I usually go nuts for the World Cup—it’s always been one of those moments that brings out pure excitement in me. But for the first time in my life, I’m finding it hard to feel that same spark, strangely detached from it. The excitement just isn’t there. All the noise and nonsense around it have taken away some of the magic.

Maybe, though, it’s something more personal. The truth is that this is my first World Cup in many years without my sidekick—my husband. There’s no one to share the anticipation with, no one to cheer, scream, laugh, run like a wild goose and live every moment alongside me. For so many years, the World Cup wasn’t just about football—it was about who I experienced it with.

Now, as it approaches— well, it begins today—, I can’t help but feel nostalgic. So many memories come flooding back, and the absence feels louder than the tournament itself. Everything seems a little quieter, a little emptier. The excitement that used to build naturally just isn’t there, and neither is the motivation that came with it.

Still, I’ll try to enjoy it the best way I can—creating my own wild audience of one, loud enough to make any neighbor reach for earplugs or consider moving away. Some things change, and some people leave behind a space that can never truly be filled, but the memories remain.

Maybe it won’t feel the same this time, and maybe that’s okay. Yet I’ll be watching with a heavy heart, missing the voice beside me, the laughter that echoed through every match, and the joy we shared. I’ll miss the awkward but hilarious dances whenever his favorite team scored, or when a player dribbled past defenders, pulled off a brilliant trick, and delivered a perfect pass. Those moments made every World Cup unforgettable—not just because of the game itself, but because of who I shared it with: a fanatic of the game! Tomorrow and the day after, and after, I will beglued to the TV for sure. Let the games begin…