Every four years, a World Cup sparks a surge of football fever. When was the last time someone watched a game? Four years ago, perhaps. Do memories of playing still linger when a match is still a memory in the air? For many, football isn’t a passion that sticks year after year, yet the World Cup has a way of drawing attention for a limited window. The term World Cup becomes a shorthand for a global moment, even for those who feel detached, prompting the question: is there room to care for a month when interest has faded for years?
Yuri Vladimirovich Nikulin’s memoirs offer a different lens. He enlisted in the Red Army in 1939 at seventeen and was demobilized in 1946. Seven years away from family, friends, and home tested a person’s resolve. Returning to Belorussky station, his father answered the phone with the certainty of a survivor, while his mother kept a quiet distance to avoid overwhelming emotion. His father spoke of a Dynamo match at 16:00, signaling that the reunion could wait only until the game was seen. In that moment, football stood as a beacon of life’s continuity amid loss—a powerful reminder of why fans keep returning to the sport. It is a level of football passion that resonates across generations.
And yet, even among those who do not follow football regularly, the World Cup becomes a common thread every four years.
The World Cup in Qatar drew global attention long before kickoff. Many of those watching were still learning how to say the host country’s name with accuracy, while the tournament itself pressed forward as a major global event. The event carried a price tag, reported as high as two hundred billion dollars, marking it as the first World Cup in the Middle East. The setting—an absolutist monarchy where political parties and demonstrations are restricted—added another layer to the discussion about the tournament and its broader context.
Western media focused on the conditions surrounding the event, drawing attention to the construction-related casualties and the complex narrative around the arena’s readiness. Reports circulated about worker safety figures, with initial tallies shifting as investigations continued. In addition, questions arose about match-fixing rumors linked to the Ecuadorian team ahead of the opening game against Qatar, a match crucial for prestige. The outcome—Ecuador 2, Qatar 0—was interpreted by many as a test of both integrity and performance on the world stage.
The tournament’s surprises did not end there. Early results included a predictable British victory over Persia, yet doubters could not ignore the Iranian side scoring twice in a match that celebrated football’s global reach. Saudi Arabia stunned Argentina in a group-stage encounter, a sign that the sport’s dynamics could still surprise even the most seasoned followers. Disputes over refereeing and goal counts added to the drama, but the overarching takeaway was simple: the World Cup remains a stage where history can be rewritten in real time.
For those who do not count themselves as football fans, the World Cup still holds value through its informative stories and shared experiences. It offers a chance to witness how nations prepare, perform, and celebrate together, beyond politics and daily concerns. The championship held in Russia four years earlier remains a vivid memory for many: the critics had doubted Russia’s ability to host such a large event, yet the tournament left a lasting impression of enthusiasm, crowd energy, and organization. Scenes of tens of thousands on a city street celebrating a victory, or the mixed emotions after a final, are part of the World Cup’s enduring appeal.
Events that take place in countries not traditionally associated with football often provoke stronger reactions and a sense of astonishment. The global audience learns to appreciate infrastructures, crowds, and the presence of sport as a universal language. This broader perspective is a hallmark of globalization, where ideas and entertainment cross borders. Money flows through football, yet the experience of surprise, joy, and collective participation persists as the core value. A month or even a few weeks of competition can offer a respite from the pressures of politics and everyday affairs, a moment when the world seems to share a common rhythm. When a tournament runs, it creates a frame within which people can still imagine a brighter, more connected ordinary life.
These reflections show how the World Cup, even in lands not defined by football culture, can inspire wonder and a sense of belonging. The sport serves as a reminder that enthusiasm, infrastructure, and communal joy are not confined to a single place. The world, in turning toward this event, reveals a shared appetite for spectacle, challenge, and unity. It is a rare moment when the global audience pauses to enjoy the simple, unifying magic of a game well played. And in that pause, football proves its power to bring people together, even for a limited time, with laughter, cheers, and the shared relief of being part of something larger than oneself.