Or, how to sound like you know what you're talking about at the watch party.
At the very end of Hero, the official film of the 1986 World Cup in Mexico, narrator Michael Caine tells us that “Diego Armando Maradona has reached the peak, and achieved immortality.” It’s the sort of line that would ordinarily feel eye-rollingly grandiose in a sports documentary. But after eighty minutes of vivid green fields and sweeping VHS drama, as saturated slow-motion shots of ecstatic Argentinian footballers engulf the screen and a Rick Wakeman synth rises like flare smoke in the background, it feels self-evident. TV adverts for U.S.-only franchise sports might tell you otherwise, but only one sporting event on the planet can offer someone a place in eternity.
Perhaps that’s why it has always been so seductive to the ego-obsessed and power-hungry. Italy won the second World Cup in 1934 at the National Stadium of the Fascist Party in Rome, in front of Benito Mussolini; Argentina won it as hosts in 1978 playing under the noses of the brutal military junta in the middle of its Dirty War; only eight years ago, Vladimir Putin watched from on high as Russia opened the tournament with a five-goal thrashing of Saudi Arabia in Moscow. Six billion people will engage with this summer’s orgy of football in one way or another—basically three in four people on Earth. It’s the sort of platform that money and bluster can’t usually buy.
Besides, there’s a massive gold trophy in the middle of it all, so it’s no surprise that the central character in the long run-up to the tournament has been Donald Trump. He and FIFA President Gianni Infantino (a man who treasures his proximity to power so dearly that he overlooks Trump constantly calling him “Johnny” in public) have had their grinning faces at the top of every news item over the past year. In fact, since Infantino awarded Trump the made-up FIFA Peace Prize last November, the 2026 World Cup has strayed into territory foreign even to those black-mark tournaments of the past.
The Iranian national team has moved its training base from the United States to Mexico, under the cloud of war, and their staff have been denied visas to their scheduled group games in Los Angeles and Seattle. Somali referee Omar Artan has been dropped from the list of officials after being denied entry to the US this week. Fans have balked at unprecedentedly high ticket prices, while those who have shelled out face the prospect of stadiums peppered with ICE agents. It is a credit to FIFA’s stubbornness that they have persisted with their “Football Unites the World” campaign.
But inevitably, when Mexico kicks off the first game against South Africa at the Estadio Azteca on Thursday, these problems will be drowned out. The sheer number of games will help—this summer’s tournament is enormous. The newly expanded format will have 48 nations playing 104 games over 39 days. The preliminary group stage alone—12 groups of four, with 32 teams advancing—will feature more games than the whole Qatar 2022. This thing will sprawl out across 16 North American cities, from Vancouver to Mexico City, before focusing on the United States for its latter stages and winding up with the final at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey on July 19. Basically, it won’t be possible to escape the World Cup over the next five weeks. Don’t try. Learn to fall in love with it.
But to fall in love with it, there are a few things you need to know first. Some ground rules, base-level knowledge. Enough, at least, to not sound stupid when you’re watching a game at the bar. And at most, enough to make you a life-long fan.
The sensible money is Spain. Their squad is spearheaded by the same gifted young players who inspired their European Championship victory two years ago. The only difference is that wingers Lamine Yamal and Nico Williams are now that much older, more experienced, and more refined. Their midfield is so rich in talent that it’s almost gluttonous: Barcelona’s two technicians, Pedri and Gavi; Arsenal’s master of control Martin Zubimendi; Manchester City’s subtle enforcer Rodri. They’ll likely play their third-best goalkeeper, Unaí Simon, instead of Premier League player-of-the-year contender David Raya or La Liga winner Joan Garcia. The fact that that’s the only thing worth criticizing about this team before they play their first game in a straightforward group means they’re worth their status as favorites.
Norway’s official team photograph for the World Cup was taken by David Yarrow, who had the players dress up as Vikings and pose, unsmiling, on the shore of a fjord. Most players looked like they were playing dress-up, while Erling Haaland seemed to have been there for centuries. Haaland is the most devastating pure goalscorer in the world and very likely the greatest in history. At 6’5” and 200 lbs, he’s a total bastard to play against as well, running defenses ragged and bullying defenders on his path to goal. Behind him is the creative and technically gifted Martin Ødegaard, who should be given the freedom of the midfield by head coach Stale Solbakken. The rest of the team is built around solid professionals who will likely be able to keep things tight for the brighter stars.
The expansion to 48 teams has made space for a handful of unfamiliar countries and four first-timers in Uzbekistan, Jordan, Cape Verde, and Curaçao. None of them are expected to get out of their groups, but Curaçao are worth watching either way. With a population of roughly 200,000—comparable to that of Peoria, Arizona—they are, by a distance, the smallest nation ever to qualify for a World Cup. Their sudden rise to this level is mostly down to a decade-old policy of selecting Dutch professionals with Curaçaoan roots, rather than just players from the island itself—only one player in their World Cup squad was born in Curaçao. But the man who brought it all together was the well-traveled and much-loved Dutch head coach, Dick Advocaat, who has now become a national hero. He stood down from his role a few months ago to take care of his sick daughter, but her health has since improved, so Advocaat will become the oldest coach ever at a World Cup.
There is a chance that Cristiano Ronaldo, who has been dancing around traffic cones and racking up goals for a couple of years in the Saudi Arabian desert, fires Portugal to glory and secures the one trophy that’s always eluded him. But there is a far greater chance that he will stand around in front of Portugal’s otherwise frighteningly gifted team, demand the ball, and fling his arms in the air in a tantrum when he doesn’t get it. The 41-year-old megastar and billionaire, who once flew past defenses like a tactical missile, now more closely resembles a trebuchet: dangerous, but only when wheeled into position. Win or lose, he’s going to make himself the story.
Obed Vargas was born in Anchorage, Alaska, made his Major League Soccer debut for Seattle Sounders at 15, and represented the United States at youth level before switching to Mexico. Now 20, he’s looked solid enough since moving to Atletico Madrid in February that he could be the foundation for Mexico’s midfield—and with home advantage for their first few games, at altitude at the Estadio Azteca, they could hang around for a while.
Jersey design has broadly crossed over into bland minimalism over the past few years, but there are a couple of standouts here: the rainbow pinstripes on Japan’s away kit, Mexico’s throwback Aztec sculpture imprint, sharp-looking collars for Uruguay and France. Nike’s Hollywood-inspired goalkeeper jerseys are something else entirely though, all bombastic patterns and neon colors that bring back the extroverted heyday of Jorge Campos. You can’t go wrong with any of them, but the lava-lamp-detailed Nigeria jersey is the standout.
Stay out until midnight EDT on Saturday, when Australia kicks off against Turkey, then sleep it off before a four-game run on Sunday, June 15. Curaçao will try to perform a miracle against Germany, Japan and the Netherlands are both genuinely good, and Cote D’Ivoire will do their best to break down an Ecuador team who just don’t concede goals anymore. After all that, you’ll be too exhausted to care whether Sweden vs. Tunisia is actually good.