It all started with a onesie, as so many parenthood journeys do.
The Ipswich Town Tractor Boys gear traveled across the Atlantic before I snuck it onto my then-infant son, just before my husband arrived home. Adorable photos of the drool-covered shirt followed, sent back across the pond to Ipswich, England, the epicenter of my father-in-law’s family.
It was a reason to connect — one that wouldn’t have happened without our family’s shared love of country and capturing moments that remind us of one another.
The onesie spurred a different reaction when my Belgian grandmother and father saw their pride and joy, the one and only baby wearing the colors of an English football club. “The English?! He should be wearing Red Devil red!” exclaimed my grandmother, with a delivery that bordered on genuine betrayal.
Becoming a parent made me see these interactions between family members as long-lasting connections and pivotal memories, not just silly quips at a sporting event.
Motherhood changed my perspective
By the time of the Women’s World Cup later that summer, a lighthearted rivalry had formed (Belgium didn’t even qualify that year, but that didn’t simmer my family’s bubbling pride). My 4’5″, 80-pound grandmother had outsize opinions about every decision on the pitch.
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Cheering my grandfather on at years of weekend games, she wielded words capable of besting anyone’s strongest kick. Other countless memories help fill the multi-year gaps between tournaments, like my grandmother and father-in-law’s sheepish chuckles and simultaneous “santé!” and “cheers!” as glasses chinked. Or the audible disbelief at a call that was simply unjust to everyone on the pitch. And, all the proud comments about my son’s various traits as evidence of his Belgian or English heritage.
In stark contrast, I can’t tell you a thing about prior World Cups. I likely passively watched, enjoying the game, but not for the reasons that matter now.
Multigenerational moments are fleeting
I became a mom, and suddenly the moments on screen were truly part of the background; I was watching the moments in the room.
Motherhood has made me keenly aware of these fleeting multi-generation interactions and how readily they slip away without intention. My dear grandmother died in 2024. I will miss her elegant outrage at the ref’s calls and the players’ decisions. I know my Dad will represent Belgium in this year’s World Cup, complete with a click of the tongue and an exasperated sigh, unwittingly echoing my grandmother’s to a tee.
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Add in shared culture, country-themed snacks, and friendly competition, and you have cherished memories in the making. I daydream about my rambunctious toddler dashing into the yard to greet his grandfathers, surprising them in his Belgium, England, or even US kit. Jeers will be hurled based on his selection, but so will love and enthusiasm.
The World Cup is a time to connect with our heritage
For my children, this summer is a rare at-home immersion into the cultures that define their grandfathers and of which their great-grandmother was deeply proud.
I imagine US parents living abroad may experience similar feelings on Super Bowl Sunday or during March Madness, but it can’t compete with the World Cup. More than 100 games spread over six-ish weeks extends the tradition, winning it the title of my favorite sporting event — an admittedly unexpected statement for an American (who grew up watching the Super Bowl).
This World Cup will ground my children in family legacy, strengthen connections in the present, and create memories and shared interests for the future.
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Unlike a book or photos, the stadium’s palpable energy, chants and songs, and the homemade family recipes at watch parties make culture easy to grasp — no matter how small the tiny hands. My son will experience why one side of the family wears black, yellow, and red, and the other red and blue, knowing he can feel at home in each.
This will be the first time my son sees Belgium and England play in the World Cup, heightening the rivalry and making the experience more tangible.
The further Belgium, England, the US, (or any other team for which we have a smidgen of affinity) make it, the longer the family connections and memory-making magic — that’s what I’m in it for.
