The middle part of the World Cup was spent in Dallas, in the cowboy belt of North Texas. It is no Wild West of the kind we have grown up watching in American westerns. Historic downtown Dallas and the Design District have seen huge economic investment in recent years, turning old, dilapidated neighbourhoods into relaxed hubs of rooftop restaurants and a few noisy Irish bars.
For a week, the town belonged to Argentinians as the team played back-to-back games against Austria and Jordan. At every bar and every 7-Eleven, you would bump into South Americans. The city, after England fans had run it dry following their team’s group-stage victory over Croatia, had learned from its mistake. Every pub had hundreds of kegs lined up outside, taking over the footpaths much like the street hawkers of Kolkata or Mumbai.
The stay at the Magnolia Hotel, built in 1922 as the Magnolia Petroleum Building, was convenient. This 29-storey Beaux-Arts skyscraper was the tallest building in Texas for decades and is famously capped by the iconic 40-foot neon Pegasus. More importantly, it was a minute’s walk from the AT&T Discovery District’s central plaza and media wall, which became the site of impromptu watch parties for games involving Mexico, Argentina and the United States. Garden chairs and picnic mats took over the square as families made an evening of the games, with margaritas and food flowing as freely as the goals in this World Cup.
But the proximity ensured there would be no early nights, and no sleep at all until 2 a.m., when the square was finally cleared.
The energy and excitement didn’t allow the circadian cycle to adjust to the changing time zones, from India to the East Coast and then Central Time. That’s why making the early-morning trip to Houston for Brazil’s round-of-32 clash with Japan was a nightmare, or a morning mare. The bus to the land of NASA was slated for 6 a.m., and the alarm was duly set for 5 to reach the terminus on time. But sleep came late, and when you woke at 4.30, you felt blessed to have 30 more minutes of rest for the weary body and promptly dozed off. You slept through the alarm. When your eyes opened again, the clock said 6.03, and the buses here, at least in Dallas, run right on time. Frantic calls ensured the ticket was changed to the 7 a.m. service, and you rushed through half the morning chores to get there in the nick of time.
The Japanese, despite taking an early lead, failed to hold on to it and conceded late to hand the tie to the Selecao. The return was more entertaining, if long, as a few old friends and a new one offered a ride back in their car.
Another early-morning flight followed soon after as you headed to Philadelphia, the birthplace of America’s Declaration of Independence, for the Fourth of July and France vs Paraguay.
The city, the prettiest in the US so far, was baking in sweltering heat, but the enthusiasm and pageantry were still going strong. The game in the open stadium, however, was a scrappy affair, with Paraguay more interested in getting under the skin of the Frenchmen than in playing football. The ploy almost worked, and it was only a late penalty from Kylian Mbappe that broke the deadlock.
Rain and thunderstorms followed after the game, and with them went the plan of watching the fireworks. A few more pints of artisanal ale and the famous Philly steak at the cash-only Oscar’s Tavern were the only solace on an otherwise hot and damp celebration of America’s 250th year of independence.
Football central: Fans watch World Cup action at the official Fan Village at Rockefeller Center in Manhattan, with the iconic FIFA World Cup Trophy display at the heart of the venue. | Photo Credit: AP
The tragedy with the buses, however, continued. Early the next morning, the bus to New York, where you were headed for Brazil-Norway, was nowhere in sight at the stop adjacent to Chinatown. A quick check by the conductor revealed that the sleep-deprived mind had booked the bus for July 6 and not 5.
All buses seemed full, and the chances of making the game looked remote. But just then, miraculously, Wanda Bus appeared, with a coach to NYC leaving in 15 minutes and a ticket priced at just 25 dollars.
You reached New York a couple of hours late and made a frantic dash through busy Manhattan with your suitcase to get to the hotel, drop off your luggage and catch the last media shuttle to New Jersey. The Brazilians were knocked out, and the bags were packed for the next destination to discover the fate of the other South American nation.
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Published on Jul 07, 2026