From The Latest Issue: Waiting For The World Cup

Every evening, the lights on the soccer fields behind my home in Texas flare up. One by one, the trucks start rolling in. The empty fields, now bathed in neon, start being pricked into shape as goalposts are dragged out and planted. Those who come to play gather together and assign roles. Then the games start.

A small audience gathers to watch, mostly joggers who’ve stopped in their tracks, or casual walkers like myself out to collect a few steps and add to the daily count. Then come the passionate ones—the Latinos with their iceboxes and folding chairs.

Soon, the small gathering has metamorphosed into a big one. We take sides and start cheering.

On one such evening, I stand next to Conrado, watching the game unfold. Conrado is from Argentina and comes to these parks almost every evening, either to watch or to play.

“I feel so lonely here in the US,” he tells me. “This is one place where I feel at home. It reminds me of how we used to spend our evenings in Buenos Aires. But Texas is good. Here I meet not only Argentinians, but also Mexicans, Colombians, and Brazilians. We all come here to watch or play soccer.”

Texas’ quiet transformation into a serious soccer state has been years in the making, anchored by world-class infrastructure and an increasingly sophisticated fan base. From FC Dallas’ Toyota Stadium in Frisco, which has long been a breeding ground for youth and professional talent, to Houston’s Shell Energy Stadium, where the game is played amid the pulse of the city, the foundations have been firmly laid. Austin’s Q2 Stadium, home to Austin FC, has only accelerated this momentum, earning a reputation as one of the finest soccer-specific stadiums in the country. It’s no coincidence, then, that the FIFA World Cup will stage matches in Texas. It’s great to have World Cup games being played in Texas, I say aloud to Conrado and the crowd. Surely, it must have generated excitement in the Latin American diaspora here. After all, nearly 40 per cent of Texans identify as Hispanic.

I expect a cheerful yes. Instead, I hear guffaws, followed by heads shaking in disappointment. “Only if it were that easy in the US,” someone says loudly in response. “We’ve been waiting for the World Cup to come here for years. But have you seen the ticket prices? None of us can afford them. The cheapest tickets are around USD700. Look around! Who do you think these passionate fans are?”

He sweeps his hand across the crowd and the players on the field. “Most of us work in construction, manufacturing, or agriculture. Latino families have helped build and sustain this economy. These ticket prices, forget travel costs or hotel stays, put the games out of reach for many working Texans. They want to exploit our loyalty for profit. And that too in a game that’s a people’s game, not a Taylor Swift concert.”

The rest of the crowd murmurs in agreement. Conrado chips in, “The whole idea of bringing the World Cup to the US was to tap into new fans, people who could use affordable tickets to get hooked on the sport. How does that happen when tickets are this expensive?”

“So where will you watch the games?”

“In a bar,” Conrado says. “That’s the next best place outside the stadium.”

A World Cup, played on Texas soil, yet out of reach for so many of the very people who’ve woven the cultural fabric of this place, is something that will be talked about long after the games are over. For now, though, the passion finds its own outlets. If not inside stadiums, then under floodlights in neighbourhood parks, where the cheering is louder, the loyalties purer, and the game still belongs to the people playing it.

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