ESSAY IV - TRADITION, PAGEANTRY AND WHY THEY MATTER

The World Cup is the No. 1 sporting event in the world.

There is a particular pleasure in watching a World Cup match as part of a

collective—whether that collective is made up of friends, co-workers, or complete

strangers.

Everyone is there for the same reason. The room, the bar, the open space

fill with anticipation. Take it in. This is not simply watching a game; it is entering

into a moment that others are equally eager to experience. Enjoy the spirit and

camaraderie.

This is a shared experience. People are happy and want to share

their happiness and not just with who they know.

You will have opportunities to attend what is called a “public viewing.” The

first time I heard this term was from my teenage son, who was in Germany for a

summer exchange program.

He told me his host family had taken him to a public viewing, and I thought "Why on earth would they take my son to a funeral?”

Public viewings are anything but morbid. They are outdoor gatherings with

enormous screens, dense crowds, food, beer, singing, shouting and the sudden

collective release of emotion at decisive moments.

Even casual viewers find themselves carried along. If you see an invitation to a public space, a bar, a restaurant, or a local club, - accept it.

Every match begins well before the first touch of the ball. It begins with the gathering. You may enjoy the guilty pleasure of an extended breakfast or lunch with friends, or with co-workers slipping away from the job, or supporters assembling with a shared purpose.

The anticipation builds not only for the match itself, but in the experience of watching it together.

Arrive early. The ritual begins with the players assembling side by side in the tunnel, the space between the locker room and the field.

The television captures one of the revealing moments of the day. It is a favorite time for me.

The scale of the event recedes. The scene becomes personal and a relationship with the

individual players somehow develops.

The camera lingers on opponents standing shoulder to shoulder. You see faces, personality, expressions.

The teams perhaps congratulating one another or perhaps acting as steely boxers in an attempt to gain a psychological advantage. Many opposing players are teammates on their club team.

It will not be unusual for two opponents to have played as teammates in the Champions League final just two weeks earlier. They now stand as representatives of their nations; that dynamic — friendship and rivalry interwoven — adds quiet tension.

When the signal is given the referee lead the sides out, plucks the game ball

off its pedestal and the teams emerge with their “escorts,” children six to ten years

of age, into a stadium already alive.

National anthems are sung at full voice by the entire stadium. Captains exchange pennants. The coin is tossed. Photographs are taken.

The roar builds steadily toward release. All of it unfolds within minutes, yet

it carries enormous symbolic weight. Then, with the first touch, anticipation turns

to action.

For those new to this setting, the questions arise naturally. What should I

wear? How should I act? The answer is uncomplicated. Be present. Participate.

There is no requirement of expertise or allegiance, only a willingness to engage.

The World Cup is not a formal occasion; it is an open celebration. People are

genuinely joyful and open, eager to share the experience not only with friends but

with anyone who happens to be there.

If you are supporting the United States, wear red, white, and blue. Flags,

scarves, jerseys—these are gestures of participation, not fashion statements. The

point is not to perform or demonstrate knowledge, but to signal that you are part of

the moment.

Supporters of other nations bring their identity. The Dutch in orange, England with its flags and songs, Brazil with its rhythm and Argentina with its movement, Spain as La Roja.

African nations with their colors and drumming.

Germany with its own traditions of order and intensity. This is the spectacle of the

World Cup—the merging of team and country.

For American supporters, this is an opportunity not to imitate these traditions, but to meet and create on our own. The moment asks not for passivity, but for engagement.

When support is offered freely and collectively, the line between player and country narrows, and the match becomes something more than a game to watch.

This is not an occasion for polite silence. It is an expression of collective support for the starting eleven. Players hear it, but more importantly, they feel it.

Soccer is a sport that absorbs the emotional energy of the crowd, and players often

speak of how that support settles nerves, sharpens focus, and lifts performance.

The relationship between supporters and players is not symbolic. The influence of

a crowd in soccer is not decorative; it is active.

A supportive crowd can lift its own players; a hostile crowd can unsettle the opposition. Whistling, chants, coordinated singing and the massive banners are not background noise.

They are heard and seen clearly on the field. They can quicken decisions, rush touches, and

introduce doubt. A hostile crowd can introduce uncertainty as effectively as a

supportive crowd can inspire confidence.

In both cases, the match is no longer eleven against eleven. It becomes something larger. Players often speak of “feeling the crowd.” That feeling can embolden or intimidate.

The National Anthem is the clearest expression of this connection. This is

the moment to give voice.

Engagement is an emotional truth which Americans often learn too late, after we have defaulted to observation rather than participation. Arriving early and joining in ensures you do not miss that moment.

It signals to those around you – especially those less familiar with the setting – that

this participation matters.

Inside the stadiums, each team is allotted a designated supporter’s section,

positioned behind one of the goals. These concentrated groups anchor the sound

and identity of each side.

Their presence becomes particularly consequential during penalty shootouts. In those moments, the crowd’s role is unmistakable.

After the coin toss, the team that wins the toss will select the goal in front of its

own supporters.

At the final whistle, ritual resumes. Players embrace or exchange shirts.

Occasionally there is friction; more often there is mutual respect, like two fighters

at the end of a bout.

Each team then gathers and walks toward its supporters’ section.

Applause meets applause. Songs are sung again. Emotions — relief, pride,

triumph, disappointment — are expressed openly. The players circle the pitch,

acknowledging the crowd that has supported and sung for them.

After a particularly emotional result, they will stay on the pitch for an extended period of

time, not wanting to ever let the feeling go.

This is the lasting impression of the World Cup. The match itself is only part

of it.

What remains is the shared experience – the sense that, for a brief time, you

are not simply watching, but are part of a larger collective, felt and remembered

long after the final whistle.

Now that we have felt the energy of the crowd, the rhythm of the match, and

the shared experience of watching alongside others, the next questions arise

naturally.

What exactly are we seeing? Why are certain moments celebrated while others are questioned?

The answers lie not in complexity, but in a handful of the laws, the rules that govern the game and give meaning to its most decisive moments.

JRSchroeder12@icloud.com

© William D. Schroeder, Jr. 2026