Fuck Soccer

CULTURE

Do not bother yourself with lesser things

By Gabriel Mann · July 18, 2026 · 5 min read

Now that the World Cup is over, we can admit that soccer is an affront to God. In the grand tournament of evolution, no singular adaptation has proven as revolutionary as our opposable thumb. While lesser mammals fumble through God’s kingdom with paws and hooves, man’s opposable thumb unlocked a dexterity that transformed mere survival into unadulterated dominion over Earth. In the absence of thick skin, insulating fur, devastating claws, agility, and dominating physical prowess, this singular anatomical flourish enabled man to wield not just weapons and instruments and tools, but destiny itself, forging a chasm between us and the rest of the physically superior animal kingdom. Soccer is man reduced to animal.

Forget about survival. Think of the culture! Imagine a world absent the brilliant dexterity of the human hand. Think of the Kubrickian leap of early man grasping his first weapon…to the direct line into the cosmos. Who would want to live in a human civilization without the indelible handiwork of all the Italian sculptors, French painters, German pianists, and Brooklyn mohels? The lush garden of human greatness was cultivated with the evolutionary advantage of our digital prowess. To progress, to succeed, to be human at all…is to be handy.

So what kind of backwards-ass sport doesn’t let you use your fucking hands? Every great sportsman, whether it’s Zelezny launching a javelin, Kobe kissing a reverse layup off the glass, Bill Dance reeling in a lunker, or PDW Weber curling a 7-10 split…in elevated athletics, the marvel of the human hand is on full display. Our national pastime is nothing but a prolonged, masturbatory showcase of digital precision, where cerebral men with dubious athleticism but unfathomable dexterity manipulate the baseball to bend, rise, sink, wobble, and seemingly defy physics entirely. That is sport.

“But soccer is the most popular sport in the world!” Spare me. Soccer is globally popular because soccer is a peasant sport, and a majority of the world is peasants. It’s what third-worlders do out of necessity because they can’t summon the resources to erect a basketball hoop nor clear-cut and irrigate enough Zoysia for a single fairway. Mass global adoption of an activity does not magically imbue it with some mystical gravitas; a majority of the world still wipes their ass with their hand! Ironically, displaying more reverence for manual dexterity when taking a shit than playing sports.

Soccer belies the brilliance of human achievement. It is a reptilian-brain activity, the reflexive gesture of an animistic culture when a shaman performing some human sacrifice tosses a severed head down the temple steps for the proles to kick around. Men of God play baseball. When there is a low score in soccer, it is the result of prolonged, insufferable failure. When there is a low score in baseball, it is the result of miraculous achievement, a masterclass from a professorial pitcher. When nobody hits the ball, you are witnessing history. In soccer, when nobody scores, you are just…witnessing…soccer.

Men’s soccer is particularly unwatchable and abhorrent. In more Godly sports, like basketball, flopping is confined to a select few pariahs with dubious hairlines. In soccer, every player is a theater kid, tumbling and flailing after phantom kicks, rolling on the ground like toddlers in feigned agony, nebulously clutching various parts of their leg during their shameless performance, evidently forgetting which part they’re pretending they injured after their opponent whooshed past them without a glance.

“Was it my ankle? My shin? Maybe it was my knee? I will just keep screaming in horror like a mortar round just severed my femur on Omaha Beach.” Sure enough, after the trainers scurry onto the field to spray the wound with canned air from Office Depot, the moment the yellow card is pulled, he is miraculously healed and sprinting downfield as if nothing ever happened. If football is peak masculinity, soccer is peak emasculation; it’s no wonder the Europoors love it so much.

Predictably, for the next few nebulous weeks of Third World Cup tournament play, many Americans will feel obligated to pretend as though they care about this uninteresting sport. Undoubtedly, with the mass importation of third-worlders and rapid dilution of American culture, you may feel increasingly ostracized if you were to rightly ignore this fake sport. I am here to give you permission to not care. Do not bother yourself with lesser things and lesser cultures. You are an American. You live in God’s chosen lands, built with God’s chosen hands.

Thou shalt not indulge unwatchable, anti-human sports. Even our most barbaric combat sports celebrate the mastery of the human hand. It is summer in America; thou shalt watch baseball. Thou shalt use thy God-given hands to grill hot dogs, crack open a cold one, and blow off your magical digits with quasi-legal fireworks on the Fourth of July. Then—and only then—may you indulge a sport that penalizes you for the use of your divine hands. Soccer is an affront to God.