Every so often, we’re reminded that sports fandom isn’t always a steady, year-round commitment. Sometimes, it arrives in waves.
Or, more accurately, in swarms.
A cicada emergence in this part of Indiana is not exactly a rare experience. It’s preceded by years of quiet, then suddenly, your backyard sounds drown out your voice if you’re talking outside on your smart phone.
Another week, another take on the FIFA Men’s World Cup tournament.
Every four years, something similar happens with American sports viewers, particularly the ones who don’t spend much time with soccer the other three years out of the cycle.
They emerge.
Now, before the year-round soccer crowd takes offense, this isn’t a knock. It’s an observation making the World Cup unique.
For long stretches, soccer in the U.S. sits outside the main rotation. Football, basketball, and baseball dominate the calendar and the conversation. Soccer has its following, but it’s more niche but passionate among its followers, nonetheless.
When the World Cup hits, suddenly it’s everywhere.
TVs that usually show college football or the Cubs game are tuned to matches from Qatar, Russia, Brazil, and in this tournament’s case, among several U.S. venues with a smaller version of stadiums in Canada and Mexico featuring tournament matches.
People replace “zero” or “nothing” with “nil” in their vernacular.
People who couldn’t define “extra time” this past May are now debating substitutions and penalty kicks in June.
The transformation is immediate just like cicadas.
They don’t trickle in. They arrive all at once. Loud, persistent, impossible to ignore.
And if you step back, the parallels are pretty hard to miss.
Long dormant periods - cicadas spend most of their lives underground, unseen. Casual soccer interest in the U.S. operates much the same way; quiet between major global events.
A sudden burst of activity - the emergence.
Lawns, trees, and sidewalks fill with cicadas the way living rooms, sports bars, and office breakrooms fill with World Cup talk.
Noise levels rise quickly - cicadas are monomaniacal about propagating their species, attracting mates in a full, sometimes deafening, chorus.
The World Cup does the same with a more wholesome bent. Calls for eligible mates are not part of the throng, but social media debates, group chats during matches, and hot takes fill the air.
A short window of peak presence - cicadas don’t hang around forever, and neither does the uptick in casual soccer viewership. A few weeks later, both fade out just as quickly as they arrived.
Is it fair to say both can be a bit overwhelming at times, but purposeful, nonetheless?
Cicadas, for all their noise, are a natural signal reminding us something cyclical is happening. Thirteen- or seventeen-year cycles are completed, and regardless of the cycle the quiet stretches aren’t truly permanent.
The World Cup does something similar for sports fans.
It reconnects people for a few weeks.
Soccer/futbol expands beyond its core audience. Friends who don’t normally talk soccer are texting during matches. Families gather around games they wouldn’t watch any other year. Kids get introduced to the beautiful game on a global stage.
This matters.
Side note – you’re reading this Thursday night and this very moment I’m viewing the U.S.A. – Türkiye match where our national team – thanks to Auston Trusty scored on a corner kick assist at the 2:15 mark – quickly.
So, where was I?
Oh… not every casual viewer becomes a lifelong fan very much like not every cicada sticks around long enough to make a lasting impression, but some do.
Some viewers keep watching. Kids sign up for youth leagues. Conversations carry forward into the next season.
The 2022 FIFA Men’s World Cup tournament led to my viewing of the English Premier League’s (EPL) Sunday telecast.
Do I watch full match? No.
I do, however, have a vague idea of the hottest sides, and maybe even a clue of what clubs are among the top of the EPL ladder.
For those who don’t stick with it, there’s still value in the moment, as the 2014, and the 2018 tournaments created for me.
The World Cup creates a shared experience for me that I’ve enjoyed more than the summer and winter Olympiads, and there isn’t the schmaltzy piano lead to a fulsome human-interest story.
There’s a match, panel analysis with an occasional feature, and then another match. Each match (during the group fixtures – oh, look at me using the word fixtures) ends within a few minutes greater than or a few minutes less than two hours.
I love that consistency. It’s easier to walk away from the match and come back to it without losing my sense of progress.
Another side note - It should be noted I watch much more rugby than I watch soccer, so “ladder,” and “fixture” are terms I’ve read, heard, and used in my rugby viewing and recap reading.
Casual soccer viewers, World Cup cicadas we are, don’t have to understand every rule to feel the tension of a knockout match or the energy of a late goal.
We just have to show up.
Cicadas don’t ask permission to be noticed either. They just arrive and quite audibly make their presence known.
The World Cup works the same way.
The tournament is in North America filling the air with noise and energy, attracting people who didn’t expect to be part of it.
Just as quickly, it’s gone until next time.
History assures us both will be back before you know it. 2030’s host will be two Iberian hosts – Spain and Portugal – and Morocco.
In the meantime, my fellow World Cup cicadas, let’s spend the three ensuing weeks making big noise.