The Joy Of The World Cup

        As of yesterday the World Cup, that apex of international socceerdom, was, alas, over for 2026 and will not return to our blue green globe for another four years. 
         Now, anyone who knows me even a little will attest to the fact that I am the most inveterate of sports non-fans. The competitive athletic games from the local to the international level that rock the world of those around me barely catch my attention if at all, and then only vaguely and in passing. (I'm ashamed to admit that this was true even when it was my own children who were participants in said athletic games. ​

      My children loved sports. I loved my children. I still couldn't make myself care whether their teams won or lost. I was just glad they were out getting some fresh air and running around with the other kids).
         But this year I loved the World Cup. I loved watching, listening to, and reading about - well, not the games, of course; I watched not a minute of a single game and had no idea of who was playing who when or where. 
           What I loved about the World Cup - and followed closely with much joy - were the reactions of the first-time visitors to the United States who'd come here for the games. I loved reading about their surprise in discovering our country and their delight in all things American.

       My Facebook feed was full of videos of visitors from other countries reacting to their first experience of American foods, stores, restaurants, highways, air conditioning, and other parts and parcels of Americana.

     And how fun it was to learn of our guests' immediate addiction to that most common, taken-for-granted, and ubiquitous of American condiments, ranch dressing. 

     But most wonderful was hearing of their surprise upon discovering that, rather than being 360 million iterations of Donald Trump as they had feared, Americans were actually friendly, generous, welcoming people.

           My heart was lifted by every Facebook reel, every news article, every radio spot about how much World Cup visitors loved us Americans, our food, and our country. It made me feel patriotic, proud to be an American, proud of my fellow countrymen and women. It was a cool, refreshing rain on my parched American soul.     
          I can't say I know which team ultimately won the World Cup. But I know that the American people, and all those visitors who we came to know and who came to know us, were the true winners. 

     Which is, I believe, what it's really all about. Or should be.