Every four years, football briefly becomes the centre of global culture. The 2026 FIFA World Cup is already doing what it always does best: forcing billions of people to care about the same stories at the same time. This edition is the biggest in history, featuring 48 teams instead of 32, spread across three countries and 104 matches. The format is new, the geography unprecedented, the questions familiar. Who wins? Which star defines the tournament? Which underdog captures the world's imagination?
A Personal Journey Through Football
My own relationship with football started at another World Cup. In 1998, PTV's coverage brought the tournament into homes across Pakistan and cracked open a window to a much larger world. Dennis Bergkamp's winner against Argentina in Marseille, that extraordinary takedown from a 60-yard pass and the outside-of-the-boot finish, made me fall in love with the Oranje on the spot. I remember the excitement around Brazil and Ronaldo, then the bewilderment of his subdued final, a performance that left a lingering sense of unease. Croatia's run caught me too, Davor Šuker clinical up front as the debutants reached third place and announced themselves on the world stage. Around the same time, ESPN introduced me to English football, and watching Manchester United through the 1997-98 season became a lifelong attachment.
What strikes me looking back isn't just the football. It's how quickly the sport became a key into different cultures, histories and whole societies.
Football as a Lens for Society
That's why football has never really been just a sport. It's one of the most effective windows into culture, politics and social change, a lesson I absorbed through an unlikely source. Like most football-obsessed teenagers of my generation, I was addicted to the simulation game Championship Manager. Before you even started a save, the game flashed information about Kick It Out, English football's campaign against 'racism.' That was the first time I'd encountered the phrase. Football was teaching things that had nothing to do with formations or transfer budgets. It made you curious about the world beyond the touchline.
It also raised questions about representation. Growing up, South Asians were visible across British society, except at the top of football. Zesh Rehman and Michael Chopra became notable precisely because they were exceptions, their careers exposing structural barriers that had little to do with talent. Scouting networks overlooked communities without established routes into elite academies, stereotypes about physicality persisted, and many South Asian families saw football as an uncertain path. Meanwhile, the sport was confronting bigger social questions. Campaigns against racism gathered momentum after repeated abuse from the terraces, set against the aftermath of Stephen Lawrence's murder and rolling debates about institutional racism. Football wasn't separate from those conversations. It was inside them. Progress has been made and more British Asians are coming through academies than ever before, but representation at the highest level still falls well short of demographic reality.
The Expansion and Its Surprises
The tournament's expansion reflects these same tensions. Going from 32 to 48 teams has drawn criticism, much of it fair. But football's greatest strength is its capacity for surprise. World Cups aren't only remembered for champions; they're remembered for giant-killers. The United States beating England in 1950. Algeria shocking West Germany in 1982. Cameroon overcoming Argentina in 1990. Germany's 7-1 demolition of Brazil in Brazil in 2014. Saudi Arabia stunning Argentina in 2022. These moments endure because they expose how fragile reputation really is. The opening days of this tournament have already made the point. Morocco held Brazil to a 1-1 draw, South Korea beat the Czech Republic 2-1, Australia upset Türkiye 2-0, and debutants Curaçao, the smallest nation in the World Cup, celebrated a historic first World Cup goal against Germany. The gap between established powers and emerging nations is almost always narrower than the rankings suggest. The World Cup shouldn't just be a gathering of elites. It should also show where football is going.
Fandom and Identity
That connection between football and identity is why debates about fandom get so heated. One of the stranger arguments in modern football is that supporters can only legitimately follow a club if they live near it. By that logic, millions of fans worldwide would be disqualified from the sport's culture altogether. A teenager in Lahore can support Manchester United as genuinely as someone born inside Greater Manchester. The emotional investment doesn't become less real because it crosses a border. And while football is ultimately about winning, real football culture looks nothing like how glory-hunters experience the game. Bradford City, Portsmouth, Derby County and Sheffield Wednesday have all drawn crowds of over 20,000 while outside England's top division. Several League One and League Two clubs pull in attendances that first-division sides across much of Europe would envy. These fans aren't chasing trophies. They're sustaining traditions, communities and, often, working-class ideologies.
Club vs. International Football
That said, it helps explain why club football so often surpasses international football in quality. The Champions League assembles the world's best players in sophisticated tactical systems built over months with vast financial resources. International teams rarely get that continuity. Gary Neville has spoken often about how England squads of his era were fractured by club rivalries, players arriving carrying domestic tensions from United, Arsenal, Liverpool and Chelsea. For most of the modern era, elite footballers spent nine months chasing league titles and European glory, and only a few weeks representing their countries. Only in the latter stages of a World Cup, when national narratives catch fire and entire populations invest in a single cause, does international football generate anything comparable.
Favourites and Challenges
The bookmakers have settled on six favourites. France have perhaps the best attacking arsenal in the tournament. Spain keep refining the possession model that conquered Europe. Argentina arrive as defending champions with tactical versatility. Brazil remain football's most mythologised nation, with unrivalled tournament pedigree. England have extraordinary squad depth, and Portugal combine an experienced midfield with technical fluidity. But tournaments are rarely decided by talent alone. Conditions across the United States, Canada and Mexico will test squads differently, travel distances are far greater than in most previous World Cups, and heat, humidity and recovery time may matter as much as tactics. One old frustration remains: knockout ties can still be settled by penalties. Shootouts are unforgettable and a cruel way to end years of preparation.
The Enduring Magic
Maybe that's why the World Cup stays so compelling. It isn't the purest footballing contest. It's something richer, bringing together cultures, histories and identities on the same stage for a month, lifting unknown players into sudden global visibility and creating stories that last for generations. In an increasingly fragmented age, that shared attention might be football's greatest achievement. The boy from 1998 will mostly stream this one on his phone, supporting teams from the Global South and keeping a close eye on how the Manchester United contingent gets on for their countries. And when it's done, the transfer rumour mill will go into overdrive. It always does.
Irtiza Shafaat Bokharee – The writer is a freelance columnist and a social scientist.
