Really, what’s more exciting than the World Cup? Oh I’ve anticipated your canned answers. Promotions. Weddings. Babies. The Super Bowl.

But does the whole world care about your career? Think about the stress of planning a nuptial, the responsibility of caring for a helpless human. And we all know the Super Bowl is merely a side dish to your gormandizing 18-layer bean dips.

This November and December (really?) the world tuned in to watch the World Cup. That’s right, not just America, but every continent—probably even Antarctica—was watching. Yeah. If I lived in a glacier and waited around all day for a penguin to walk by I’d be sure to find a satellite TV and beam up that footy.

The whole world. People of every tribe and tongue. Even countries that suck at football. (I’m not going to desecrate this post by calling the world’s game “soccer,” because most of the world got it right when they noticed it’s a game where the foot kicks the ball and that’s about it.)

As I was saying, even countries that are crappy at football watch. Including America! Every nation cares, and that’s a beautiful thing.

The problem with exciting things is people can’t help but talk about them and need to share the news as quickly as possible. That’s fine when the game is in the North American Eastern time zone and the big matches are played at prime time.

But when the Cup is 7,000 miles and 8 hours away, the games come on in the morning and middle of the day. That’s just bad for people who before the Cup had things going on, like employment. Because folks like me have to record the games and watch them at night. By then all the beans are spilled like a busted Moe’s burrito. Friends and family have all texted me results and I might as well skip to the goals because that’s the extent of my drama.

To be fair, people weren’t texting me like a sports ticker and saying “Brazil 1 – Germany 0, goal by Neymar in the 80th minute.” That would just be cruel and unnecessary. But I did get results in a matter of words. “Viva la France!” Sounds like they won. Au revoir, drama. “Go USA!” Did they lose? Nope, no lucid chap would say that after a loss. “What a game!” I’d have settled for 90 minutes of crumpling thespians inhaling magic spray. At least then, I still don’t know what happens. No one says “what a game” to 0-0 or 1-0 or 1-1. So as long as that’s the score while I’m watching the replay, I mostly know what happens.

Or perhaps you sought to do me a solid and not reveal anything, with a simple “Did you see the game?” Even then you texted at 4:00 for a 2:00 game, which given the standard two hour matches means there was no extra time, which means I will know the result as the game nears the end of my recording. If I had a VCR I would beat it with a Nike boot. And not really because I’m mad at you but because it seems like the best use of a VCR at this point.

Anyway, I’m kidding about all the lovely souls who shared the World Cup with me over texts. But I’m not kidding about me turning off my phone for the month in the 2026 edition.

Now the World Cup is over just in time for the Christmas season. Many of us can add this time of year to our “excited list.” Just as the Cup is seen by many as worthy of urgent news sharing, we’re quick—and often unconsciously so—to extend a “Merry Christmas” to others. Yet I wonder if it’s lost it’s luster.

After all, this recent Cup feels like the biggest deal in the world to us football fans. Argentina and Messi have achieved their glory (if that was a spoiler then somehow you’ve eclipsed me as slowest recording watcher.) And while it’s top of mind now, what will we say in 4 years? Or 5 World Cups from now? Does anyone fondly reminisce about the 1934 World Cup and Oldrich Nejedly’s goal-scoring prowess?

Likewise, when we speak of Christmas’ origins, can we even remotely relate to the story of an ancient Israeli virgin who had a baby in the presence of shepherds, wisemen, and angels? It can sound and feel like a fairy tale. Perhaps nice to tell as a story, but not more than something for the kids to believe.

It might only be a story worth retelling if its believers made it a story worth reliving. I confess as someone who actually believes this story, my life is too often too pedestrian to remind anyone of the story’s meaning. You may know others like this, “followers” as bland as shepherds’ cloaks and failing to produce the miraculous, or even magnanimous, like their savior.

But maybe there is someone who takes their “Merry Christmas” to heart, who goes forth from the story and loves the poor, sits with the sick, invites in the lonely, and gives generously to the needy, like the stories of their Christ. If you find this person, and they happen to wish you a Merry Christmas, they probably mean it from the deepest part of their being. That to them, there would be no greater joy to have Christmas—”Christ’s Mass”—find its way into someone else’s heart.

What else is there to say, then Merry Christmas!