You’re reading Fanfare With Will Leitch, a newsletter on the cultural moments capturing America’s attention. Click here to get the full edition in your inbox, including bonus musings on trends and recommendations for the weekend.

Whatever your thoughts about the president of the United States, it’s pretty clear that every time he injected himself into the World Cup, something bad happened. Whether it was the FIFA Peace Prize that kicked the whole thing off, or the shameful way the Iranian team was treated, or the whole Folarin Balogun red-card reversal, or how FIFA head Gianni Infantino had to keep shuffling him out of Spain’s trophy-celebration photos (they ended up cropping him out), every time Donald Trump stepped in at the World Cup, he stepped in it.

And it didn’t make one bit of difference. The tournament brushed Trump off like lint from its shoulder. This was the most successful World Cup in just about every way — financially, athletically, competitively, perhaps most of all sociologically — and it basically turned into a five-week party in America’s streets. The World Cup was pure pleasure, but it was more than that: It restored my faith in people. I’m so sad it’s over.

The thing is, the World Cup — for all its political machinations and grotesqueries, for all of FIFA’s........

© Washington Post