And so, farewell, World Cup 2026. You were at various points strange, hilarious, troubling and richly entertaining. So it’s probably appropriate that the final game of this epic tournament managed to be all those, and more.
Well, OK, not “richly entertaining.” As a game of soccer, the Final never remotely threatened entertainment on the level of the madcap third-place playoff the day before, which ended 6-4 to England and probably would have ended with a basketball score had it gone to extra time. Meanwhile,Spain’s disinclination to surrender the ball at any point meant that the Final felt like a training-ground attack-vs-defence affair at times. Had Lamine Yamal put away a respectable scoring chance in the fifth minute, the game might have played out very differently, but even as the first half came to an end, it was becoming pretty clear that Argentina would be happy with 0-0 and penalties.
The second half was essentially more of the same, just with increasing acrimony. When Argentina went down to ten men, Enzo Fernandez getting himself sent off for two yellow cards — the first for dissent, the second for sending Pau Cubarsi into orbit — it seemed inevitable that Spain would score, although it took until extra time for them to do so.
And that was that. Five weeks, 48 teams, umpteen games, multiple cities, one champion. Of those cities, it felt fitting that New York hosted the final, and… what? OK, fine, yes, the game was in New Jersey. But there was some merit to FIFA’s insistence that all the games at MetLife Stadium were somehow also spiritually in NYC, because it felt like spiritually they were in NYC. New York embraced the tournament in a way that few expected, especially with it coming so soon after another sporting triumph.
Lest you think New Yorkers were experiencing sports fatigue, though, soccer fever certainly infected Lower Manhattan. Downtown, the streets danced with the colors of shirts from near and far — the deep green of Mexico, the rich blue of Haiti, the bold yellow of Ecuador, and many others besides. Whichever of the 48 participating nations you hailed from, there was always somewhere you could watch your team and feel at home doing so. Bars opened early to show afternoon games – Carragher’s, which the Irish Star recently named the U.S.’s most popular sports bar for the tournament, was a particularly well-loved destination, but fans were spoiled for choice, with watch parties at Old Mates, London Martin & Co, Stout and many others packed to the rafters.
It wasn’t just bars, either. Venues like Battery Park, Brookfield Place and Conwell Coffee & Cocktail Hall got into the spirit of things, organizing watch parties that saw attendees forming lengthy queues in the hope of finding a seat. Indoor soccer park Socceroof showed every game, because of course it did – as manager Eric Herrera told us before the tournament started, “We wouldn’t be able to call ourself a soccer venue otherwise!” Even the Museum of Jewish Heritage staged a fascinating exhibition about Czech soccer international and Holocaust survivor Paul Mahrer, showcasing soccer’s deep connective tissue tying together history and culture.
All in all, the experience of being in New York’s oldest district during the World Cup was both rollicking good fun and a powerful endorsement of everything that makes this city special: its rich diversity, and well-earned reputation as a place where anyone can find a home. New York embraced the Norwegians rowing on the subway, the Scots drinking all the Tennent’s they could find, and even the US national team, until their sad defeat in the Round of 16.
As we’ve seen over the last month and a half, this game does unite the world. All soccer requires is a ball and a goal, two things that children can rustle up pretty much anywhere (and they do). The game’s ubiquity makes it truly global — and just like the world, it’s good and bad, ugly and beautiful, strange and occasionally wonderful. Bring on 2030.
Tom Hawking is a Brooklyn-based writer, editor and football fanatic. Find him at his website.
