The Summer My Family Fell in Love with the World Cup

Sometimes all it takes is ninety minutes.

A few weeks ago my son Cole and I were in New York City for the screening of This Is Not A Draft at the North Film Festival. The day after the festival happened to be the opening match for the United States in the 2026 FIFA World Cup, and before heading home we wandered into an English football pub tucked beneath the Empire State Building.

I've watched every World Cup since 2006, but I'd never really gotten my family into it.

The pub was packed. Standing room only. Americans, English supporters, tourists from all over the world, and people wearing jerseys from countries that weren't even playing that day — all squeezed together around a handful of television screens. Complete strangers sang together, celebrated together, and lived and died with every attack.

When the United States pulled off an incredible victory, the room erupted. Beer sprayed into the air. People who had never met embraced like lifelong friends.

Walking back through Manhattan afterward, I realized something had changed.

Cole couldn't stop talking about the match. He wanted to know who was playing tomorrow. Then the next day. Then every match after that. The World Cup had gone from something happening in the background to becoming part of our daily routine.

When we got home to Arizona, that excitement spread through the rest of the family.

My wife started picking favorite teams. My niece Avy wanted to know why everyone kept talking about France and Scotland. My in-laws, whose roots are Irish and Swedish, suddenly found themselves cheering, debating, and asking questions about tournament standings. Our family group chat transformed into a running conversation about upsets, penalty kicks, and who still had a chance to advance.

Every few hours someone would inevitably ask, "Wait… what exactly is offside again?"

To this day, I'm convinced nobody actually knows.

The World Cup is one of the few events on earth where billions of people, from every culture and every corner of the globe, are sharing the same experience at the same time. It doesn't matter whether you've followed football your entire life or you're watching your very first match. For ninety minutes, everyone speaks the same language.

That was the moment I realized our family needed something simple to help us follow along. Not another website built for die-hard supporters, but something that made the tournament approachable for everyone gathered around our living room.

So, with a lot of help from AI, I started building a World Cup tracker.

What Vibe-Coding Actually Looks Like

I've been using AI tools throughout my production work for a while now, but this project was the first time I fully embraced what people are calling "vibe-coding." The idea is surprisingly simple: describe what you want, iterate quickly, and let AI handle much of the coding while you focus on the experience you're trying to create.

What surprised me most was how much it reminded me of directing a documentary. I wasn't really writing software. I was directing software.

Every feature started with a conversation. "I want a live scoreboard that automatically updates." "Can someone who's never watched football understand this in five seconds?" "Can we make it obvious who's advancing?" Claude generated the HTML, CSS, and JavaScript. My job was deciding how it should feel to use.

I'd test it during a match, notice where someone in my family became confused, then jump back into another conversation with AI before kickoff the next day.

"The iteration cycle became addictive. Watch a match. Notice confusion. Improve the tracker. Repeat."

The first working prototype — complete with live scores, standings, and responsive layouts — came together in a single afternoon. Had I attempted to build it traditionally, it probably would have taken weeks, assuming I could have built it at all.

By the end of the group stage, what began as a simple scoreboard had evolved into live standings, match schedules, advancement indicators, and built-in explanations for people experiencing their first World Cup. It became its own little passion project. One I'm genuinely proud of.

You can still check it out at worldcup.happyjack.media.

Scotland. Oh, Scotland.

I need to talk about this because it genuinely hurt.

Scotland qualifying for this World Cup was already a miracle worth celebrating. Their first tournament since France 1998. Twenty-eight years of hurt finally ending. I've been a Scotland supporter for years, and wearing the Tartan Army shirt is something I do with genuine pride. My wife has been on this journey with me too — we've carried that flag into this tournament together.

My in-laws are a different story. They're Irish and Swedish by ancestry — Scotland means nothing to them on paper. But that's the funny thing about football. Watching my obsession unfold in real time turned them into curious observers, and somewhere along the way curiosity became genuine investment. You can't really help it. The energy is contagious.

And once a five-year-old starts belting out No Scotland, No Party at full volume, you're all in whether you meant to be or not.

There was real belief that the expanded 48-team format gave Scotland a genuine path through the group stage. All they had to do was avoid finishing bottom.

They did not avoid finishing bottom.

A 3-0 loss to Brazil in their final group match — Vinícius Jr. scoring twice, Matheus Cunha adding a third — was the kind of scoreline that doesn't tell the whole story. But it also kind of does. Scotland fought. They competed. Brazil were simply better.

Even the expanded format, which sent eight third-place teams into the knockout rounds, couldn't save them. Scotland were out. Steve Clarke resigned. And we all sat there refreshing the group table, hoping the math would somehow change.

It did not change.

This is football. This is Scotland. And somehow it still hurts every single time.

The USA: A Host Nation Moment That Wasn't

Look, I wanted the United States to do well. When you're hosting a World Cup for the first time in three decades, with the entire country suddenly paying attention, you want the home side to give people something they'll remember. A magical run. A giant-killing. A moment that convinces an entirely new generation to fall in love with the game.

That opening victory felt like exactly that kind of moment. Suddenly our family wasn't just watching Scotland. We were watching everyone. Every morning started with the same question: "Who's playing today?"

Which made what came next hurt even more. Belgium 4. United States 1. Seattle. Round of 16.

For about ten glorious minutes it felt like maybe this was going to be one of those unforgettable World Cup nights. Malik Tillman's free kick brought the United States level and belief flooded back into living rooms across the country. Then Belgium reminded everyone why they're one of the world's elite sides. Charles De Ketelaere scored. Hans Vanaken added another. Romelu Lukaku finished it in stoppage time. Just to make absolutely sure.

The United States were out. Canada and Mexico had already exited. All three host nations were gone before the quarterfinals. It wasn't a failure — American soccer is unquestionably growing, and this tournament has been an enormous success. But after standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers beneath the Empire State Building for that opening match, I couldn't help wishing the ride had lasted just a little longer.

And Then There Was France

After Scotland's exit and the United States' disappointing finish, our family suddenly found itself looking for a new team to rally behind. That team became France.

Kylian Mbappé has been extraordinary throughout this tournament. Seven goals. A share of the Golden Boot lead. A decisive penalty against Paraguay in the Round of 16. Every match somehow feels like it could produce another highlight that people will still be talking about years from now.

My family keeps asking why I'm cheering so hard for France instead of Messi. The answer is actually pretty simple: watching Mbappé feels like watching the future. Messi has already written one of the greatest careers football has ever seen — nothing will ever change that. But sports are always about passing the torch, and there's something incredibly exciting about watching the next generation step onto the biggest stage in the world. Mbappé plays with a joy that's contagious. Every time he gets on the ball, the whole room leans forward.

Ousmane Dembélé has been incredible too, and this French squad has become one of the most entertaining teams in the tournament. So yes — I'm officially on the France train. Allez les Bleus.

The Family Watching Experience

Some World Cups you watch alone on a laptop. This one became a family event.

Before the tournament even kicked off, my mother-in-law surprised me with the official LEGO football sets. My niece Avy and I spent an afternoon putting them together, and they've been on display in our living room ever since. Looking back, it was the perfect way to kick off a summer that somehow ended up revolving around football.

The tracker quickly became part of our everyday routine. At one point I even mounted an extra television in our living room whose only job was displaying the tracker. It answered the questions before anyone had to ask them. Who's playing today? Who's already through? Who needs a win tonight? Instead of asking "Wait… are they out?" people would simply glance at the screen and immediately understand what was happening. The tracker quietly did its job.

Avy has probably embraced the tournament more than anyone. This spring she played soccer for the very first time on a local community team, and I think once you've actually stepped onto a pitch, the game starts making sense in a completely different way. She's asked tactical questions I'm not entirely qualified to answer, and I've loved every one of them. When a five-year-old starts randomly singing No Scotland, No Party from memory, you know football has officially taken over your house.

The soundtrack of our summer has been exactly what you'd hope for. World Cup playlists on constant rotation — Shakira's Waka Waka (This Time for Africa) and Dare (La La La), K'naan's Wavin' Flag, Nick Morgan's No Scotland No Party (World Cup 2026 Edition). Songs that instantly make it feel like something special is happening, even if you're just sitting in your living room. One of my favorite moments came when my daughter Lilo discovered "Back On Tour" by Farrah Robb because she immediately recognized the influence of "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes. Suddenly another member of the family had her own connection to the tournament. It's funny how those little moments add up.

Over the Fourth of July we took the tournament camping. Our extended Blair family escaped to the mountains for the holiday, but somehow the World Cup came with us. Phones came out to check the tracker. Someone asked what time kickoff was. Before long we were gathered around another screen watching England play Mexico — and naturally, we found ourselves cheering for Mexico. If you've ever spent time around Scotland supporters, you'll understand why "Anyone But England" quickly became the unofficial motto of the afternoon.

Eventually someone will lift the World Cup trophy. The tracker will stop updating. The extra television in our living room will go back to displaying something else. Life will move on.

But I don't think that's what I'll remember.

I'll remember a crowded pub beneath the Empire State Building where complete strangers celebrated together like lifelong friends. I'll remember Cole asking who was playing tomorrow. I'll remember my family learning the game one match at a time. I'll remember Scotland breaking my heart, France giving us someone new to believe in, and hearing a little girl proudly sing No Scotland, No Party from the back seat of the car.

Looking back, I don't think this story was ever really about football. It wasn't about AI, either. The tracker was simply an excuse — an excuse to spend more evenings together, to have one more conversation, to learn something new as a family.

As a filmmaker, I spend a lot of time chasing stories that bring people together. This summer, I didn't have to go looking for one. It was sitting in my own living room.

And honestly, I think that's what I'll remember most.