​As the start of a Mexico City thunderstorm swirls high above, dark clouds coil in a slow, swirling motion, a pair of English fans remain unfazed. It is three hours before Mexico meets England in the most eagerly awaited match at the Estadio Azteca in four decades. Authorities issue warnings to seek cover as police enact electrical storm precautions. Yet these adults, buoyed by pure vibes, are absorbed in a childlike pastime: a chalk-drawn hopscotch spread across the gravel outside the stadium’s Cabecera Norte, with “Viva Mexico” perched at the top. Locals, both young and old, revel in it.
And when you stroll the outer perimeter of the World Cup’s most iconic venue before the blockbuster last-16 clash, the same warm, uplifting scenes greet you at every corner. Event volunteers clad in blue and green offer a Limbo dance opportunity for passers-by; half a dozen Mexican dance groups greet ticket holders to the south of the main entrance; Mexicans volley playful barbs with English fans as they queue to enter the arena.
Two England supporters play hopscotch with Mexican locals outside the Estadio Azteca (Kieran Jackson/The Independent). Thousands of Mexican fans parade the streets ahead of the game (Getty Images). World Cup volunteers create a Limbo dance moment for passers-by (Kieran Jackson/The Independent). It is an intoxicating, smile-inducing, dopamine-boosting atmosphere. This is the essence of the most significant event in world sport: a fusion of different nationalities and cultures, old and young, men and women, all converging, with passion and fervor, in a setting that feels irrational and illogical—if not for the clash of two national teams.
This captures the ideal Jules Rimet envisioned when he founded the first World Cup in 1930. In his words: “It’s about bringing together countries from around the world, people who might otherwise have nothing in common… at least for a little while.” And, thankfully, 96 years on, in its 23rd edition, the tournament still embodies this overarching spirit, despite every obstacle faced by those in the stands.
The message to FIFA is simple: you may take our affordable tickets, our visas, our water bottles, our stadium names, our red-card suspensions. But you cannot take, nor diminish, the heartwarming blend of multiculturalism; the interweaving of peoples, races, and religions. And with it, the sense of something greater.
This was my first World Cup as an attendee, and whether wandering through city centers, navigating airport terminals, or moving through stadium precincts, the most striking feature has been the palpable enthusiasm, devotion, and sheer enjoyment on display among different groups at every turn, even in the most unexpected settings.
Two weeks ago, Iran faced Egypt in a crucial Group G encounter, a match dubbed the first-ever World Cup pride match—for better SEO.