I have attended the last nine World Cups and watched hundreds of matches. Soccer |Sports

The first time I attended a World Cup was in Italy in 1990 as a 20-year-old fan. Since then, I have participated in eight more tournaments as a journalist. Nine tournaments have taken me everywhere from the Amazon to Tokyo to Hitler’s former Olympic Stadium in Berlin.

He watched David Beckham get sent off against Argentina in 1998, had an in-depth conversation with a Russian police officer using a language app on his phone in 2018, and walked through the Stalingrad battlefield with England fans. I’ve watched hundreds of matches, some of which I’ll never forget, but the best was probably the last World Cup final, France vs. Argentina. But this tournament did more than just watch glorious (and not-so-glorious) football, it also helped us understand the world.

Here are some of the things I’ve seen and learned since Italy 90.

World Cup 1990:

When my friend and I got off at Milan train station, the first thing we saw at the World Cup was a lone Cameroonian fan wrapped in his country’s flag. We were on the train during the opening game of the tournament, a match between unknown Cameroon and Argentina, led by world champion Diego Maradona. I wanted to know by how many goals Argentina won.

As we drove into town behind the fan, every passing car made a fuss in his honor. It was then that Cameroon realized that they had defeated Maradona.

Roger Milla, a 38-year-old forward who played for the Waiters team on the Indian Ocean island, scored four goals in that tournament. Although England had just been eliminated in the quarter-finals, everyone agreed that an African team would soon win the World Cup. That’s not happening. Looking back, Cameroon’s brilliance was not the beginning of African football’s rise. That was the end.

World Cup 1994:

I was commuting between Foxboro Stadium and my home in Boston. The World Cup didn’t seem to exist in the city. During the tournament, I went to a Red Sox baseball game with a friend, a fellow journalist, and chatted with the fans sitting around. When I told him I was covering the World Cup, he asked me what it was about.

Only immigrants cared. I was in downtown Boston the day Brazil defeated the hosts 1-0 in the round of 16. When the final whistle blew, the city’s streets immediately filled with tens of thousands of Brazilians wearing yellow shirts. It might have been Rio de Janeiro. Americans will be more interested when the World Cup returns to America next summer. Since 1994, soccer has conquered the last blank spots on the world map.

World Cup 1998:

This was the last tournament dominated by hooliganism, almost entirely in English. Before England’s match against Tunisia, England fans skirmished with locals in Marseille for several days. Discussion has begun over England’s ban from the tournament.

England’s match against Romania in Toulouse effectively put the city under lockdown. A colleague of mine, who was tasked with “hooley-watching,” a major occupation for British journalists at the time, became so angry at the thugs he was watching that he began cracking down on them himself. It helped that he was 6 feet 4 inches tall. He marched up to a small British hooligan who was kicking up a parked car and asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“They’re French, Innit,” Hooligan explained. “You’re in France!” my colleague exclaimed.

That summer, hooligans shaped the world’s image of England. For many foreigners, the skinheads throwing stones in Marseille were England. It’s hard to imagine today. The modern World Cup is about peace and love.

World Cup 2002:

Ronaldo (the bald Brazilian, not the gel-haired Portuguese) was too good for the World Cup. A double in the final against the Germans was routine for him. Brazil in 2002 was the only team I’ve ever seen win a World Cup without being truly tested.

After the final, Ronaldo was the only one who was silent while his teammates were frolicking around in national flags and Jesus T-shirts. Despite having the world’s worst haircut (a shaved head with what looked like a mustache on the front), he was the epitome of dignity. He walked around the pitch alone and consoled the Germans.

He had achieved his life goal and now wanted to experience it with a clear head. It was the best World Cup celebration I’ve ever seen.

World Cup 2006:

In the semi-finals, Italy defeated the hosts Germany 2-0, and German fans seemed happy with the loss. That night, Berlin police had to stop people from throwing themselves into the Spree. The fans weren’t trying to drown, they were just partying. A few days later, on the morning of the final, a strange army formed on Berlin’s Unter den Lindenstrasse. Half a million white-shirted young Germans gathered to show their gratitude to the losing team.

Germany has always been the Darth Vader of the World Cup, the villain who destroyed beautiful teams like Hungary in 1954, Holland in 1974 and France in 1982. German fans were fed up with the ugly victory. In the end, they could be lovable losers.

And most of us foreigners have learned to love them. English people and others have stopped confusing the World Cup with the World War. I have to admit it took some of the spice out of the tournament.

World Cup 2010:

Impoverished South Africa was planning to host a low-budget World Cup, but FIFA bullied the country into building a bunch of unnecessary “world-class” stadiums in cities without serious soccer clubs, like Polokwane. This northwestern town hosted four World Cup matches and all group matches. Algeria vs. Slovenia (0-1), France vs. Mexico (0-2), Greece vs. Argentina (0-2) and, in the grand finale, Paraguay vs. New Zealand (0-0).

In 2024, I went to Polokwane to see what the World Cup left behind. I found a low-lying town overlooked by a magnificent structure, the 48,000-seat Peter Mokaba Stadium, better than Anfield. So I went to the local derby and was confused. When I walked in, I couldn’t see any other spectators. The match kicked off in front of a crowd of about 1,000 people. Imagine if South Africa had raised the money, cement and labor needed for a stadium and built houses for people living in shacks.

World Cup 2014:

I made the wrong selection for the semi-finals. I was in Sao Paulo for the Netherlands vs. Argentina game and watched Brazil lose 7-1 to Germany on the TV in the bar. Television footage showed people crying in the crowd. At halftime, with the score tied at 0-5, I walked down Avenida Paulista in Sao Paulo to see how the rest of Brazil’s team was faring. Every bar I passed had people in canary yellow shirts laughing their heads off. Their team became the clown of the tournament.

A few days later, I strolled along Copacabana Beach with a group of European diplomats. This person loved Brazil. I asked him how he experienced 1-7. “It was terrible. I was so embarrassed for the Brazilians,” he said. He explained that the country has an inferiority complex in almost everything. There was only one source of international pride: Futebol.

World Cup 2018:

The opening match of the tournament was the “Petrol Derby”, Russia vs. Saudi Arabia. Before kickoff, President Vladimir Putin stood up and gave a speech, and the crowd applauded for about 10 seconds. With a grin on his Botox-treated face, he talked about football spreading love. But the home fans’ attention was soon diverted and his roars were drowned out by their chatter. When he finished, there was the loudest cheer.

He then sat in the VIP box, chatting and laughing with his companions, Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) and FIFA president Gianni Infantino. It was a vision of a new non-Western world order.

The West no longer mattered. Russia defeated England and other Western countries to host the tournament. The effect was further enhanced by the names of Gazprom, Qatar Airways and South Korea’s Kia Motors on billboards around the pitch.

Russia defeated Saudi Arabia 5-0. It hardly mattered. Putin and MBS have won something bigger than the World Cup: a global power struggle.

World Cup 2022:

Harry Kane went into every game knowing which side of the goal he would shoot if he received a penalty. He would practice that very kick a few days before the match. The keeper facing him for a penalty had to choose a side at random. Fortunately, Kane’s well-placed kick was almost impossible to stop.

So when England won a penalty against France in the quarter-finals, he made sure to smash it into the right side of the goal.

Even if it was against the keeper he knows best, France’s Hugo Lloris, his teammate at Tottenham for the past nine years. They must have faced off over countless senseless penalties at Spurs’ training ground in Enfield.

However, with about 10 minutes left in the game and England leading 2-1, a second penalty was awarded. This was Kane’s moment of truth. If England beat France, they will face Morocco in the semi-finals. A second converted penalty could give them a clear step towards immortality.

Now, Kane faced a dilemma. He had already shown Lloris his penalty strategy for the night: shoot to the right. Should he do it again? Instead, he decided to explode at the top of the net. If the shot is on target, it will almost certainly go in, even if the keeper’s guess is correct.

Kane’s shot went over the bar, Kylian Mbappé laughed and England were eliminated.

To make matters worse, Kane earned the next 30 penalties.

Simon Kuper is a journalist at the Financial Times and author of World Cup Fever: A Footballing Journey in Nine Championships. Published by Profile Books, priced at £20, it’s on sale now.