Every four years, the World Cup arrives and does something remarkable to the Australian pub. Men who couldn't name a single player in January are suddenly experts. Blokes who spent the last three years insisting they're more of a rugby guy have mapped every venue screening the Socceroos and have opinions on the offside trap.
The kit drawer has been raided. The replica jerseys are out. Fashion brands are falling over themselves to get a piece of it, tickets are changing hands for obscene money, and even the watches on players' wrists have become a conversation worth having.
As the tournament takes over screens across Australia, a familiar cast of football fans emerges. Here’s everyone you’ll meet during this year’s FIFA World Cup.
The Know-It-All
An insufferable bastard who prides himself on knowing everything there is to know, not just about the Socceroos, but the entire roster of talent on display across the US, Canada, and Mexico.
Calls it "football" with a knowing smirk and confidently rattles off the club form of Australian wunderkind Nestory Irankunda before you even knew what group they were in.
Ask him who he thinks will win it, and he'll start to recite his favourite excerpt from Big Ange’s biography. Couldn't manage two keepy-uppies.
The Patriot
Knows absolutely nothing about the lads in green and gold, but you better believe he’s batting for them down the local. Stands up to sing the national anthem and hits every note with a toothless grin – or tries to, at least.
Couldn't name the starting eleven if his life depended on it. Thinks Australia are a genuine title contender. Has a flag. Calls every player "the boys." Calls every opponent "these blokes." Spends the first half telling you why he’ll never own a BYD. Secretly, you're glad he's there.
The Boozehound
Couldn't tell you the difference between a false nine and a free kick, but if you told him that pubs have a special licence to open early, show live sport, and he can get a pint of VB for the price of a schooner before noon, you'll see the man move heaven and earth to support the lads.
Has already mapped every venue within walking distance of his house that's screening the Socceroos group stage. Will be devastated when Australia goes out in the round of 16, not because of the football, but because it means 6 AM pints are no longer socially acceptable.
The Casual Who Thinks Australia Could Win The Whole Thing
Takes time out of cosplaying as a Swannies supporter to watch the football approximately once every four years. Got very excited watching the 2022 Qatar run at the Cas and has since convinced himself the Socceroos are a genuine dark horse this year.
Much like the average Paddo local, he couldn’t name the goalkeeper – couldn’t name three players in the starting eleven. But he’s absolutely certain, nonetheless, that this is Australia’s year. “That Irankunda kid looks unreal,” he says, with fresh green and gold paint still drying on his face.
The Kit Merchant
Has zero interest in the World Cup but willingly spent $240 on Messi’s Argentina away shirt, which he'll wear exactly twice before thrifting it on Depop.
Owns no fewer than three replica jerseys, including at least one nation he has no cultural connection to whatsoever. Works in marketing or PR and confidently wears his kit for the Monday morning WIP.
Currently eyeing the Nike X Palace collab for a 3x mark-up.
The Dual National
Born in Parramatta, but his dad's from Split and his nonna still calls him by a name nobody at work knows.
Spent the group stage quietly supporting Australia with everyone else until Croatia lost to England, and the Vatreni scarf that's been sitting in his bottom drawer since 2006 has mysteriously reappeared. Still thinks Luka Modric plays for Madrid, and if you pull him up on it, he'll tell you, with complete sincerity, that he's always supported both. Always.
The Gambler
Not really watching the football. Watching his bet. Has a six-leg multi on every group stage match and can tell you the exact combination of results he needs before the 70th minute of the Germany game.
Currently eyeing a $60 punt on how many throw-ins Australia will have against Paraguay. Will be down $800 by the quarterfinals. Blames the referee. Blames VAR. Blames the pitch. Blames Albo. But that’s alright. He’ll somehow win it all back on the pokies anyway.
The Englishman
Has lived in Australia for seven years but becomes acutely, aggressively British the moment a World Cup rolls around. Spent the last four years saying the time difference makes it hard to follow football “back home” and now owns two England shirts and has blu-tacked the schedule to his sharehouse kitchen wall.
Screams “It’s Coming Home” to anyone who'll listen and then spends the next 10 minutes telling you why it’s just classic English humour. Gets louder as the pints stack up. Cries in the penalty shootout. Tells everyone he's fine. Books a flight home when England gets to the knockouts because he “just has to be there.” See you at Beachy, champion.
The Glory Hunter
Claims he has always supported the eventual champions since long before the first ball was kicked. Doubles down on it. Can tell you just enough about the game to convince you he's telling the truth. It's not like you're about to check anyway.
Arrived in Sydney from Adelaide last year, and started the tournament as a Brazil man – he’s always loved the culture, the flair, the football philosophy, once had a kickabout with the locals in Bondi. Pivoted seamlessly to France during the knockouts. You've never seen him upset about a football result. You never will.
The Underdog
Defiantly cheers for the weaker team no matter the match. It's the same part of his brain that had him backing the Wests Tigers through the mid-2010s and rooting against Souths the moment they got money
Will tell you the population of Cabo Verde and Curaçao compared to Spain and the Germans, and how much of an achievement it is that a Caribbean island nation the size of Geelong even made it to the World Cup, let alone take points from the odds-on favourite to win it.
Knows their centre-back's name. Looked him up. Genuinely moved by the whole thing. Claps off the lads at full time. Comes back tomorrow for a different team he'd never heard of a week ago and already considers his own.
