The Beautiful Game

The Beautiful Game

That’s what soccer (or football if you’re not American) is called.

I always wondered why it was called that.

I had a couple of relatives and peers at school that played soccer at one point or another, but I never much cared for it. And I certainly couldn’t understand all the international hype around it.

Here in America, we have football and baseball. Two distinctly American sports.

Nor did I care much for the World Cup when it rolled around.

But this year seems to be different.

The United States is hosting the World Cup on the 250th anniversary of the nation. And many foreign visitors are experiencing American culture, food, people, and cities for the very first time.

There’s videos all over social media of people being shocked by American BBQ, Walmarts, Buc-ees, hotdogs, culture (especially in the Southern parts of the nation), and plenty of other things.

Some people are not only enjoying it, they’re moved by the good and beautiful things they’re experiencing here.

The narrative that is often pushed in other countries by media and politicians is that America is a terrible, dirty, and dangerous place.

In a lot of these videos, these foreign visitors are stating something interesting. “We’ve been lied to”.

Some are so moved that they’re belting out the Star-Spangled Banner with Americans before games or in pubs in Boston.

Ironically, this joy and optimism from foreigners, I think, is bringing ordinary Americans together across all the divisions we’ve been accustomed to dividing or attempting to divide us.

It’s sending a loud message. The things that we see and experience all the time as Americans and may take for granted because, well, we’re used to it, are seen as wonders and blessings to those not from here.

American freedoms, rights, culture, technology, music, etc. are all being celebrated.

And it’s all because of one sport.

Why is that? Why is it taking the World Cup being hosted in the United States to remind us that we’re on the same team?

It could be for a lot of reasons. Around the world, soccer is a game that everyone can play, from the dirt poor to the rich. As long as you have a ball of some sort, enough players, and something to mark a goal, you can play.

You can’t really do that with American football or baseball. You need a specifically shaped ball and other equipment.

The rules are relatively simple (unlike American football), and it’s a sport that anyone can watch, understand, and enjoy across language and cultural barriers.

And because of that, it brings people together.

What People Are Saying

A Scottish visitor staying in Boston said it plainly: “The America we are experiencing right now is the America we were promised growing up. We were expecting to be met by aggressive police and the political climate we all see on the news, and that could not be further from the truth of what we’ve actually experienced here. Honestly, every single person we’ve come across has been out of this world.” Yahoo Sports

That’s not an isolated reaction.

Restaurant owners have driven World Cup fans to games because they couldn’t find an Uber. A deli owner gave British tourists free lunch “just because they came all this way.” Alabama firefighters gave foreign visitors a full tour of their fire department and handed out free merchandise. Fox News

A Japanese visitor went to Fort Worth and appeared genuinely amazed by the city’s western charm. From cowboy hats to historic streets, the city looked like something straight out of a Hollywood western. Dutch supporters embraced the Texas experience with full enthusiasm, proving cowboy culture translates surprisingly well. FOX 26 Houston

One American on social media put it well: “I think this World Cup tourist phenomenon is beautiful. It’s so easy to get hung up on the bad things about this place. But what makes the US special are the things we take for granted — the scenery, the greasy food, classic Americana, the people.” NBC News

Fresh eyes. That’s what it takes sometimes.

These testimonies can’t be monetized. They don’t generate outrage. They don’t drive donations or votes. Division has a business model. Unity doesn’t.

A Foretaste of Something Greater

Here’s where I want to take you somewhere bigger for a moment.

In the Bible, Zechariah 14:16 says this: “Then everyone who survives of all the nations shall go up year after year to worship the King, the Lord of hosts, and to keep the Feast of Tabernacles.”

It’s speaking of a future that will happen after judgment when Christ returns for the Millennial Kingdom.

The Feast of Tabernacles is a Jewish holiday that’s been celebrated for thousands of years. Families build temporary outdoor shelters and eat and celebrate under the open sky, commemorating the time Israel wandered in the wilderness, depending entirely on God’s provision rather than their own permanent structures.

The book of Revelation echoes it: people from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, appearing before their God.

Now think about what’s happening in the streets of Boston and Fort Worth and Kansas City right now.

Flags from dozens of nations. Languages you’ve never heard before. Strangers feeding each other, singing together, marveling at each other.

Maybe it’s a foretaste. A whisper of what humanity was actually designed for.

How Do We Hold On To This?

So here’s the question that really matters. When the World Cup is over and the flags come down, what are we left with?

The noise machine will crank back up. The outrage cycle will return. Politicians will find new reasons to pit us against each other. And the visitors will go home.

But here’s what I want you to consider. The unity we’re witnessing right now wasn’t manufactured. Nobody organized it. No government program created the moment a Scottish fan and an American stranger sang together at last call in a Boston bar. No DEI initiative produced the restaurant owner who drove a lost tourist to the stadium just because it was the right thing to do.

It happened because people, given the freedom to simply be people, tend toward goodness.

That’s worth protecting. Here’s how:

Resist the narrative, not the person. The next time a news cycle tries to convince you that your neighbor is your enemy — pause. Ask who benefits from you believing that. Then go talk to your actual neighbor.

Notice what you take for granted. The World Cup tourists aren’t wrong. Free ice. A friendly stranger. A safe, well-lit store at 2 a.m. The freedom to drive nine hours through beautiful, open country. These are gifts. Name them. Treat them like gifts.

Build something local. Unity doesn't scale down from national politics. It scales up from neighborhoods, churches, local businesses, and friendships. Start there. Build there. That's your jurisdiction.

Choose the Friendship of the Good. As I wrote in a previous piece about Aristotle's highest form of friendship, built on love, virtue, and mutual improvement — this is where real resistance lives. Not in protest, but in presence. Showing up for people. Staying when it's hard.

Hold on to wonder. The Swedish tourist who screamed at the sight of a yellow school bus and said "I feel like I'm in a movie", she's not naive. She's awake. We should be too.

The beautiful game reminded us of something beautiful about ourselves.

Don't let the noise take it back.

Live Free.