Hey you! No, not the guy behind you. No, not the split personality. YOU. YOU. Why did you watch the do-or-die Egypt-Algeria playoff? Have you ever been to either of those countries? Wow, you know about the Pharaohs and Pyramids of Egypt, but what about Algeria. Yeah, that’s what I thought. And did you even catch the first clash between the two North African giants, the spectacular goal fest, available here in video with the greatest Algerian pop song ever as the soundtrack? No. Didn’t think so.

Perhaps you watched it because FIFA broadcasted it free on the official website. After years of lounging in the rojadircta and veetle shadows, you wanted to come clean. And the price was right. Or perhaps the quality of the football caught your eye. But I don’t think so.

The World Cup fast approaches, a monument to the nation-state and geographic boundaries. Yet as the internet shrinks distances to virtual seconds, and the flow of people and capital makes national sides lobby for signing young talent (Edgar Castillo), how much longer can we hold onto this treasure trove of passion and competition? In the last century, nationalism reared its ugly head in the specter of two World Wars. Yet the digital generation pacifies itself with 11 men kicking around a sphere for 90 minutes. Plus added time.

I get this inkling that you watched the Egypt-Algeria match because another person you know and respected watched it. I get this feeling that you got caught up in the wave of emotions. I get this sensation that you watched the match not as a disinterested neutral, but as a vested spectator. If asked to broker a peace accord post-match, you would be too covered in sweat to sign a paper. And you don’t speak Arabic.

Quality football was at a premium. Egypt possesses the South American circle to spin Pyramids into the pitch, yet opted for overlapping outside backs and crosses to nobody. On the other hand, Algeria struggled to retain possession but looked dangerous on the counter. The Pharaohs hit the crossbar off a header and almost pounced on a missed tackle but for the low lying palms of Algeria’s keeper.

And the Algerian goal was equal parts brilliance and tragedy. Tragedy because Egypt let a looping ball drop in the box. Brilliance because the resulting half volley, from an acute angle that would have made Marco Van Basten think twice before pulling the trigger. But these sporadic moments cannot overcome the 90 minutes of subpar soccer. Or can they?

The World Cup is precisely the time to not ask that question: why. The World Cup is a time for collective waves of emotion, be it suffering or joy. Simply put, the World Cup is a time for human solidarity. You watched Egypt-Algeria because, for those 90 minutes, your nationality held no importance. The outcome mattered to the teams, but not to you. Rather, your allegiances, biases, and prejudices wilted in the wind like a mirage in the desert.

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