What Happens After the World Cup?

Guest Post: Jason Lacsamana, Director, Programs and Partnerships

Conversations about the World Cup have taken over the news, social media, camp drop-offs, and lunchrooms. I’ve noticed that even people who didn’t care much about the tournament the last time the world came together to play now do. Maybe it’s location bias. Or maybe it’s something different. Perhaps Americans needed the humanity these games are proving is possible. From stories about Algerian fans flooding into Lawrence, Kansas, the Tartan Army taking over Providence and Miami; Mexico and South Korea fans arm in arm, rooting for each other; and people in Tijuana welcoming the Iranian team with open arms.

At its best, the World Cup gives us something that is pretty rare right now. Strangers become family. Cultural exchange that no one had to mandate or legislate. A shared language built around something people love – whether you call it futbol or soccer. The emotions many of us feel are big and joyful.

But here’s the question I keep coming back to: why do we have to wait for the World Cup to feel this way?

This kind of connection and appreciation for different communities and cultures is available to us every day. The beauty we’re seeing on those screens? It already exists in our personal villages. It’s our neighbors, the family down the street, the coworker whose story we haven’t taken the time to ask about, and the community across town that we’ve never thought to visit.

The World Cup is pulling back a curtain on something we already have, if we choose to see it.

I’d be less than honest if I didn’t name the harder truth, too. This moment, as beautiful as it is, also carries the weight of sportswashing. Families and fans denied visas. Referees barred from entry. Stories from before the tournament, about everything from racial tensions to genocide and war. Those stories fade as goals go in and highlight reels take over. The joy is real. And the inequities are real, too. We can hold both.

Because the work doesn’t pause for the celebration.

Even in moments of collective joy, our communities continue to navigate real barriers — to health care, housing, and belonging. LGBTQ+ families, marginalized and immigrant communities, and young people carrying weight no young person should carry. The urgency of their needs doesn’t pause during global sporting events.

At its best, the World Cup shows us who we could be every day — curious, open, and celebratory of each other’s humanity, while recognizing our histories and working to build systems that are more equitable and just. That’s the invitation. Not just for ninety minutes on a Tuesday afternoon, but for the long, ordinary, necessary work of building communities where everyone belongs.

Let’s not let this feeling fade when the trophy is lifted. Let’s ask ourselves: how do we live this way every day? How do we build the kind of world where we don’t need a global event to remind us that we already love each other and, even more importantly, that we care enough to put in the work to advance community power building, equity, and systems change?

That’s the real-world tournament. And it doesn’t end in July.