There’s the Scottish soccer fan who marveled at our wildly varied landscape and welcoming communities as he walked from L.A. to Boston, arriving in time to see Scotland play Haiti on Saturday. There’s the German traveling in the opposite direction from Atlanta who could not get over the wonders of the hospitable South, from Stone Mountain to Buc-ees. There’s the Swede promoting the power of ranch dressing, the Italians marveling at fountain drinks with ice and free refills, the English rhapsodizing over chicken parm and just about everyone shouting out the friendliness of the businesses that served them. Even the “beauty” of American trucks, big yellow school buses and eight-lane freeways have gotten their fair share of shout-outs.
Just in time for the semiquincentennial, the churning waves of social media discontent have parted and given us a glimpse of how these United States look (and taste) to wide-eyed World Cup attendees. And it is glorious.
Also a welcome relief. Our stint as a World Cup host has not, you will surely be shocked to hear, been without controversy. President Trump is on record insulting many of the countries participating in the games. His aggressive immigration and tariff policies, general and continual dismissal of NATO and, especially, his decision to join Israel in a war against Iran prompted many calls to boycott this year’s tournament, which the U.S. is co-hosting with Mexico and Canada. As recently as last month, the combination of these concerns, as well as high ticket prices, were being blamed for the many unbooked hotel rooms and unclaimed seats in various host cities.
Then there were warnings about the American summer heat and complaints about the adoption of hydration breaks and the four-quarter system, as well as the fact that many of the stadiums were miles away from city centers. “Don’t try to walk to MetLife stadium!” became a popular post on social media by Americans afraid that Europeans didn’t understand the reality of the U.S. interstate highways.
Scottish superfan Craig Ferguson.
(Jamie Johnston / Sipa USA via AP)
Scottish soccer fan Craig Ferguson (not the comedian) didn’t listen. It took him eight hours and he doesn’t recommend it — seriously, do not do it — but he walked the 14 miles from MetLife to Central Park to prove it can be done. At least by someone who has spent four months traversing the country.
In February, he set out from the Santa Monica Pier heading for Boston in an effort to raise awareness of, and nearly $1.4 million for, the charity Scottish Action for Mental Health and become the first man to walk across the United States in a kilt. Arriving Friday, he achieved those goals (and got to see Scotland win its first World Cup game since 1998) after documenting his adventures exploring the miraculous diversity of the American landscape and shoring up the notion of the stubborn, indomitable Scot.
He is just one of many content creators using the World Cup as a reason to explore America. The most famous thus far is a German fan known only as Freddy, who has gone viral on X with posts of his travels through the South in which he is thrilled by everything — the fireworks at a warm-up game, the size of a college stadium, the mountain views in Georgia and Tennessee, the music of Ella Langley, the number of choices at a soda station, the quiet beauty of the Louisiana countryside, the commercial magnitude of Outdoor World and Buc–ees (“DUDE LMAO THIS IS A GAS STATION”), the gastronomic pleasures of Waffle House and Wendy’s. The South hasn’t had such an enthusiastic booster as Freddy since novelist Pat Conroy died.
FIAGO (Finn Agostinelli) provided similar rhapsodies for Chicago, especially its hot dogs (“Petition to get a Portillo’s on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg!!”) and World Cup visitors have quickly learned the perils of the great Texas versus Kansas City barbecue debate. The hospitality of American towns and cities, and the tastiness of American food, is apparently a big revelation for many World Cup visitors — the online praise for mac ‘n’ cheese and chicken-fried steak, tater tots and Italian subs, has become so overwhelming that some are beginning to fear significant weight gain. Call it the FIFA 15.
Given all the legitimate political concerns swirling around this World Cup, and the inevitable fan complaints, it isn’t surprising that “visitors in America” has become social media’s song of the summer. It’s a treat to have our Big Gulps and Taco Bell addictions, our Walmarts and enormous parking structures, praised instead of shamed — and to see the awe many newcomers feel when confronted with the size and diversity of our country. (And if Europe decides to start putting ice in soda, that would be great too).
Paraguay fans hold a flag during the second half of their team’s World Cup group stage match against the United States on Friday.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
At a time when our federal government seems determined to put us at odds with the rest of the world, it’s lovely to be reassured that the world does not hate us, and perhaps more importantly, that we are capable of welcoming that world with open arms. After all, who’d have predicted that Lawrence, Kan., would become a bastion of pro-Algerian pride? This wide-eyed admiration of what we actually look like, on the ground, from sea to shining sea, is a balm on more than one level, and so is the evidence that many Americans are living up to that admiration even when our leaders are not.
In a country this large, political differences are inevitable. But for more than a decade, we have allowed them to become divisions, exploited with endless messaging of “red state, blue state, them state, you state” designed to oversimplify actual life in any given place and incite a cultural civil war.
Ferguson and Freddy and all the World Cup visitors who post — or don’t post — offer a sweet reprieve from all that fury and shame by reminding us that, despite all our very real problems, America is big and beautiful and far more dynamic than any color-coded map could ever capture. And that may be the best 250th birthday present of all.
