‘The beautiful game’ is about to take center stage

Something extraordinary is about to happen, and if you blink, you might miss why it matters.

This summer, the FIFA World Cup arrives on North American soil, with matches spread across the United States, Mexico and Canada. It is, quite simply, the biggest sporting event in human history.

And yes, I mean that literally.

When Argentina defeated France in the 2022 World Cup final, more than 5.5 billion people watched live. That is not a typo. Sixty-two percent of all living humanity tuned in to witness one match. The Super Bowl draws about 120 million viewers domestically. The World Cup final attracts fifty times that number globally.

So why do so many Americans feel vaguely unfamiliar with this tournament, as if it were something happening elsewhere, to other people? The answer lies partly in our sporting calendar, dominated by football (the other kind), baseball and basketball. But it also lies in a broad misunderstanding about what the World Cup is.

The grand finale

The World Cup is about nations, not clubs. Think the Olympic Games, where there is just one Team USA. The same applies here. National pride and passion are at the heart of everything. This is not about Manchester United, Barcelona or even our own Atlanta United at the extraordinary Mercedes-Benz Stadium. This is about the USA versus the rest.

Something crucial often escapes public attention. The World Cup finals that begin this June are exactly that — finals. The tournament represents the culmination of a two-year qualifying process that has already winnowed down the football-playing nations of the world.

Consider the scale. FIFA has 211 member nations fielding men’s teams. From Africa to Asia to Europe and South America, teams have been competing in regional qualifying rounds since 2023. Only 48 will make it to North America — an expansion from the traditional 32-team format, making this the largest World Cup in history.

When you watch a group-stage match, you are watching survivors. Every team has earned their place through years of competition, thousands of miles of travel and matches played in conditions ranging from the high altitude of La Paz, Bolivia, to the sweltering humidity of Singapore.

The American puzzle

The U.S. men’s national team is, by objective measures, a strong side, currently ranked 15th in the world and one place ahead of Mexico. Our player pool includes athletes competing at the highest levels of European club football — Christian Pulisic, Brenden Aaronson, Weston McKennie and Tyler Adams. This is not a ragtag collection of amateurs. This is a talented, tactically sophisticated group that understands the international game.

Yet a curious phenomenon persists. Many Americans approach the World Cup expecting victory — after all, we expect American dominance in the sports we prioritize. When the U.S. does not lift the trophy, disappointment and dismissal often follow.

This fundamentally misreads the competitive landscape. Brazil has won the World Cup five times; Germany and Italy, four each; and Argentina and France, three apiece. I remember watching an old black-and-white TV as my home team, England, won it in 1966 — their only World Cup triumph.

The U.S. reaching the knockout round would represent genuine success against nations where football is a cultural religion practiced from birth.

Ironically, Americans already know what World Cup dominance looks like — through our women’s team. That team has lifted the trophy four times since 1991, a triumph unmatched by any other nation. Those who have cheered for Megan Rapinoe and Alex Morgan already understand the beautiful game’s magic.

Why it matters

The 2026 World Cup offers Americans something unprecedented: the chance to experience this global phenomenon in our own stadiums, our own cities and our own time zones. Matches will be played from Los Angeles to New York, from Dallas to Seattle, and with Atlanta also as a host city. The atmosphere — the songs, the passion, the sheer electricity — will be unlike anything most American sports fans have encountered.

Football is called “the beautiful game” for good reasons. Its democratic accessibility — a ball, some flat ground and human ingenuity — has made it the universal sport. It belongs to favelas and finishing schools alike, to villages without electricity and cities with gleaming towers. It is humanity’s game.

It also allows us to be proudly and decently tribal. People identify with their national teams in deeply personal ways, wrapped in flags and family memories. But at its best, the game unites rather than divides, channeling our competitive instincts into healthy rivalry and offering a shared language of joy and heartbreak that connects strangers across every conceivable boundary.

This summer, the beautiful game comes home. The world will be watching — quite literally, billions of our fellow humans. The question is whether we will watch along with them.

Christopher Blake, a native of Wimbledon, England, now lives in Macon, where he serves as the president of Middle Georgia State University. He is a passionate supporter of Tottenham Hotspur Football Club and the national football teams of the U.S. and England. He will write occasional pieces about the 2026 World Cup for the Georgia Trust for Local News. To share your own reflections about the contest, email joshua@gtln.org.