Are we over the moon about FIFA coming to Toronto?

The question has been on my mind for a few days now, ever since I picked up a TTC service notice at Union Station. It was an ordinary brochure filled with maps, route changes, temporary stop closures, and transit adjustments planned for the World Cup. Most people probably glanced at it and continued on their way.

I took it home.

Perhaps that was my first mistake.

My second mistake was looking at the moon.

But before I explain that, I should confess.

I have not watched football in years.

The reason is Sir Alex Ferguson.

I realize that sounds absurd. Even writing it down feels slightly embarrassing. Yet when Ferguson retired, I reacted with the kind of dramatic loyalty that only a young football fan can fully understand. Back then, Manchester United was more than a club to me, and Ferguson was more than a manager. He felt permanent, like a landmark or a law of nature.

So when he left football, I left too.

At least that was the plan.

I made a vow never to watch football again.

It was probably the most unnecessary promise I have ever made. Yet somehow it became one of the few promises I actually managed to keep. Diets failed. Exercise plans failed. New Year's resolutions disappeared almost immediately. The football oath survived.

For years.

Then life decided to play a joke on me.

After spending more than a decade avoiding football, I now find myself living in a city that is preparing to host the biggest football tournament on Earth.

Toronto.

Of all places.

Millions of football fans around the world would love to experience a World Cup in a host city. Meanwhile, I spent years pretending football no longer existed, only to discover that football had quietly moved into my neighbourhood.

The evidence is already appearing.

The TTC brochures I picked up at Union Station describe route changes around Harbourfront and Exhibition Place. Stops will temporarily disappear. Streetcars will be redirected. Familiar routes will become unfamiliar.

The World Cup has not even started, and it is already rearranging parts of the city.

That is what fascinates me.

Major events never arrive alone.

They arrive with construction projects, transit plans, volunteers, security measures, temporary inconveniences, and thousands of invisible decisions that quietly reshape daily life. Most people will watch the matches. I find myself staring at the layers underneath them.

Perhaps that is why I cannot answer the question in the title with a simple yes.

Are we over the moon?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

What I know is that for the past three nights, the moon itself seems to be!

Every evening, it rises above Lake Ontario and spreads its silver tablecloth across the water. From my balcony, it hangs there, round and luminous, looking suspiciously like a football.

Or perhaps a giant silver World Cup trophy suspended in the sky.

And every night it seems to ask the same question.

How much longer are you going to keep that promise?

Come on.

It has been long enough.

Watch football again.

I am beginning to suspect the moon has joined FIFA's marketing team!

The problem is that reality always enters the conversation.

I checked ticket prices.

That was unfortunate.

For years, I had no interest in attending a football match. Now that I am finally tempted, I discover that the cost of temptation has risen considerably.

There is something wonderfully ironic about that.

The universe spent years trying to convince me to return to football, only to place the stadium slightly beyond my financial reach.

Still, I am not complaining.

At least I am trying not to.

The older I get, the more I appreciate the Stoic philosophy that some things are within our control, and some are not. Ticket prices belong firmly in the second category.

So I will adapt.

If I cannot experience the World Cup from inside the stadium, I will find another way.

A crowded pub.

A patio.

A public screening.

A giant outdoor screen somewhere downtown.

After all, football has never belonged exclusively to stadiums.

And perhaps that is the real story.

The World Cup is ultimately about people gathering together.

Toronto understands that better than most cities.

Long before FIFA arrived, the world had already arrived here. People from every continent, language, religion, and culture have built lives in this city. Diversity is not a slogan in Toronto; it is part of everyday life.

That is why FIFA coming here feels meaningful.

For a few weeks, the world will gather in a city that has spent decades learning how to welcome it.

And somewhere in the middle of all that excitement, beneath a football-shaped moon hanging over Lake Ontario, a stubborn old promise may finally come to an end.

Whether I watch from a stadium seat, a crowded pub, or a waterfront patio hardly matters anymore.

The important thing is that, after all these years, I finally want to watch.

And if the moon keeps appearing every night like a giant football in the sky, I suspect it will eventually get its way.

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