The World Cup vs the Big Bang theory

A second-century amphitheatre in Jordan. The flight deck of an aircraft carrier in the US. Shibuya crossing in Japan. If the past few weeks show us anything, it’s that you can watch the World Cup anywhere.

It’s with this in mind that I stand in the American Museum of Natural History, my view of the screen obstructed by a meteorite. Should I play table football or find a 120ft long dinosaur? Should I watch France shellac Norway or learn about the neanderthals? At this museum, which spans four large city blocks and 21 interconnected buildings, you don’t have to choose.

The American Museum of Natural History is one of hundreds of venues in New York City to have given itself over to the World Cup. It is putting on viewing parties throughout the tournament, as well as special exhibitions, and briefly had the tournament trophy on display. You might expect that the museum’s tens of millions of objects, some of which pre-date the solar system, might put the game into some perspective.

By the time I arrive at the museum on Friday afternoon, I am prepared for an interesting crowd. I’ve already seen Mohamed Salah waiting on a subway platform, Jude Bellingham having a lunchtime pint, and Cristiano Ronaldo struggling with an electric bike. The city is awash with football shirts, so why should the museum be any different? I begin in Cullman Hall of the Universe, where Senegal are playing Iraq. People float around, occasionally looking at the screen. Only the odd devotee is actually paying attention. I begin to doubt my priors. It’s 1-0 to Senegal after 45 minutes and it is hard to argue that this game is more important than the 4.5bn-year-old meteorite with which it shares the space. One impacted the Earth at 45,000 miles per hour. The other has barely shifted the third-place rankings.

So, onwards. Past the primates and the birds of North America is an immersive exhibition that goes by the name of Goal Zone. It appears to be functioning as a creche for overstimulated kids. I would have no issue with this, but Goal Zone features an array of football-related games and I want to play every one. Except I am an adult and every other adult in here has a child. I could believe that a few have had kids merely so they can continue doing things like this. A hall pass for never growing up. It sounds quite nice. I haven’t yet given up hope, so I head to LeFrak on the first floor. LeFrak is a restored Beaux-Arts theatre dating back to 1900. In 1927, it showed motion pictures celebrating what would have been the 69th birthday of Theodore Roosevelt. The following year, it put on what is thought to be the first film to show lions devouring their kill. Today it is showing France versus Norway.

The screen is like nothing I’ve ever seen. At 66x40ft, it swallows every inch of your vision. In the first few rows you have to rotate your head to take in the whole thing. I never thought that I wanted to watch Kylian Mbappé stretched out to the height of a quaking aspen, but it turns out that I do.

There’s only so much hooliganism you can muster in a former lecture hall, but when Norway miss their penalty, the crowd in the theatre erupts. These aren’t part-timers. These are people, who at 3pm on a muggy Friday, realised that they can go to an exhibit on minerals and watch the World Cup. These are the true fans — of both.

More power to them, because as Mike Maignan gets down to make his save, it hits. I never thought it would hit in a museum, but then it hits. Football fever. I stagger away after 10 minutes and I begin seeing them everywhere. There’s David Beckham walking past the dinosaurs. There’s an England back line learning about the science behind the Jabulani ball. There’s a man, wearing an Argentina flag like a cape and gliding past an Alaskan brown bear.

By now, I’m a lost cause. A panel on explosive volcanism? The World Cup has missed Luis Suárez. A room full of dinosaurs? I wonder how Richard Keys is doing. I conclude my trip in the Big Bang Theater, where I watch a film on the origins of the universe. I try to metaphorise as I take in the afterglow. The cosmos is a breathless expanse, hard to think about too deeply, but when it comes to an England game, all I care about is what happens on a single strip of grass on a tiny corner of a tiny planet. I rattle some ideas around my head about certainty, formations and the unerring arrangement of celestial bodies. I think I’m close to nailing it, but then the film ends and I hear a cheer. France have scored again.

Photograph by ANHM