Last month, the world descended on America. And they liked what they saw.
By now, we’ve all seen the videos: Egypt fans in Cleveland; Algeria fans in Kansas; Japan fans in Texas; and here in Boston, a Scottish Tartan Army that brought a giddiness to the city not seen since one particular cop skidded awkwardly down one particular slide.
These international visitors loved our Big Gulps, our tater tots, our seafood boils, and our ranch dressing. They loved our wide roads and picket fences. Weirdly, they also loved our big rigs and school buses. Most of all, though, they loved us. This surprised them quite a lot.
Sadly, it surprised us, too.
In interview after afterview, the World Cup fans told us they were initially wary to visit these Un-United States. They expected, perhaps, to finds streets filled with pitchfork-wielding, spittle-spewing, red-faced, red-hatted, foreigner-hating, humorless, spiritless Americans. And lava. And maybe a swarm or two of killer bees.
Hmmm… Whatever could have given them that idea?
“All we see is your politics,” I watched one fan say incredulously in an Instagram video. “We don’t see the rest.”
“Politics” is one word for it.
All this miscommunication is a particular area of fascination for me, probably because I was a Communication major in college. (I’ll pause here for the requisite snickering…) No, we did not learn “how to talk” or “how to read.” Instead, we learned “how to be cynical.” Still, I managed to remain just wide-eyed and idealistic enough to pursue a graduate degree in journalism. Newspaper journalism, in particular (because as everyone knows, that was the hot-ticket career path of the dawning internet age). J-School was where I learned about “Man Bites Dog,” a maxim usually attributed to 19th-century American newspaperman John B. Bogart. “When a dog bites a man, that is not news, because it happens so often,” Bogart said. “But if a man bites a dog, that is news.”
In other words, sex sells. Tragedy sells. Outrage sells. Normal, well-adjusted people doing normal, well-adjusted things do not. The goal, then, is to pack the pages (or screens, or feeds) with as many as many biting humans as possible—truth be damned.
I harrumphed at all that. The rest of the newshounds could do what they wanted, but I was going to be an environmental reporter and save the planet, dammit! And for a while, I tried to do exactly that, investigating and writing stories about corporate toxic-waste dumping, the deadly effects of road salt on fish eggs, and even illegal agricultural ditch dredging. (Yep, that’s a thing.)
Mostly, though, I had to do what all newbie reporters do: I covered car accidents. School-board meetings. Bowling alley refurbishments. Frequently, I was sent out to get “reactions” from the public about some local issue or another. This involved approaching strangers, asking a question like, “So, what do you think about all that ditch dredging?” and writing down the responses. Then, those quotes would be used to craft a story that would run in the next day’s paper.
Sounds simple, right? But when I turned in my story, the editor invariably flagged it. “All these people said the same thing,” he’d complain.
“Yes,” I would nod. “Because they all held the same opinion about the ditch dredging.”
“Go back out,” he would say, annoyed. “Find someone who disagrees. We have to show both sides.”
And just like that, I was spending an entire afternoon trying to find someone, anyone, who held a differing opinion. Once I finally did, I trudged back to the newsroom and wrote up a story that included one quote from someone who was pro-dredging, and one quote from someone who was anti-dredging. Anyone reading the story would probably, naturally, think, “Huh. This dredging thing is a pretty divisive issue here in Everytown, USA.”
In fact, though, it wasn’t. Not even close. A quick peek of my notebook would have revealed 30 mostly identical viewpoints, and just one that differed. But, alas, we had to “show both sides” of the issue. We had to “be impartial.” That was supposedly the idea, anyway. I don’t think my editor was purposefully setting out to mislead the public. But he did know that he needed to sell more newspapers if he wanted to sell more ads. And a juicy story attracts more eyeballs than one in which everyone agrees.
Thus, a false dichotomy is born. Enemies are made. Lies are perpetuated. Small things turn into big things, which turn into MAGA-level monstrosities. For all I know, the residents of that small city are still arguing about dredging today. And if I’m honest, I do feel responsible. And guilty as hell.
So much for saving the world.
On and on it goes. Now, men are biting dogs all over this great land of ours. It’s an epidemic of human-on-canine chomping. Or so we’ve been led to believe.
Until one warm, sunny spring, when a bunch of international visitors arrived, looked around, and rubbed their eyes in astonishment. Where is all the biting? they wondered. All they saw, instead, was a welcoming, slightly startled nation that was thrilled to have some company. Friendly dogs, friendly people. No teeth marks anywhere.
We’re as confused as you are, I wanted to tell them. But I never got the chance…until now.
So, here goes:
Dear World Cup Fans: We celebrated kind of a big birthday this year. Thank you for making it a party to remember—and for reminding us of all the wonders that surround us from sea to shining sea. Beautiful landscapes, clean streets, and Texas barbecue, yes… but mostly, each other. For 250 years, we have navigated our differences with an ethos of optimism and attempted equality that’s rarely perfect, but always tenacious. Thank you for being patient with this young puppy of a country, and for seeing all the good that sometimes hides behind the bad. Turns out, the American spirit is as alive, as exuberant, and as warmhearted now as it ever was. We just needed a little help to find it.
Love, your new besties: the Blue and Red and Purple (and Orange and Gray and Fuchsia) States of America
P.S. None of us support the illegal ditch dredging. Well, almost none of us.
P.P.S. If you’re in the New England area, I hope you’ll consider joining me at one of the book-launch events for Murder Like Magic, which releases on August 25! Here’s the schedule so far… It’s helpful for the bookstores if they know how many people to expect (and how many books to have on hand), so if you’d like to come to one of the events, please consider preordering from the bookstore and/or letting them know you’ll be there. (RSVP required for the Pages & Paws event; see pagesandpawsbookshop.com.) Thank you! :-)
Trisha Blanchet is the author of Murder Like Magic (coming August 25, 2026, from Crooked Lane), The Neath Trilogy (Herrick’s End, Herrick’s Lie, and Herrick’s Key), The Cow Crashed into the Moon, and more. She’s also the producer and host of A Mighty Blaze Podcast, a member of the Tall Poppy Writers and Sisters in Crime, and the founder of Operation Delta Dog: Service Dogs for Veterans (OperationDeltaDog.org).
Murder Like Magic < Preorder here!
The Neath Trilogy (Herrick’s End, Herrick’s Lie, and Herrick’s Key) < Get your copies here!
Operation Delta Dog: Service Dogs for Veterans < Learn more here!
A Mighty Blaze Podcast < Great author interviews here!
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