It’s Finally Freakin’ Over!

Right?
We lurched unsteadily through yesterday’s coverage of what was, arguably, one of the largest shared human events in history. They say a billion of us watched—a thousand million people around the globe taking part in the same emotional, bewildering spectacle.

Madonna, Shakira, Justin Bieber and BTS represented the cultural diversity celebrated throughout the FIFA World Cup, which began on June 11 and culminated in its 104th and final match on July 19, when defending champion Argentina faced Spain for the championship.

In and of itself, that is a pretty big deal.

But we took a quick poll outside the Galley here at Socotra House and discovered we still are not completely sure what happened. Some members of the staff spent more than a decade playing along the interior lines of sports that required padded protection, so getting knocked around regularly is no novelty.

But this Greatest Shared Sporting Event in the Human Experience introduced some interesting international elements.

Time kept being added. It was a little like a Super Bowl in which extra quarters could be inserted while the game was already underway, with the clock counting up instead of down and additional minutes appearing whenever the officials considered them necessary.

That was confusing enough.

After nearly two hours of nil-nil football, another thirty minutes were added. Then some other issues—well beyond our understanding of vigorous contact sports—broke out. In the end, Spain finally scored a goal, and the whole thing was suddenly over.

Over for four years, that is.

The confusion over clocks and championships threw dinner into an uproar. I finally decided to simply watch the match and instructed a Millennial I trust to duck over to the Lidl mega-grocery on Leesburg Pike and pick up enough of the sale salmon-cake and crab-cake five-packs to feed a crowd of about twenty distributed among the Conference Room, the Galley and the Patio.

Here was the alternative to having me hunched over the Russell Stovetop outside:

Those were the ingredients.

Directions?

Tell Holly to keep enough batches cycling through the oven, melting slices of cheddar over the patties before serving them on fluffy brioche rolls with tartar sauce, a dozen 12-ounce cans of Cowboy Beans, three tubs of Lidl Peak Harvest Coleslaw and three more of their dynamite Broccoli Coleslaw—the one I didn’t have time to make myself.

‘Scuze me this morning. I am going to attempt to get organized.

Things are busy.

After all, there is going to be another World Cup in only four years!

That was a pretty wide swing around the FIFA World Cup 2026.

My original plan had been to pretend I was making elegant salmon cakes on fluffy brioche rolls with homemade hollandaise, bright garnishes, hearty Cowboy Beans and my famous Deirdre Cole Slaw. Then we’d quietly air-fry everything down in the café so the Galley upstairs didn’t get completely trashed.

But I won’t lie to you.

I’ve been putting nutritious food in front of people who have been simulating constructive work for nearly three months. We’ve all become a little stressed pretending I can produce a full restaurant kitchen every single day. By now, something hot that fits on a brioche roll seems to satisfy everyone just fine.

The truth is, nobody complained.

The fish cakes disappeared. The Cowboy Beans vanished. The slaw bowls came back nearly empty. Even the Interns looked pleased with themselves.

That counts as a successful championship dinner in my book.

Spain eventually got its goal, and we think the World Cup is finally over.

Until 2030.