By Robert Dean
Guest Columnist
If you’ve swiped your thumbs across social media lately, or lived on Planet Earth, you’ve seen that it’s World Cup time. While personally, I can’t stand the game of soccer, or “football” as the rest of the world calls it, I do love the global village aspect of the matches. Unlike the pinkies-up, respectful, high-end nature of the Olympics, the World Cup is a global bacchanalian party, and this year we’re showing off the best of a nation. And I love that people from all over the world are discovering America in a way that isn’t reflective of our politics, but our people.
What makes this year’s matches so fun is that America did win its first match. Still, so many people from Europe and all over the world are traveling not just to big cities like Houston, Miami, or New York, but also to smaller places like Alabama or Kansas. And they’re getting to see things like the sheer size of the American landscape, how no two states are the same, what our food tastes like, especially what good Mexican food is like. And if you’re a fan, they’re even getting their first tastes of things like Waffle House and ranch dressing.
I’ve been lucky enough to travel to many parts of America. I’ve been to Australia, Canada, and Europe. The experience has always shown me that people like Americans. We’re polite, friendly, curious, and always willing to hold a door open. In Europe, they don’t acknowledge a sneeze, which always throws me off. But, hey, they also don’t tip, so potato, tomato, you know?
Every time I’ve opened social media, I’ve seen stories from people being bewildered by the gas station monolith Buc-ee’s or trying their first BBQ, in whatever regional form it comes. It’s so funny to see people freak out over dryers, the size of our fridges, and basic grocery store options like fifty different kinds of barbecue sauce. Me, every time I hang with someone from overseas in my journalistic travels, I make people try a peanut butter and jelly. It’s been met with mixed results, but who cares? I also like trying McDonald’s in different countries.
But for all of our problems, America is still the place where if someone hears your accent, they’ll talk your head off for twenty minutes when you were just trying to grab a coffee. There is something charming about that aspect of who we are as a people and honestly, it’s one of our gifts to the world — we want to know your story. America isn’t Times Square or Hollywood. It’s something banal like fried chicken from a gas station that’s better than anything in London, or an old man who likely is not down with your political views but he’ll sure as hell tell you who’s got the cheapest gas in town. And sometimes, that’s enough around these parts.
Soccer isn’t for me, and that’s okay. I don’t have much to add beyond that we have MLS and some globally known names like David Beckham, Messi, and Ronaldo. Outside of that, search me. I’ve been in Europe when matches were happening and had no interest. But beyond my ignorance of the sport and its lack of home runs or passes laced into a receiver’s hands deep into the end zone, there is a reason the people of the world love their game. And you know what? That’s cool with me. In a time when we’re not the most popular people on the geopolitical scale, it’s always a good thing to let folks see us working at the shop, manning the grill, and saying hello as they pass us in the supermarket aisle. Those small moments are when Americans shine. If you hear someone with an accent, point them to the best taco spot, suggest they grab a Big Gulp, and maybe — just maybe — suggest an eagle tattoo. Let’s go all in.
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