Pretend It’s a Forest

The World Cup is an international “soccer”—or, as the rest of the world calls it, “football”—tournament celebrated every four years. This year’s edition was hosted across North America, meaning Canada, Mexico, and the United States welcomed not only the teams but millions of fans from around the globe.

An interesting experiment and, in my opinion, a completely unnecessary one, because when everyone hosts, nobody really hosts. While Mexico embraced the tournament with celebrations and hope—“¿y si sí?”—that this might finally be the year, the United States cared little or not at all unless the U.S. happened to be playing, and Canada seemed to have forgotten it was one of the hosts.

Adding to that, this year’s World Cup felt less like a celebration of the beautiful game and more like an ode to capitalism, with endless favoritism toward certain countries and players we won’t name, refereeing decisions that left coaches wondering whether they knew the rules after all, and VAR: a system supposedly designed to correct mistakes, but only when it’s convenient for certain teams.

Putting all of that aside, as someone who couldn’t care less about playing sports—but who thoroughly enjoys watching them with a cold beer and a salty snack—I have to admit this World Cup won me over. It brought joy, hope, and more than a few surprises by introducing many of us to teams, players, and countries we might never have discovered otherwise. Like Cape Verde. What a delightful way to meet you. Especially your 40-year-old goalkeeper, Vozinha, in whom I am now emotionally invested. But that’s a story for another column.

One of my favorite parts, though, has been the camaraderie. Nationality stopped mattering, and we all found common ground in one shared objective: wanting anyone to win except, of course, Argentina and Messi.

So, what do you watch, pursue, or pretend to care about once the final whistle blows on the 19th? For me, preferably something that doesn’t require effort or any measurable degree of competence. The following is a list of activities to keep the football spirit alive. Points, trophies, and competitive spirit are optional, but participation is highly encouraged.

Yellow and Red Cards: As someone who highly dislikes confrontation, I strongly support calling people out when they deserve it. Channel your inner referee and pull a card when someone misbehaves. For example:

Yellow card: Letting their dog poop, then pretending they didn’t notice.

Red card: Trying to sneak back into the St. Charles after getting 86’d.

The Official Downieville Legends Program: Let’s sit down with two local legends and have them tell us their best stories for 90 full minutes, plus extra time. Any discrepancies regarding dates, names, or whether that really happened will be reviewed by our local VAR, Cory Peterman, whose decision is final.

Lift the Cup: While none of us will probably ever lift a World Cup in our lifetimes, the cup-lifting tournament takes place every night at the St. Charles. Unfortunately, it is an activity that will neither be televised nor celebrated by anyone, but participation remains open to all.

While I wasted hours of my life watching a group of men deliver the finest dramatic performances of their careers while chasing a ball around a field, I have to admit I’m truly going to miss it. But for now, locals, old-timers, newcomers, tourists, and visitors from other galaxies, let’s pretend this column actually got you excited about football—yes, football—and that you’ll be cheering and lifting the cup at the St. Charles during next Sunday’s final. Unless Argentina wins.