball in the snow of Uruguay. The trophy itself was protected during World War II by an Italian official who took it out of a Rome bank vault and stored it in a shoebox beneath his bed until the tournament resumed in 1950.

Even what sounds like a curse became a story. The trophy was stolen before the 1966 World Cup in England. only to be found by a dog named Pickles under a south London hedge. That same 1966 tournament produced another shock: North Korea—less than 15 years after the Korean War—eliminated powerhouse Italy in one of the greatest upsets in the history of sport.

Then there’s the strange mercy of the tournament itself. Sometimes you can lose and still win—at least in the way the sport remembers you. The 1974 Netherlands side is presented as a team that never lifted the trophy. but is celebrated for “Total Football. ” a style that abandoned fixed positions and required every player to spread out and attack relentlessly. The Netherlands lost to West Germany in the final, but the story insists the team won the style war.

All of this unfolds under the shadow of a sporting institution whose critics have made themselves impossible to ignore. The Fédération Internationale de Football Association—FIFA—is described as the worst international sporting body in the world. and the accusations are laid out in a sequence: in 2015. FIFA was the target of a major international corruption case. with US prosecutors charging officials with taking in some $150 million in bribes over the decades. The Department of Justice called the corruption “rampant, systemic, and deep-rooted.”.

Sepp Blatter, then-president of FIFA, was never personally convicted, but his 17-year reign ended in disgrace, and he was banned from soccer.

The World Cups themselves were tainted in the account too. FIFA awarded the 2018 and 2022 World Cups to Russia and Qatar respectively. with bids described as highly suspicious after a major report later revealed. The 2018 World Cup came only four years after Russia invaded Crimea. The 2022 World Cup was described as dogged by charges of migrant abuse, including potentially thousands of deaths. Current FIFA president Gianni Infantino pushed for Saudi Arabia to get the 2034 Cup despite human rights concerns. And this time around. FIFA has been accused of ludicrous levels of price gouging on tickets—though Infantino is said to have promised cheap hot dogs as compensation.

The article also references “many, many bad things the Trump administration did in the lead-up to the tournament,” but it does not add specifics beyond that.

And yet—this is the point that keeps showing up with every kickoff—the buzz survives. The claim is blunt: from the moment of the first kickoff in Mexico City, none of that seems to matter. Not even FIFA can kill the moment.

There’s another reason the World Cup feels different from other championships: it doesn’t run out of time. Most championship games are done in a day, and even the Olympics or Wimbledon are measured in weeks. The World Cup lasts more than a month—some five weeks when nearly every day has something to watch. And, at the time of this telling, the tournament is only just beginning, with four weeks still to go.

For fans, the effect is immediate. For everyone watching, the stakes are measured in more than matches: in the rare feeling that, even when the politics are messy and the organizations are compromised, the tournament itself keeps finding a way to deliver.

A version of this story originally appeared in the Good News newsletter.

World Cup FIFA 2026 World Cup 2022 World Cup Cristiano Ronaldo Lionel Messi US hosting sports politics FIFA corruption