So, There’s This Thing Called Soccer Happening

The World Cup is here, and it’s being played right here in North America, presumably FIFA needed a new market after exhausting every nation willing to build stadiums in 115-degree heat using workers whose passports had been confiscated.

For millions of Americans, this represents their first real exposure to soccer, or as the rest of the world insists on calling it, football, because they have never seen real football. They also call it “the beautiful game”, which is something people say about things that are not always beautiful, like childbirth or a fistfight in an Applebee’s parking lot.

In American football, players use their hands. In soccer, they use their feet. This is because hands were not widely adopted in Europe until after the Renaissance.

The soccer field itself is enormous. My calculations suggest it is roughly the size of Delaware, or four Walmart Supercenters placed end to end. This is because soccer was originally created in 1322 by Swiss shepherds who needed a way to move sheep without touching them, which was considered rude at the time. The goals at either end are actually barns and the random white lines on the field are where the sheep weren’t allowed to go.

Each team has eleven players. One of those players is the goalkeeper, whose job is to stand in front of the net and reflect on his life choices. The other ten run continuously for 90 minutes, which I firmly believe is too many minutes to spend on any physical activity. Occasionally one player will remove his shirt in celebration, revealing a torso that makes American athletes look like they’ve been assembled from leftover Lunchables.

I am looking at you, baseball where “athlete” is used as a courtesy much in the same way you’d call someone’s garage band “musicians”. The players understand this. The pants understand this.

You may also be wondering which countries are actually in the World Cup and why. The qualification process is somewhat confusing.

Large football nations like Brazil and Germany qualify automatically because the universe requires it. Smaller nations qualify by defeating their regional neighbors in matches played in stadiums that appear to be held together with optimism and zip ties.

The United States qualifies because it is very large and FIFA enjoys American television money almost as much as it enjoys not being investigated by American prosecutors.

Several other countries appear in the World Cup despite having populations smaller than Scottsdale, Arizona, and nobody questions this, because questioning things is how you end up explaining the offside rule.

Speaking of which, the offside rule cannot be explained. It has never been explained. Thousands of sports journalists have attempted to explain it and were never heard from again. What we do know is that it makes grown adults scream at a small flag held by a man who cannot hear them, which is the most universal human experience soccer has to offer.

The referee is also a fascinating figure. This man runs ten miles per match and is the only person on the field who cannot be substituted, which suggests FIFA views refs as either superhuman or entirely disposable.

Referees communicate entirely through cards. Yellow for “I noticed you”, red for “you must leave”, and a theoretical black card that FIFA has been threatening to introduce for forty years, which would presumably mean “you have wounded me spiritually”.

Scoring is rare and typically occurs roughly once per geological epoch. When a goal is finally scored, the announcer will shout “GOOOOOOAL” for a good eleven minutes. The crowd erupts. Fireworks go off. A man in the upper deck who has been asleep since the match began immediately begins crying without knowing why.

That same man paid $1,800 for his seat, which FIFA priced using an algorithm designed to ensure that actual fans cannot attend and the remaining tickets go to corporate hospitality packages filled with people who keep asking when the halftime show is and whether the prawns are gluten-free.

There is also something called “stoppage time” in soccer. These are bonus minutes added at the end of each half to compensate for injuries, delays, and what officials describe as general chaos. Nobody knows exactly how long it will be. Not the referee. Not FIFA officials. Not Stephen Hawking when he was alive, and frankly this might be why. It simply appears, like a check engine light, and everyone pretends to understand it.

If you do manage to attend, here is how to behave in the stands. You must sing. Not a song exactly. It is more of a chant that is repeated for 90 minutes and occasionally accompanied by a drum. You must stand the entire time.

You must also hate the opposing fans with a passion while secretly respecting them. You must wave a scarf above your head at specific moments that no one will explain to you in advance. If you do these things incorrectly, the people around you will know instantly. They will say nothing and their silence will be devastating.

The World Cup is here. It’s in our stadiums and filling our sports bars with people confidently mispronouncing names.

Pick a team based entirely on their jersey color. Buy a scarf. Pretend you’ve always cared deeply about Slovenia. Understand that Slovenia will break your heart in the quarterfinals in ways that feel both inevitable and deeply personal, and that you will do this again in four years because you have learned nothing, including what the offside rule is, and FIFA is counting on it.