Soccer legend Pelé popularized soccer as “the beautiful game” in 1977. Over this summer, the World Cup spiked American interest in a way that may actually outlast the tournament. It could actually overcome its place in a longtime joke: “Soccer is America’s sport of the future, and it always will be.”
I’ve been won over by watching a son and three grandsons play countless games from age 5 to 23. Even toddlers love to kick a ball, and soccer qualifies as the sport that is easiest for kids to play — all you need is a ball, and you can practice juggling or passing in a tight circle with a few others. There is magic in a game that doesn’t require adults, extra equipment or a special field.
This year we were blessed with the beauty of Kylian Mbappe devouring the field with his long, graceful strides, and Lionel Messi chopping up opponents with the quickest feet and shortest steps, like a sandpiper avoiding a wave at ocean’s edge, as he continually put the ball where defenders couldn’t touch it. We saw the freight train that is Norway’s Erling Haaland (6-foot-5, 200 pounds), bearing down on the ball and a goalkeeper who can’t be touched.
But the World Cup brought a bit of ugly along as well. No one — I repeat, no one — can be a fan of players grimacing and thrashing on the ground with a painful injury from an opponent’s foul, and then watch their miraculous recovery seconds later to run at full speed without limitation. The lone referee already has an impossible job without awarding Oscars for acting. About 40 years ago, the NBA addressed the speed and power of the players by adding another official, and recently instituted strong penalties for players “flopping” to get a call.
Touching a soccer ball in play with your hands is severely penalized, but it seems there are no rules for using your hands to shove or hold another player. The melee in front of the goal for a corner kick resembles a crowd of second graders without teachers to enforce the “Keep your hands to yourself” rule. One player circles an arm around an opponent’s waist, who angrily swats it away — “Don’t touch me!” — and maybe adds a shove for good measure. The routine is repeated several times by everyone in the scrum before the ball is launched, with only luck determining who gets in the last shove or grab.
The corruption at the very top of FIFA (Fédération Internationale de Football Association) is astounding. Over many years, they have been charged with bribery and kickbacks in the amount of about $150 million, wire fraud, voting scandals, money laundering and criminal conspiracies. Some officials have actually served time in prison.
Our felon-in-chief made the corruption perfectly clear by getting a red card overturned (another pardon!) to allow America’s leading scorer to play against Belgium. All it took was a call to his pal, FIFA President Gianni Infantino. There is no established appeals process, and the only red card ever rescinded previously was in 1962. But the corrupt decision became an afterthought when the Americans played miserably and lost to an inspired Belgian team 4-1.
Every sport is subject to the griping of know-it-all fans like myself, including football, baseball, basketball and probably curling if I watched it. But the fans at this year’s World Cup carried the tournament to new heights in the U.S., escaping the shadow of “hooligans” who haunted international games for decades. The Scots brought kilts and good cheer, drank all our beer and helped clean up the mess the next day. Norway rowed against the tide with such good nature that Americans tried to learn the move. And the watch parties, both celebrations and sad sendoffs, displayed a truly international community in the U.S. and around the world. The rainbow of faces, often decorated in team colors, showed that at least occasionally, we can bury the hatchets and truly “get along.”
And as a cherry on top, the final game drove home a coach’s favorite mantra: a team playing together can defeat even the brightest individual stars. There was a lot to learn this summer by watching the world’s best players and teams play the beautiful game.
Greenfield resident Allen Woods is a freelance writer and author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard.” His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome at awoods2846@gmail.com.