We are Boston, so can we stop worrying and just enjoy the World Cup? Doubt it.

Sport admin June 10, 2026 0 Comments

We are Boston, so can we stop worrying and just enjoy the World Cup? Doubt it.

The World Cup is here and it’s all the rage in Greater Boston.

You can’t gas up your car, pick up an iced coffee at Dunks, or take a walk through your neighborhood without engaging in a conversation about Haiti vs. Scotland Saturday night in Foxborough. Every grade schooler from Eastport to Block Island knows that French superstar Kylian Mbappé has a chance to break the World Cup’s all-time scoring mark before the month is out. World Cup fever is a local epidemic.

Actually, none of this is true.

Here in the Route 1 corridor between Boston and Foxborough, the vaunted Cup has largely been a source of irritation and inconvenience. Ticket prices are astronomical, transportation promises to be confusing, local municipalities worry about congestion/security, and advocates have warned international fans about heightened immigration scrutiny.

Sounds like a party, no?

There was lots of celebration when FIFA — soccer’s ever-suspicious and all-powerful worldwide governing body — named Boston one of its 11 American host cities in June 2022. But our four-year run-up has been a study in chaos, confusion, and fiscal uncertainty.

Big surprise, right? I mean, did we really expect smooth sailing and universal agreement in a process that involves FIFA, the MBTA, the FBI, the governor of Massachusetts, the mayor of Boston, the mighty Foxborough Select Board, Meet Boston, Robert Kraft’s estimable empire, and mega-sponsors such as Coca-Cola and State Street?

Local headlines have been harsh as the event nears, and it’s not all about transportation, parking, and street closures.

⋅ Citing a “baffling conga line of communication breakdowns and bottlenecks,” Sunday’s Globe reported that 1,500 local volunteers for the event are in complete disarray as it nears.

⋅ The FBI last week warned, “Events like the World Cup can create conditions that attract human traffickers to exploit vulnerable people.”

⋅ In preparation for an influx of international travelers, the Massachusetts Department of Public Health has activated its emergency operations plan.

⋅ Beacon Hill solons last week fast-tracked a proposal that’ll allow bars to stay open as late at 3 a.m., and permit public drinking in designated areas. Rhode Island’s state legislature trumped that by saying bars will be open till 4 a.m. on game days.

“Boston is already a drunk city,” an Allston bartender told the Globe. “The extra hours aren’t going to do anything but cause more trouble.”

Brace yourself, Boston. We are less than 100 hours from Saturday’s first game. Fingers are crossed and hopes are high. But truly no one has any idea exactly how this is going to go.

Let’s face it, the Hub of the Universe is not great at pulling off global events. Remember when well-meaning folks tried to pitch Boston as host city for the 2024 Summer Olympics? We pretty much greeted local Olympic dreamers as if they were planning to bulldoze our homes to make way for a new interstate highway.

World Cup 2026 includes 48 teams and 104 games to be played in North America between now and July 19. Gillette Stadium (at the demand of FIFA, it will be known as “Boston Stadium”) will host seven of those games, five in the group stage, one in the Round of 32, and a quarterfinal match July 9. The final will be played at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey July 19.

New Englanders have never embraced the beautiful game that enchants the rest of the planet. We’re content to complain about Craig Breslow, speculate on trading Jaylen Brown, and wonder what Drake Maye can accomplish throwing passes to A.J. Brown.

Sadly, our reaction to the World Cup runs the gamut from annoyance to apathy.

That which the world celebrates … Boston denigrates. And I’m more guilty than most. If England and Ghana moved their their June 23 Foxborough match to my front lawn in Newton, I’d probably pull the shades and binge-watch “Mad Men” on the big screen in my den.

I’m old enough to remember when Brazil’s global star Pelé came to the States (1975), launching what was supposed to be a soccer boom that would change the landscape of American sports. We were going to catch up with the rest of the planet and finally appreciate the world’s most popular sport. It reminded me of high school teachers insisting that someday Americans would be measuring things in meters and kilos instead of feet and pounds.

Never happened.

Tens of millions of American kids play soccer today. It’s joyous, affordable, democratic, and the big kids don’t dominate. Youngsters learn spacing, patience, and teamwork. Futbol rules. You’ll never walk alone.

Unfortunately, this swell of American participation in the sport has never translated into an adult population of ticket-buying soccer watchers. Yellowed sports pages are peppered with articles about American teams and leagues that folded because of a lack of support, The New England Revolution have been around for 30 years but have never joined our Rushmore of Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, and Bruins.

The rest of the world thinks we’re daft and this will become obvious as we watch fans of Haiti, Iraq, Norway, Morocco, Ghana, England, France, and Scotland making futbol pilgrimages down Route 1, boisterously celebrating their teams. Prepare for Scotland’s Tartan Army marching into Gillette with the passion and conviction of the French resistance crowd defiantly belting out “La Marseillaise” in “Casablanca.”

Remember how Americans felt in 1980 when Mike Eruzione and friends beat the USSR, and then won the Olympic gold medal in Lake Placid? That’s what these games mean to fans of teams playing in the World Cup.

In this spirit, maybe we could we suspend cynicism, allow some grace, and stop worrying about traffic, parking, and the closure of Summer Street. Just for a few days?

Doubt it.

We are Boston.

It’s what we do.

So, let the games begin.

And a month from now, when “Boston Stadium” signage is taken down and Gillette’s goal posts are reinstalled, we’ll know if the whole thing was worth it.