Summers of 2026. North America. 48 teams. 104 matches. Millions of spectators on the stadiums and billions in front of screens. The World Cup is not just a tournament. It is a time machine that makes adults become boys again and children believe in miracles. Dreams. Everyone has their own. Some want to see Messi live, others want to play on the field themselves, and the third one just wants to hug his son after the final whistle. The 2026 World Cup is a kaleidoscope of hopes where generations intertwine. Dreams of boys from the 90s who have become fathers The one who is now 35-40 years old remembers football before the era of endless money and VAR. He remembers watching the 1998 World Cup in a Pioneer camp. How he cheered for the Brazil team with Ronaldo. How he cut out photos of Zidane and glued them to notebooks. Now he has his own children, a mortgage, and a job from 9 to 18. But when the World Cup starts, he turns back into that boy in a faded jersey. His dream is simple: to show his son or daughter what he felt himself. To explain what offside is and why a penalty is a lottery. To sit next to him on the couch, pour juice into a cup with the World Cup logo, and watch match after match. And if he's lucky — to go to the tournament. To buy tickets for two matches, even if he has to save for half a year. Because this is not just football. This is the transfer of the baton. For many adults, the 2026 World Cup is their last chance to see the stars of their youth. Does Messi still play? Ronaldo? Or maybe this is their last championship. And this nostalgia makes every kick of the ball an event of a lifetime. Dreams of boys and girls who play ball in the courtyard For a child who is just learning to score, the World Cup is a magical door. He sees on TV how Kylian Mbappé dribbles past three players and thinks: "I can do that too." He sticks stickers with players in his album, asks his parents to buy boots like Vinicius, and draws goals on the asphalt. His dream is simple and naive: to get to the stadium. To see the player lift the cup in person. Or at least score a goal on break, imitating Hollan's celebration. But there are other children. Those who don't watch TV and play themselves. They are registered in a football section, get up at 7 in the morning for training, their knees are bruised, and their backpacks are dirty with the uniform. For them, the World Cup is not entertainment, but a lesson. They watch how professionals move, how they open up, how they shoot. And they dream of one day stepping onto the same stadium. Not as a spectator. As a player. And though they are now 10 years old and the World Cup is still 10 years away — it doesn't matter. The dream lives. Dreams of those who have never been to a stadium For millions of people in third-world countries, in small cities and villages, football is the only window to the big world. They don't have money for tickets, no chance to leave their village. But there is a black-and-white TV that catches the signal once every four years. They sit all the street at the only store with a generator and watch matches, holding their breath. Their dream is for their team to just qualify for the World Cup. Not to win, but to play. Because that would mean: their country has been noticed. Their children will see their flag on the stands. In 2026, Uzbekistan, Cape Verde, Curaçao, and Jordan will play for the first time. For these countries, qualifying for the World Cup is already a victory. Both adults and children in these countries will cry with joy when their team steps onto the field. Even if they lose 0:5. Because the dream has come true. Dreams of fathers and children who support different teams The father supports Argentina because he saw Maradona in 1986. The son supports France because Mbappé is a god. This is a classic. And there is no tragedy in this. On the contrary, there is life. They sit in front of the TV, drink soda, argue, tease each other. If Argentina wins, the father teases the son, if France wins — the son celebrates. And then they wash the dishes together and discuss the best goal of the round. The World Cup brings them together, even when they support different teams. And sometimes it's different. The father left the family, and the son stayed with his mother. Football is the only thread that connects the boy with his father. They call each other after every match, talk about football, not about the fact that the father has not paid alimony again. And for these 90 minutes of the match, they are together again. The World Cup reconciles. The World Cup heals. Dreams of those who build stadiums and sell popcorn The World Cup is not just players and fans. There are builders who built stadiums in New York, Los Angeles, and Mexico City. They worked 12 hours a day to make the concrete not crack and the grass perfect. Their dream is to show their children: "This stadium was built by your dad." And when the child sees the beautiful arenas on TV, he can say at school: "My dad worked there." Pride that cannot be bought. Dreams of popcorn sellers, ticket sellers, volunteers. They will work during matches, won't see a single goal in person, because they need to check tickets and carry hot dogs. But they will be part of the celebration. And their children will wait for them after their shift to hug and ask: "Did Cristiano really smile?". And for this it's worth working. Dreams of those who cannot walk In every country, there are people with disabilities. For them, going to the stadium is a feat. But the organizers of the 2026 World Cup promise an accessible environment: ramps, special seats, sign language interpretation. For some, this is a chance to be on the football for the first time in their lives. To hear the roar of the crowd, to feel the vibration from the kick of the ball. Their dream is to be like everyone else. And the World Cup gives them this opportunity. And there are children who are confined to bed. They watch football on TV, lying in the ward. Players send them videos with wishes for a quick recovery, sign footballs and send them by mail. The dream of such a child is to live to the final, to see the cup being lifted, and to make a wish. To get better. Dreams of players who were children four years ago For a footballer in 2026, the last World Cup in Qatar was the first sign. Some sat on the bench, while others watched on TV, still studying in the academy. Now they are stepping onto the field. Their dream is to score a goal and dedicate it to their mother, who took them to training at 6 in the morning. Or to their father, who sold his car to buy boots. Every goal at the World Cup is a fulfilled dream not only for the player but for his entire family. And there is also a childhood dream: to win the World Cup. They have been living with this dream since they were five years old, when their father put a plastic cup on the refrigerator and said: "When you grow up, bring me one like this." To lift the golden Nike above their head is to close the gestalt of their entire life. Dreams of fans who travel across three oceans To buy a ticket, take a loan, fly to another continent, live in a hostel, eat sandwiches — and all this for the sake of shouting three times for their team. For a fan, this is normal. His dream is not just to see a match but to become a part of it. To get into the frame, wave a huge flag, hug an Argentine you don't know after your team wins in a penalty shootout. And the children of such fans grow up with suitcases at the door. For them, the World Cup is a family tradition. To go as a family, watch, cheer, sing. Then show the photos in front of the stadium to their grandchildren. A simple dream, but invaluable. Dreams of those who stay home Not everyone has money for tickets and visas. But this doesn't mean their dreams don't come true. You can set up a fan zone on the couch at home, invite friends, buy a lot of chips and lemonade. You can draw posters and hang them on the wall. You can write a post on social media and collect hundreds of likes. The dream of a home fan is for his team to win. For the neighbor above not to tap on the radiator when you shout "GOOOAL!". For the son to remember this championship for the rest of his life. And this comes true, even if you're not at the stadium. The common dream: a world without war during the tournament Conflicts quiet down during the days of the World Cup. Not everywhere, but in many places. Adults and children from warring countries can hug each other after a match. Because football unites more than politics. The common dream of all people on the planet is for the World Cup to be a celebration, not a cause for scandals. For no child to be afraid to go to the stadium. For every player, regardless of skin color, to be able to dance after a goal. This dream seems naive. But without it, the World Cup would just be a tournament. The 2026 World Cup is not about who scores more goals. It's about how adults and children dream together. Sitting next to each other on the couch or standing on different stands. Dreaming, believing, hoping. And when the captain raises the cup in the final, millions of people around the world will cry with joy. And this joy has no age.
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