Two weeks of FIFA Fan Fest in Kansas City: A World Cup dispatch of fitted out fans
It’s one thing to be a soccer fan during the World Cup; it’s another to really dress the part.
Kansas City’s FIFA Fan Fest on the grounds of the World War I Museum and Memorial had examples in every which way, and from every which place. With the first two weeks of Fan Fest now under our belts, organizing group KC2026 reports an attendance of over 63,000 visitors and 178 countries at the Fest from June 11-16, with numbers from the June 19-21 block to come.
To share the sights, I picked a few key Fan Fest matches and found a mix of meaningful cultural wear, gaggy costumes, and one fan’s belief that “charisma”—both the characteristic and his app that apparently exists somewhere—will save the world.
Whether or not that’s true, the world’s game in our locale makes a very strong claim: that there is so much more to this life than Red Friday.
June 11, Mexico v. Republic of South Africa
Jahir, Rodrigo, and Miguel arrived late, but it at least meant avoiding the rain and a long opening day line.
Both Jahir and Miguel are KC locals with roots in Mexico. Rodrigo’s trip took a bit longer, though. He’s from Guatemala, and while his team didn’t qualify for this year’s World Cup, he’s made claim to another—as seen by his Argentina kit featuring Lionel Messi’s early-career jersey number, 19.
“I was really close with my first soccer coach, and he’s half Argentinian,” Rodrigo explains. Plus, he happens to like Argentina’s team a little more.
As I ask Jahir and Miguel about their outfits, our conversation ends understandably early. Mexico had just scored a goal, and I release the trio to a cheering, beer-soaked crowd throwing half-full cans of Michelob ULTRA in high, glorious arcs.
If I weren’t on the clock, I would have liked to join them.
Isabel, a KC local, is usually out rooting for the Royals or the Chiefs. This time, she made it to Fan Fest with her husband, a longtime soccer fan and supporter of Mexico’s national team. She’s wearing a traditional headdress from Chihuahua, Mexico, by the Indigenous Tarahumara tribe.
“I love it because it means a lot for our culture,” Isabel says, “and I’m so proud to wear it.”
It’s a gift from her sister, and what she puts on whenever it’s time for her teams to win—which Mexico did, by two goals.
June 16, Argentina v. Algeria
There is a man in what I’m soon told is an elaborate luchador costume, representative of Mexico. He goes by Super Santo, but it’s his plainly dressed associate, Carlos Charisma, who elects to speak to me. Mostly due to a language barrier.
“So, who are you rooting for tonight?” I ask.
Charisma starts with a long pause, then begins to laugh, then yells, “Well, Argentina, of course!”
“Could you tell me about Santo’s outfit?”
“It’s about charisma, about breaking the ice and getting your attention,” Charisma says. “And I’m the hero of the story.”
He goes on to compare himself to Mark Zuckerberg and Walt Disney.
“Everybody listening,” he continues, “join the Charisma app. That’s how we’re gonna fight back against social stress and the fear of rejection. You see it here, we’re talking like we’ve been friends forever. We are going to be the epicenter of this worldwide movement to save the world.”
Oh, the unifying powers of international football.
Lucas and partner Mariana’s World Cup plans began with a stop to buy some Argentina jerseys. Then, they saw the wigs.
“We never usually do anything like this, but had to go all out,” Mariana explains.
The two are originally from Florida, though Lucas has been living in KC for about a year while Mariana comes to visit. He clarifies that he’s always owned the jerseys of his country—a fair thing to do in an era rife with Messi LARPers—but they were all back south. And besides, they’d saved cash to burn since Fan Fest admission is free.
“We don’t have $3,000 to spend, so we’re out here to enjoy the Fest with everyone else who’s economically smart,” Lucas says. “And if you paid for tickets to watch your country lose against Argentina, I’m so sorry.”
The minute Algeria announced their base camp and matches in the KC area, Sid knew he’d be making a trip down from Michigan. And on the night of Algeria’s first match, he’d landed a spot near the stage’s barricade with his flag draped over his shoulders.
“Everyone’s been welcoming and friendly here, it’s really a World Cup environment,” Sid says of his visit.
It makes sense, especially considering the now viral bond between the World Cup hopefuls, their supporters, and the city of Lawrence, Kansas. But from even before the World Cup, Sid tells me about the rich history and established community among Algerians throughout the States. For example: the town of Elkader, Iowa, perhaps the only US city named after an Arab Muslim historical figure.
June 19, Australia vs. United States of America
After seeing a very tall man sweating in a blue suit, a scarf, and an even taller patriotic top hat, I’ll admit that I stalked Kyle Seager until he sat down to watch the match.
Seager grew up in Kansas City with a childhood that was, of course, full of soccer. He played for 13 years and has been a referee for 16, so far. As for the outfit, he explains he’s going for an Uncle Sam theme—”I want YOU to watch the World Cup,” he says. “After all,” he continues, “where better to celebrate the beautiful game than Soccer City, USA?”
Seager opens his jacket to show me a hidden inside pocket, stashed with yellow and red cards.
May his judgement reign from the not-quite sidelines.
Despite the nearly 9,000 miles between Kansas City and Sydney, Australia’s Socceroos did not go without support here.
While Jo and Joanne are originally from Australia, they’ve lived in Lawrence for about 20 years (Jo’s husband is American). She admits she’s only been a soccer fan for as long as her oldest son began playing, but that interest is still 12 years strong. And at a Fan Fest filled with far more Ecuadorian yellow than Aussie yellow, perhaps that kind of devotion is necessary.
“I thought there’d be more people, but that just means we have to be loud and proud,” Jo says.
Thankfully, another group—stereotypically mustached and mulleted—brought an inflatable kangaroo to the grounds and did just that.









