The Diary of Veteran Writer Simon Kuper

VHO - After more than three decades of attending 9 World Cups, Simon Kuper (a veteran reporter for the Financial Times) understands that the attraction of this event is not limited to 90 minutes of competition. For him, the World Cup is about night trains, bars where immigrants meet, lunch in the sun in the South of France or moments of floating on the water in Brasília. Football seems to be just an excuse, what really keeps him going is the world that opens up on each journey.

A trip to Italy in 1990 was the starting point of a lifelong journey of experience for Simon Kuper.

From a surprise trip in my twenties

Kuper’s first World Cup was in 1990, when he was still a student. The opportunity came by chance: a friend knew someone who worked for the tournament’s sponsor who had spare tickets. With just a few words of encouragement, they turned their idea into action, hopping on a bus, driving to Dover and then taking a ferry to Italy. They slept on a crowded train, crossed the border in the middle of the night and were lucky to escape the suspicion of two customs officers…

That trip was just to watch football. But it inadvertently marked the beginning of a lifelong journey of experience, opening Kuper to a sense of freedom, daring, and a strange familiarity with cities he had never visited before.

Four years later, when the 1994 World Cup took place in the United States, Kuper was a reporter for the Financial Times, writing most of his time on finance and currency. But football always seemed to find a way to interfere with his life.

In Boston, where Kuper lives, he went to a bar to watch the game. It was not just a gathering place for American football fans, but also a meeting place for immigrants from every continent. In the cheers, he encountered a feeling no financial book could provide: an instant connection between strangers, a common language that no one needed to translate.

The 1998 French World Cup and the turning point that changed my life

The days of wandering in France helped Kuper realize that he wanted to travel, to write, to immerse himself in the world .

Of all the World Cups Simon Kuper has been through, the 1998 World Cup in France is an unforgettable milestone because it completely changed his life. The image he retains most clearly is not the host country's victory but a sunny lunch in the garden of the Colombe d'Or restaurant in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, with his young colleagues.

The French landscape appears as beautiful as imagined by those who have fallen in love with this country through literature, painting and cinema: golden light, stone walls, green gardens and simple yet sophisticated dishes...

He traveled from Marseille to Lyon, enjoying bouillabaisse or andouillette as a way to “taste” the local culture. The days spent working around the game and the afternoons spent wandering around the city helped him realize the feeling he wanted to live forever: to travel, to write, to be in the world.

Just days after the tournament, he returned to the Financial Times office in London, writing exchange rates in his suit, and found things unusually crowded. So he quit and moved to Paris, where he still lives today. Looking back, he admits that the 1998 World Cup changed not only his career but also his life.

Parallel worlds in the World Cup

The profound world of Japanese indigenous culture is also mentioned in the pages of reporter Kuper.

By the time of the 2002 Japan-Korea World Cup, Kuper had entered a season of breakneck pace. He was constantly on the move, from city to city, to the point that he sometimes got off the train without knowing where he was. During the day, he was diligently on the field, and at night, he rushed to the press center to submit his articles on time.

But he also had time to discover another Japan, when local friends took him to eat in the small streets. Those were subtle moments, helping him understand that every World Cup always has two worlds: a fast-paced world of journalists and a deep world of local culture if you stop and look for it.

Coming to the 2006 World Cup in Germany, where he lived as a young man, Kuper was really surprised when he returned to his old neighborhood in Berlin. Previously, it was a dull, quiet neighborhood, where neighbors rarely exchanged a hello. But during the World Cup, everything changed: flags hung in the windows, children ran around playing in the streets, strangers struck up conversations like old friends.

The festive atmosphere made Kuper look back at the street sign to make sure he was in the same place. And he understood that the World Cup could not only transform a country on television but also revive an ordinary neighborhood.

Brazil 2014: When the World Cup opens up the most beautiful part of the world

Brazil 2014 was the World Cup that made Kuper sob the most.

If there was one World Cup that most touched Kuper, it was Brazil 2014. One afternoon, floating in a swimming pool in Brasília after the Netherlands’ victory over Mexico, he heard birds chirping against the blue sky and saw his friends splashing around. In that moment, he thought: “This is probably the most beautiful World Cup I’ve ever experienced.”

Morning walks on Rio’s beaches, feet in the sand and a coconut drink at a small bar before returning to the frenetic pace of work, all made up the perfect picture of football and life. For him, Brazil was an explosion of emotion, human generosity and tropical beauty that made the World Cup something almost sacred.

South Africa 2010: A non-football memory

The 2010 South Africa World Cup reminded Kuper that travel goes hand in hand with real life.

Of all the memories Kuper has, the 2010 South Africa World Cup is the only one that is emotionally connected to family. It was there that he visited his 92-year-old grandmother, who knew she wouldn’t live much longer. She said that if she were to die during the World Cup, all she would need would be a simple funeral. On the day he was about to board the plane back to Europe (on the day of the final), he teased: “If you’re going, you still have ten hours to make it to the World Cup.” She smiled and told him not to be sad. A few months later, his grandmother passed away.

For Kuper, this is the only World Cup that leaves a deep sadness, but also reminds him that trips, whether related to football or not, always go hand in hand with each person's real life.

Qatar 2022: A miniature world in a train

Doha - the capital of Qatar also left its mark in the diary of veteran writer Kuper.

Coming into the ninth edition (Qatar 2022), Kuper finds today's World Cup very different from the 1990s. But one thing remains the same: the small moments along the way.

In Doha, every metro ride becomes a “provisional country”, where Asians stand next to Africans, European fans sing loudly next to a silent Middle Eastern family. The smell of sweat, loud music at 1am after a defeat, and small talk between strangers all create a vivid picture that no stadium can recreate…

Looking back at nine World Cups across four continents, Kuper realizes that, for him, the World Cup is a special kind of travelogue: not a planned journey but a series of surprises. It gives him a reason to go, to observe, to understand that the world is vast but can be captured in a train or a bar.

And that is why, even though his job has changed and his life has changed, Kuper still believes that every four years, he will pack his backpack and hit the road again. Because for him, the World Cup has always been a way to see the world, and to look back at himself.

Source: https://baovanhoa.vn/the-thao/nhat-ky-cua-cay-but-ky-cuu-simon-kuper-186076.html