The World Cup - The Most Beautiful Game

In this episode Wendell reflects on Trinidad and Tobago's history of attempting to qualify for the World Cup, and why the tournament brings out the best of the beautiful game, with nations of all sizes competing in a winner-take-all tournament every four years. 

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Transcript

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November nineteenth, nineteen eighty nine. It was a clear, hot day, and approximately thirty-five thousand Trinidadi, all dressed in red, white and black, packed out at Hazley Crawford Stadium in Portospin, Trinidad. The National Stadium, while tiny, is a great place to watch a football match with the mountains on one side and back then a view of the ocean on the other. Fans danced and sang to the rhythm section, waving flags and whining down the place in a festive, anticipatory atmosphere. This was the final qualifying match for Trinidad and Tobago, who only needed to draw to qualify for the country's first ever global tournament, the World Cup. The team, which was called the Strike Squad, featured a golden generation of talent from the Twin Island Republic, including a young teenage Tabegonian named Dwight York, who would eventually go on to win multiple trophies under Sir Alex Ferguson at Manchester United. Also in the squad was the little magician, Russell Latape, who would go on to play for storied clubs such as Porto, Hibernian, and Rangers. Everett Gally Cummings, the charismatic coach of the team who spotted a mischievous but engaging smile, had led the team to a position where a single point, a draw, would see Trinidad and Tobago qualify as the smallest nation ever. There were songs written about the team. Cars had flags on them. The whole country seemed to be adorned in red. It felt like destiny. It seemed so inevitable that the government had already declared it a national holiday. Our opponent was a largely unimpressive US men's national team. A bunch of guys who could walk down any street in America and not be recognized. And this game was at home, our home. The stadium was a cauldron of sound and fury. It was truly written in the stars. Except it wasn't. In the 31st minute, Paul Caligui took a pass from Tab Ramos, beat a defender, and hit a dipping volley across Michael Maurice's goal, the Trinidadian keeper. Maurice looked like he had it, but it went past him into the net. He would later reveal that he had lost the ball in the sun, and we collectively as a nation lost our chance at World Cup Glory. There are pockets of interest where I live in Shreveport, Louisiana, particularly among various Hispanic communities. But for the most part, the 2026 tournament is met with ambivalence. Sure, you could see a random messy or Mbapped jersey on kids around town, but outside of promotions at major retailers and ubiquitous programming on TV, you wouldn't even know there was a tournament happening, much less one featuring 48 different countries vying for a single trophy. Now, let's be real about this. The number of teams actually having a shot at winning the World Cup is about 10. So for the other 38 teams and their fans, they're just happy to be a part of it. But more on that later. For some context, the last World Cup had an estimated 5.6 billion viewers. That is a slightly larger number than the 126 million that watched the Patriots versus the Seahawks in the Super Bowl in 2026. The World Cup is truly a global game. What most people don't realize is that the goal that separated Trinidad and the US in 1989 sent our countries in different directions. The US jumped at the opportunity to invest in the game, and U.S. soccer's resurgence began. Without that goal, guys like Christian Pulisik, Tim Howard, London, Donovan, and Clint Dempsey might have had decent pro careers, but they would not have had the global exposure that they do today. Without that goal, the MLS would not have been born in 1996. A league that now boasts 30 teams and features global superstars like Sun Hyung Min, Luis Suarez, and a diminutive Argentinian by the name of Lionel Messi. Americans love a good story. And that success leading into the World Cup in 1990 and then hosting the tournament in 1994 bolstered interest in the sport and gave homegrown players the opportunity to apply their trade abroad. People in America began to see the global reach of the game and its potential, but more importantly, its potential with the US national team being a part of it. I remember hanging out in a pub with a retired Air Force officer about 15 years ago, and he was waxing poetic about seeing Pele play with the New York Cosmos back in the North American Soccer League, which existed for about 16 years until the mid-80s. And he was lamenting that the MLS would suffer the same fate as that league, where it would be popular for some time and then fizzle out. Now, I told him that globalization gave the game a much better shot this time around. But truth be told, that was more cockeyed optimism and Kentucky windage on my part. I mean, who the hell was I to argue with a retired Air Force officer who had decades of experience, but more importantly had seen the height of the NASL and its ultimate demise? But I digress. But the MLS has persisted and it has given the US the opportunity to participate in the global game year in and year out, not just every four years. No one who knows the game would ever argue that the MLS is a top league globally, but it is good enough and it exists in a country that has enough global cachet to be attractive to superstars, even if it's for one last professional contract in their career. Now, for the Trinidadian side of things, for those who live through it, that one goal will always be a dagger to our heart. Sure, lots of players from that squad went on to have great international careers. But while we dominated the Caribbean region after that qualifying miss, we had to sit on the sidelines and watch as our regional rival Jamaica qualified before us and became the darlings of the 1998 World Cup as the reggae boys. I remember watching that Trinidad US game in our apartment in Belmont. Um I had uh I had some cereal that my mom had brought back from the US on a vacation that she went on. And I had been saving this last set of cereal, I think it was like tricks, and I'd saved it for so long it had gone stale, but I didn't care. Like I excitedly ate it in front of our 13-inch TV as the game kicked off. Kind of like a good luck meal for such a special occasion. Now, foreshadowing was not really part of my worldview up to that point, but the staleness of the cereal should have been a sign. You know, after the game, as trainees, we did what we always do. We turned to humor to cope with a national tragedy. We made light of our keeper's admission that he had lost the ball in the sun. And out of respect for him as a professional, I will not repeat the phrase, but make no mistake, it hurt. And to be honest, it still hurts to this day. You see, if we had made it, we would have been one of the other teams. Since there was no real shot at winning the tournament, just being there was an achievement. And it's, you know, back then, uh, you know, after several years, I had just quietly put it away as a dream that a country as small as ours would never achieve. I would never know the joy of seeing my countrymen take the field in the biggest tournament in the world, to see my national flag hung in rafters or you know, um bandied around in stadiums next to Brazilian flags and Dutch flags and German flags. Trinidad and Tobago, like many countries, is a football mad nation. And yes, I have been using football and soccer interchangeably up to this point. But just to clarify, when I say football, I don't mean the NFL. I say soccer when referring to the U.S. and its participation in the game for clarity, but it is not my favorite word. Um but anyway, like other British colonies, we we also play cricket and we've had lots of success uh globally, both as part of the West Indies cricket team and individually with icons such as Brand Lara. But football is still king. Like other Caribbean nations, we also have consistent representation on the international track and field stage for the Olympics and the World Championships. But at the end of the day, no matter what time of year it is, if you walk around Trinidad and Tobago, you are likely to see both men and women in their favorite club football shirts as well as national team jerseys from all over the world. And that's because Trinidadians we will always bleed red, white, and black when it comes to our football. But we know that the likelihood of us ever winning the World Cup is um, okay, hold on. Let me let me Google it. Let me see. Okay, here's the result of me asking Google what our chances are what are our statistical chances of winning the World Cup. While nothing is impossible, and impossible is italicized, the statistical likelihood of Trinidad and Tobago winning the FIFA World Cup is vanishingly small, also in italics, under current global football dynamics, effectively near zero compared with established football power nations. And because of this, most Trineys have their own global powerhouse team that they root for, often with rabid enthusiasm. So within my group of friends, uh, the football lovers all have their teams and reasons why they love them. So I have been a Brazil fan since I first saw guys like Zico and Socrates playing in the early 80s. My boy Darren, who is also a Chelsea fan, has the good sense to also be a fan of the Cele Sau. Uh Kevin Crosby, who was a recent guest on the podcast in the For the Love of Mass episode, has always been a fan of Germany. Uh Ariston is a diehard Argentina fan. Ukang loves France, and so on and so on. So our WhatsApp groups during World Cups are always interesting because we all have different teams that we root for, and even the guys who don't have a team often pick a squad to talk about and follow, or they take a rooting interest against one of the teams that we follow. Um, I don't think there will ever be a World Cup cycle where I won't have to endure some type of joke or meme about the tragedy of the Minerazo in 2014, where Brazil capitulated to the German national team to the tune of seven goals to one on home soil. But on the flip side, after falling in love with the Cele Sau as a kid because of their balletic, poetic, and wonderfully creative play. I have seen Brazil win both the 1998 and 2002 World Cups with an Olympic gold medal and a bunch of Copa America trophies thrown in to boot. By the way, the win in 2002 was against Germany. So what comes around goes around, I guess. At its core, football is a very simple sport. All you need is a ball or a light round object that you can kick and some surface that is relatively flat and large enough where you could set up goals. That's it. Appropriate surfaces include grass, dirt, concrete, or asphalt, with or without the occasional passing car. You don't need gear, you don't need a specialized ball. Hell, at Fatima College, where I went to high school, we played a kind of small goal called SIDE, where there were these intense three-on-three games where we used a tennis ball to play. Guys who were from one country and played professionally in another. When I was goalie, I played as Claudio Taffarel, who was the Brazilian keeper who played for Palmer in Italy. Quasi was John Barnes. When we were young, uh Siria or the Italian League was king. Between World Cup cycles, we watched players like Toto Schilacci, Franco Baresi, Romario, and Maradona play for different Italian clubs. Nowadays, the Premier League in England is king. But back then, when it was called the Premiership, it was not lauded for its high level of technical play the way it is today. Also, because of its simplicity, football as a sport is possibly the most democratic game on the planet. Most of the best footballers don't come from privilege. Some of them come from abject poverty. Brazil's storied football history is littered with young men and women who play barefoot in the streets with taped up or makeshift balls, shooting at goals held together with ingenuity and love. But make no mistake, there are professional pathways in these countries. Academies that scout, recruit, and nurture talent from an early age. Many are offered professional contracts more to take care of their families and improve their overall situation so the kids can keep playing football. Then they hopefully grow into their careers, leveling up to older teams and possibly better academies, all with the hope of breaking into the first team of whatever club they play for. Then, if you stand out, you may get attention of a team with more money and better overall standing in the football pyramid of that country. And then the very best get offered contracts to go play for teams in other countries, such as South American countries, North America, Asia, etc. But most people want to go to Europe. Now, there's some bias in that because some of the biggest clubs in the world are actually in Brazil and other South American countries. But the most coveted club trophy on the planet right now is the UEFA or European Champions League. So you have all these players from all over the world trading their home country for other countries, learning new languages, living in new cultures, making the world smaller and more interconnected with each match they play. And as fans, we go along for the ride, rooting for them when they come to our team, but also learning about different cultures and countries in the process as we read more about them and watch them interact in their new environment. These men and women are our avatars. They are most physically skilled versions of ourselves that we can live vicariously through. And club teams, especially in the bigger leagues, have representation from all over the world. Each of these teams is like its own united nations of super athletes mixed in with homegrown talent. I think the closest thing you can get to that in a modern American sports outside of the MLS is the NBA, which has taken great strides in the past couple of decades to become a more global game. Most of the players are still American-born, but they do a great job of marketing to international territories by celebrating their non-US players. And they have even adopted some of the hallmarks of international leagues, including shoot sponsors and the ability for teams to win more than one trophy a season by adding the NBA Cup, a mid-season tournament that my beloved Knicks won in addition to the NBA championship. But back to international football and the World Cup in particular. For a football mad planet, this tournament is the pinnacle of spectacle and competition. Anticipation builds in the four years between tournaments, and qualification is a multi-year process as players leave their clubs during international breaks to suit up for their home countries to play within their federations for coveted qualification spots. So guys who were sworn enemies last week in the Premier League would then this week in their home country play side by side against another country that may also have teammates from their respective clubs who are now enemies because of where they were born. So there's always a good storyline, and there's always a ton uh there are always tons of drama and intrigue. And for smaller countries, ones who have vanishingly small chances of winning the thing, or even winning a game, earning a draw against a superpower is like a victory. Scoring a goal is the path to instant immortality for that player. And advancing to the knockout rounds goes into the history books with as much significance as, say, a declaration of independence. And if you think I'm exaggerating, go find somebody and ask, ask them anybody from Cape Verde, who are the smallest nation to ever qualify for a World Cup knockout stage. Um Paraguay just declared a national holiday because they just beat Germany to advance to the round of 16 yesterday. Germany has a population of 87 million people. Cape Verde has a population of 525,000. And they can boast that they at least made it to the same stage as the Germans, who only trailed Brazil in the number of World Cups won. So hold that. Football can be the great equalizer where commoners can be kings and empires can crumble in the span of 90 minutes or 100. 20 minutes. There's a generation of German fans who don't know what success in the World Cup is, even though they have won four trophies. Same for Brazil, who have won five trophies. Same for Italy, who can't even qualify out of Europe for the tournament these days. So anyway, if you're on the fence about the World Cup, give it a shot. Come for the football, but stay for the culture. See the Brazilians dance when they score. Or see how the Japanese coach bows in respect to their opponents and the game after being sent home. You know, see see uh Dutch fans take over the streets of Houston and turn it orange. See the Norwegians rowing in the stadium, trust me, just Google that one. And what of Lowly Trinidad and Tobago, the former British colony of 1.5 million people who lost their shot at World Cup Immortality on that fateful day in 1989. Well, they we got another shot in 2005 after hiring Dutch coach Leo Benhacker. Despite boasting a wealth of talent like an aging but still effective Dwight York and Russell Atopee and Premier League talent like Carlos Edwards, Shaka Hislop, and Kenwyn Jones. The team was middling near the bottom of the final qualification group before the Dutchman got them organized and roaring up the table to a fateful fourth place playoff with Bahrain. Now, it was a home and away leg, so we played the first game in Trinidad and the follow-up game or the second leg in Bahrain. The teams drew in Trinidad and the Soka Warriors, named after our brand of party music, had to go to Bahrain for that decisive second leg match. And just like in 1989, it was a one-goal affair. But this time it was TNT that went into a loud, raucous stadium and came out with a victory that saw us at the time as the smallest nation to ever qualify for the World Cup. A first game draw with Sweden made us the toast of the group stage, and trainees were welcomed with open arms all over Germany, sharing culture, music, food, and lots of alcohol. And that's the beauty of the World Cup. Back home, there was dancing in the streets after the first game, and of course, a public holiday. The now quaint strike squad song was replaced by Maximus Dan's Fighter, which became the Soka Warriors Anthem. And I still get choked up every time I hear him at the beginning of the song say, Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, good afternoon. And we are gathered here today for the game of your life. I know for certain that I won't ever see my sweet TNT win the World Cup. But I can say that we have and may someday again be counted among the world's best, and we could never be written out of the history books. And what of our rivalry with the US? Well, to be fair, it's not much of a rivalry if one side routinely beats up on the other. I mean, in population alone, the US has us beat by about 345 million people. But I can also say that we etched our name in the history books again as the team that knocked the US out of World Cup qualification in 2017, launching inquests into the state of US soccer, older US players questioning the heart of this new generation, and shaking the pillars of heaven one more time, all the way from Couver, Trinidad. So, what comes around goes around, I guess. Thank you for joining us on another episode of Freshwater Yankee. I want to uh give a shout out to another supporter of the podcast, Emily Joe Manchester Sandon. Thank you for your ongoing support. You can support the show financially by clicking the link in the show notes, and you can also help us by sharing the podcast, subscribing, liking, giving us a five-star review on your favorite platform. Thanks again for listening, and uh the Mexico and Ecuador match is about to kick off. So as we say in Trinidad, I go on there. Let us water Yankee was produced by Jesse Stevenson Riley. Our contributing producers are David MacMillan and Lauren Leon McMillan. Music was provided by Peter Sandy of Home Based Productions, and I am your host, Wendell Riley.