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The ERB is reading the 2026 World Cup and offering daily dispatches, in collaboration with Hazar Deniz Eker and Sander Pleij (one is losing his belief in football, and the other is mesmerized by it; it’s up to you, dear reader, to guess which is which), and others.
UPDATES:
Day 2 | 12 Jun 14:42 CEST
Hazar Deniz Eker
« The sin of not liking soccer »
You might not care about football. You might even despise everything about it. But few, if any, hate it as much as South Korean director Park Chan-wook.
In his essay « The sin of not liking soccer », which was recently translated into English for the first time, Park describes the agony he felt during the 2002 World Cup, hosted in Japan and his home country of South Korea.
Park’s aversion to football even brought him closer to God. He writes:
On one decisive Sunday, I went to church for the first time in twenty years.
A priest asked me, “What troubles you, my child? »
« So, I… Well… No, I can’t! »
« Our Lord is more generous than you can ever imagine. So, please, go on. What sin have you committed? »
« I… I don’t like soccer. »
Contrary to even the most optimistic expectations, South Korea finished fourth, beating football powerhouses along the way. With each minute, each goal, and each victory, Park fell into deeper despair, likening his predicament to that of a chinilpa – Korean collaborators with the Japanese, who remain in hiding in Korea after the Japanese Empire fell.
« Did the collaborationists live under this much fear? One night, I had a nightmare in which I screamed ‘I can’t stand the World Cup’ at the top of my lungs and subsequently got my mouth disfigured. »
Just one year later, Park would direct his magnum opus Oldboy (2003), a film about a man falling into despair as he is trapped, alone and isolated, in circumstances he cannot comprehend. His resolution? Resorting to a violent rampage.
« An average person cannot fathom the depth of paranoia faced by this national traitor living in hiding. »
We would like to extend our deepest sympathies to Park Chan-wook after South Korea came back to beat the Czech Republic in their opening game of the World Cup this morning.
Day 1 | 11 Jun 17:00 CEST
Hazar Deniz Eker
There are few things that appear as irrational as the collective frenzy that 22 men kicking a ball around can cause on a global scale.
Unfortunately, football remains not just a semi-religious experience, but one of the few global commodities that doesn’t even need to craft its own justification. In fact, it tries really hard to make itself as unattractive as possible: the soaring ticket prices, the blatant propaganda for a self-obsessed American president, the climate impact, the discrimination against fans, players, staff and officials, the long-standing corruption in the governing body FIFA, among many, many examples.
And yet, almost like clockwork, a collective suspension of disbelief kicks in as a good chunk of humanity makes personal and national aspirations contingent on whether the ball ends up in the big rectangle glued to their screens, whether kick-off falls at nine in the evening or at three in the morning.
Over the next 39 days, we’ll keep a diary of the 2026 World Cup, the biggest edition yet, held across the vastly different political and social landscapes of Mexico, the United States and Canada. We’ll look at the philosophies, literature and art behind the sport and its players, all while keeping an eye on the controversies along the way.
