The first thing you heard in South Africa during the 2010 World Cup was the noise.
Not crowd noise exactly, but something louder, stranger, more joyful. The relentless – and very loud! – buzz of vuvuzelas echoing through streets, bars, the airports at arrival gates, shopping centers, and the overflowing stadiums from Johannesburg to Cape Town.
Shakira’s Waka Waka blasted from car radios and outdoor speakers. People danced in parking lots before matches. Complete strangers wrapped in different flags sang together late into the night, pouring out into streets after matches.
For one unforgettable month, South Africa moved to a single rhythm.
I was serving as an American diplomat at the U.S. Embassy in South Africa during the 2010 FIFA World Cup, and what I remember wasn’t the soccer – it was the feeling.
The sense of possibility. The genuine warmth of the South Africans. The joy. The overwhelming national pride of a country welcoming the world … and exceeding every expectation.
With the 2026 FIFA World Cup one week in, I think about that summer and what the World Cup meant to South Africa beyond the final score, and what it means to us, as Americans.
Before the tournament began in South Africa, many outsiders and South Africans focused on what could go wrong. There were questions about security, infrastructure, readiness. But once the matches started, those narratives dissolved beneath the energy and warmth of the country itself. Millions of visitors encountered South Africa not through headlines or assumptions, but through its people. Through joy, music, and hospitality, through instant friends met during the matches in fan zones and crowded cafes.
Through the universal language of sports. And this is what sport does at its best.
As Americans, we know that sports create connection. They lower barriers. They foster moments of shared emotion among people who otherwise may have little in common. For 90 minutes, nationality, politics, language, and background matter a little less than the collective joy and anticipation of what might happen next.
Sports diplomacy can sound abstract until you see it up close.
During the World Cup in South Africa, diplomacy happened far from embassy conference rooms or official meetings. It happened in the stands, where strangers exchanged flags and stories, swapped vuvuzelas and danced with each other on street corners. It happened because the tournament created openness and goodwill that no formal initiative could manufacture on its own
The United States now has a similar opportunity.
Over the next several weeks, millions of people from around the world will experience America firsthand. They will encounter our cities, communities, music, food, and traditions. They will see immigrant neighborhoods celebrating teams from every continent while proudly hosting visitors from around world here at home. Our guests will meet us in all our complicated and beautiful diversity – American sports fans who are also cab drivers, restaurant workers, police officers, hotel staff.
And just as importantly, Americans will experience each other.
At a moment when national life can feel fragmented and many of us are politically exhausted, global events create rare opportunities for collective joy. Events like the World Cup remind us there are still shining moments capable of bringing us together across geography, ideology, race, age, and belief.
Sports alone cannot solve polarization or erase division, but can create moments where people stand together instead of apart. They can foster civic pride without exclusion. They can remind countries what confidence and openness look like.
In 2010, I saw that in South Africa. There was an unmistakable pride during that World Cup. South Africans understood they were not simply hosting a tournament but were telling a story about themselves to the world.
The United States has its own story to tell in 2026. We can tell a story about diversity, innovation, openness, and the enduring ability of people from every background to rally around the idea that is America.
The World Cup arrives at a moment when some around the world see the United States through a certain lens – but major sporting events have a way of cutting through caricature. Events like the World Cup reveal the fabric of a country, not simply its debates or its extremes. And much like I do from my time in South Africa, visitors will remember the atmosphere as much as the matches themselves. The streets packed with fans, the spontaneous celebrations, the music spilling from bars and public squares.
The feeling of being part of something global and hopeful.
I still remember watching South Africans during the 2010 tournament, faces painted in national colors, dancing and singing as though the entire country had discovered a renewed sense of joy. Hosting the world changed not only how many people saw South Africa, but also how South Africans saw themselves.
That is the power of sports. They can expand horizons, strengthen national confidence, create relationships and ties that outlast any single match.
And sometimes sports can remind us, too, that joy itself is a form of unity.
I suspect that years from now, many people will not remember every score from the 2026 World Cup; I certainly don’t remember the scores from South Africa. But they will remember how it felt to be here in America, and how our country welcomed them. The energy, the music, the electricity of the matches against America’s dynamic cities. The sense that, for a few weeks, the world gathered together with joy in one place.
And somewhere in the background, if we are lucky, there may even be the sound of a few vuvuzelas.
