New Zealand’s approach to the World Cup is “just happy to be here,” having only qualified twice previously, in 1982 and 2010. To us, simply getting invited to the party is enough—even if it is through a slot newly reserved for Oceania, potentially the easiest qualification path in the world. (We pumped 29 goals past Tahiti, Fiji, Samoa, and Vanuatu to secure it.) And one doesn’t arrive at the party as the least popular kid there and make a scene.
In 2010, we achieved the impressive, rare feat of going undefeated at a World Cup without winning a match. Three attritional draws: 1–1 against Slovakia, 1–1 against Italy, 0–0 against Paraguay. The games were played in the middle of the night, New Zealand Standard Time, and did not feature the type of football that could keep fairweather fans awake even in daylight. I, for one, was playing football in high school and couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to watch them live. Instead, the (brief) highlights and final scores were celebrated like a victory. That’s the best we could’ve hoped for, well done lads, especially for such a small country. New Zealand’s favorite pastime is to grade itself on a per capita basis rather than according to the scoreboard: admittedly a more impressive exercise during the Olympics than at a World Cup.
This year’s tournament is being previewed with little fanfare, and many New Zealanders aren’t able to name a single player in the unfortunately named All Whites. The United States’ role as a host nation has likely deterred interest among some. The murder of its own citizens by ICE, arbitrary international tariffs, and, most vitally, the aiding of the bombardment of Palestine and the now-active bombing of Iran has presented a political conundrum for New Zealand. For so long, the global “enemies” of freedom have seemed so far away from us and how we live. And for most New Zealanders without a keen sense of moral and political justice, the U.S. has been neither friend nor foe, just the place where everything is bigger—where, if you can find success as a New Zealander, you know you’ve made it. In another year, the All Whites could well have followed this very path. But it’s hard to feel the same when most of us have abruptly lost the appetite for America, replaced with the vague hope that maybe if we quietly distance ourselves, no one will notice.
In New Zealand, sports and politics don’t mix. Every three years, when the government is deciding on the date for the general election, it’s understood that it cannot fall on the same day as an All Blacks’ home match. (Rugby is the nation’s first and most-beloved son, the one we’re actually good at, while soccer is a forgotten lesser cousin.) Although New Zealand has a proud history of taking diplomatic stands—defying global powers in remaining nuclear-free, condemning the Iraq War when it started—as soon as sport enters the frame, the country’s record is decidedly murkier.
The ambivalence about New Zealand’s size and place in the world extends beyond the All Whites. Record numbers of New Zealanders have been leaving the country for greener pastures.
In 1976, when virtually the entire world had agreed on a sporting boycott of apartheid South Africa, New Zealand bucked the trend, sending the All Blacks on a monthslong rugby tour. The tour was beset by protests throughout South Africa and at home, but it persisted. At the outset of the 1976 Montreal Olympics, New Zealand athletes were still happily touring the apartheid state. Twenty-eight African nations called on the IOC to ban New Zealand from the Games for breaking the boycott, but the IOC refused. So those twenty-eight African nations boycotted the Olympics instead, specifically in protest of New Zealand’s inclusion. The runner and national hero John Walker went on to win the 1500m in Montreal, after his main rival pulled out as a part of Tanzania’s boycott; to this day, Walker is considered one of our most successful Olympic athletes.
Five years later, with South Africa still very much an apartheid state, New Zealand hosted the Springboks, its all-white rugby team. The 1981 Springbok tour remains one of the most divisive sociopolitical events in our history. At the time, the country was split between people who were against the racist, violent oppression occurring in South Africa, and people who just wanted to watch some rugger. Now, people look back on the protests that happened across the country as a display of our moral courage, our willingness to speak out when needed. What’s overlooked is the fact that New Zealand Rugby and the New Zealand government literally invited a globally condemned nation to hang out and forget about “politics” for a while, and a huge portion of the population, perhaps the majority, saw no problem with it.
All this is to say that one shouldn’t expect widespread outcry from New Zealand, even if animosity toward the current Trump regime is building. Our history suggests a willingness to ignore all political context once the whistle blows. More importantly, New Zealand just isn’t good enough at soccer for people to protest. Currently, we have but one (1) Premier League player, the meaty striker Chris Wood, a monolith around which the rest of the team orbits. Many of the local World Cup predictions have been less about how the All Whites will fare (poorly, one assumes), and more about whether any players will make use of the opportunity to impress international scouts. In other words, everyone’s rooting for the boys at their big soccer trial.
Will the All Whites ever be competitive? Maybe. Rugby’s stranglehold on the nation has been loosening over the past decade. More New Zealand kids now play soccer than rugby, and the gap is growing as more parents opt not to watch their children receive routine traumatic brain injuries on Saturday mornings. Statistically, New Zealand is more likely to find success with the women’s team, the more appropriately named Football Ferns. They’re the only national side to win a World Cup match to date, but still, most consider this a smaller success than the men’s three draws. Even as the game grows, it’s hard to imagine New Zealand finding a true passion for a sport largely brushed aside for a century. Once the tournament starts, the bandwagon will momentarily fill up if the All Whites manage to snatch another draw from the jaws of defeat. But given the current state of the world, a draw might not be enough to excite us. A win, though? There might be a parade.
The ambivalence about New Zealand’s size and place in the world extends beyond the All Whites. Record numbers of New Zealanders have been leaving the country for greener pastures. The foreign minister, Winston Peters, has chosen to embrace our diminutive size, making as little noise as possible and hoping Trump forgets we exist. It’s seemed to work so far, and that strategy won’t change during a World Cup, no matter what the U.S. does. But the tides could be turning. In the first week of March, the major conservative governing party recorded its worst poll results all term, thanks in large part to Prime Minister Christopher Luxon’s botched attempts to remain “neutral” in the aftermath of the U.S.–Israeli attacks on Iran. His failure to condemn—or, for some, approve—the actions proved a lose-lose strategy nine months out from an election. That was front-page news, and way down in the corner of the back sports section was a note that the All Whites’ opening match at the World Cup was in jeopardy. Their opponent? Iran.