Why I Never Skip the National Anthem

At my age, and having grown up in a Latin American country where fútbol is more than a sport, I have watched hundreds, perhaps thousands, of matches. I have seen Pelé and Bobby Moore. I have watched World Cups come and go. I have witnessed the transformation of the game from grainy black-and-white broadcasts to high-definition spectacles transmitted instantly around the globe. And yet, there is one part of every match I never skip.

Long before the opening whistle, before the first pass is completed or the first shot is taken, I find myself glued to the screen. The players emerge from the tunnel. Children accompany them onto the field. Flags are unfurled. Captains exchange pennants. National anthems are played. For a few brief moments, the game pauses before it has even begun.

It would be easy to dismiss these ceremonies as mere pageantry. After all, they do not change the score. They do not affect tactics or determine who will win. In an age of instant gratification, one could easily change the channel and return when the action starts. But I never do!

As the years pass, I find that these moments move me even more deeply than they once did. Perhaps it is because I have come to understand that rituals matter. As a rabbi and teacher, I have spent much of my life explaining why human beings create rituals. A ritual does not change reality. Rather, it changes our awareness of reality. Lighting Shabbat candles does not alter the calendar. Reciting Kiddush does not make the wine different. Standing for the national anthem before a soccer match does not affect the outcome of the game. What these rituals accomplish is something more important. They tell us: Pay attention. This moment matters.

The modern game has changed dramatically. Every four years new technology appears. Cameras become more sophisticated. Artificial intelligence assists referees. Statistical analysis grows increasingly complex. Broadcasters provide information that previous generations could never have imagined. Yet amid all this technological progress, the most memorable moments remain profoundly human. A player’s tears during the anthem. A child holding the hand of a national hero. The pride reflected in a parent’s face in the stands. The embrace between opponents after the final whistle. The game evolves, but the human heart remains remarkably constant. Perhaps this is why I continue to watch those opening ceremonies so attentively. They remind me that beneath the uniforms, endorsements, statistics, and media coverage stand human beings carrying their hopes, fears, histories, and dreams onto the field.

As an immigrant, these moments resonate with me in another way as well. I have lived in several countries and have pledged allegiance to more than one flag. I have learned multiple languages and inhabited different cultures. As a result, I understand that a national anthem is not merely a political statement. It is a vessel of memory. It carries childhood recollections, family stories, shared struggles, and collective aspirations. When the anthem plays, people are not simply honoring a government. They are honoring a story. Their story. That is why the sight of children escorting players onto the field continues to touch me. It reminds us that every athlete, regardless of fame or accomplishment, was once a child with a dream. Before the trophies and headlines, there was simply a boy or girl kicking a ball in a neighborhood park and imagining what might one day be possible.

As a teacher, I often remind students that technology can improve our lives, but it cannot replace what makes us human. Artificial intelligence may help referees make better decisions. Advanced broadcasts may help us see the game more clearly. But no technology can create courage, loyalty, perseverance, or love of country. Those qualities emerge from the human spirit.

In the final analysis, the enduring power of soccer has little to do with tactics or technology. It lies in its ability to bring people together around shared rituals and shared hopes. It reminds us that even in an increasingly digital world, we still long for belonging, meaning, and connection. So when the next World Cup match begins and the players walk onto the field holding the hand of their children escorts carrying flags, I will once again remain glued to the screen. Not because I am waiting for the game to start. But because, in an important sense, it already has. Go Colombia!