Yes, I know the World Cup ended Sunday. But I’m still buzzing and I have a story I still want to tell.

My love of soccer was cemented when I was 11 years old during the 1994 World Cup, hosted here in the US. That year my father had a sabbatical from his faculty position, so our family moved to Melbourne, Australia for six months. While I loved my Aussie experience, I was devastated to miss seeing a World Cup in person. Instead, I set my alarm for 4 AM every morning and dragged myself out of bed to watch the first game of the day. I could usually catch most of a second game too, before I had to leave for school.

This worked beautifully through the group stage until that fateful day: July 4, 1994, USA vs. Brazil in the round of 16. Like so many US fans, I watched with delight as my courageous American heroes held off the mighty Brazilian attack through the first half. I was furious at the brutal elbow thrown by Brazilian leftback Leonardo injuring Tab Ramos, and I dared to hope that the sending off he received might give the US a chance.

As the minutes of the second half ticked by, I knew the time for me to leave for school was drawing ever nearer. I was distraught. I couldn’t miss this. I needed to see this game out. I turned to my Mom with my most pleading puppy dog eyes look. Much to my surprise and in a moment I will never forget, without me even saying a word, she nodded and said, “You can stay and watch.”

It was just a few minutes later that Bebeto finally cracked the US defense, and Brazil, of course, held on to win. I remember shedding some tears and glumly putting on my backpack to head to school.

Far more than that, however, I remember the feeling of elation and love when my Mom saw how much this game meant to me and let me watch to the end. I felt seen and loved. That shared memory is one I treasure.

Fast forward 32 years to July 4, 2026.

My wife and I and our two daughters, ages 9 and 3, flew across the country to Seattle, where my parents live. Two days later, the six of us, along with one of my older sisters and her kids, headed into the heart of the city to join the crowd supporting team USA in another round of 16 game on home soil. We didn’t have tickets, but that didn’t matter. The atmosphere and passion was incredible. Seattle is a soccer city, but this was on another level.

The match itself. . . was terrible, even more disappointing than the loss back in ’94. From a US perspective, the less said about that the better. But being there at the Seattle waterfront watch party, sharing it with my family, matters far more than who won the game (though the loss, and especially the way we lost, will hurt for a long time).

Soccer podcast host and media pundit, Roger Bennet, riffing on a quote from former Liverpool manager Jurgen Klopp, says that soccer (and I’ll extend it to sports in general) is the “most important least important thing, a place where you can suffer the darkest agonies and walk away unscathed.” There’s something to that.

Expanding our emotional capacity without doing real harm is a valuable thing. Maybe the roller-coaster journey of fandom makes us more empathetic and compassionate. Or maybe Bennett says that because he’s an Everton fan and a fan of the USMNT.

There is a lot about sport, especially the big business side of things, that’s problematic. But the memories I have of shared moments, both ecstatic and heart-breaking, are the reason I keep coming back to it. In moments like that packed watch party in Seattle or our living room in Melbourne there can be genuine human connection, sometimes with strangers but especially with those we’re closest to. And that’s not easily found in our disconnected and individualistic world. Of course, I wish the US had beaten Brazil in ’94 and Belgium a few weeks ago, but I wouldn’t trade my memories of those days for a victory in either game.

And watch out for the US in 2030!