The intersection of art and the world’s game is bigger than you think

Art is long, life is short

Take art. For time immemorial, our kind has communicated empirical truth through artistic expression, from pen to page, to ochre to cave wall.

A Miamian can appreciate the work of Maria Lassnig despite never having stepped foot in her native Austria. A modern person can appreciate the messages left by ancestors over 100 millennia ago. In that way, art can speak.

Consider athletics: brimming with common humanity that is pan-experiential, sport has played a crucial role in our society for as long as there’s been society; likely longer. On the field, Messi, Neymar, Pogba, Ronaldo and so many others speak with their games, and billions across the globe understand exactly what they’re saying. Likewise, sport itself can speak.

Specifically within the pantheon of sports, soccer occupies a unique place. It is the most popular game globally, it is the easiest sport to spectate, and it contains the fewest class barriers or participatory restraints. Everyone can play. Everyone can watch. Everyone can cheer. It is egalitarian and elegant in its simplicity. It is truly the world’s game. The world roots globally--not necessarily nationally.

None of the four stars mentioned above play the professional game in their home nation. While the Cup may have been begun in 1930 as a celebration of nation states, many of us will be rooting for our heroes with little regard for where they come from. Like our expectations for the best art, we expect our stars to transcend the bounds of language or man-made barriers erected between us.

I can still remember the first time soccer spoke its universal language to me. As a teen growing up in New York during the 1970s, I became obsessed with the NASL’s (North American Soccer League) New York Cosmos, a team that featured all-time great and international superstar Pelé at forward. Seeing the greatest of all time reached me on a sublime level.

I was hooked, and have been ever since. When my career brought me from Los Angeles to Miami, one of the first things I did was seek out venues to indulge my fandom but I stick to the non-contact sport of tennis (I’d love to still be out playing, but at this point I feel a bit more like Pelé at his current age).

The soccer-mad throngs of fans I found here were among the most welcome aspects of my relocation. And while our life experiences are wildly divergent, we share that language. And, nothing better than celebrating the last Euro Championship two years ago at a Midtown brasserie with friends and families.

In Miami, a community where you’re likely to hear multiple tongues during the course of any given day, those common languages are critical. For our city to work, we need that glue, those spaces where we can come together and learn from each and understand.

It bears noting, in the conversations between soccer litterati, the lack of a U.S. Men’s team is not necessarily a huge drain on the draw of this year’s World Cup. Point of fact, their failure to qualify puts them in good company — Italy, the Netherlands and other traditional tough-outs are absent as well. (Besides, all true U.S. soccer fans know the Women’s National Team-FIFA’s current No. 1-ranked squad, is the real Team USA.)

There are not enough spaces like this. Few areas of contemporary life exist where large groups can coalesce and share an experience that speaks to them on this visceral level. It’s why we seek out fandom. In Miami, whenever I wear my Colombia jersey, I know I am inviting myriad conversations and encounters throughout the day. Verbal language is only a small part of that interaction. It’s also partly why we appreciate great works of art. It’s a common desire to be part of something larger.

Certain artists or works symbolize a common language or acknowledgment of a higher plane in human creativity, a place where difference melts away and sameness is acknowledged as the highest form of enlightenment.