FIFA World Cup. The Agony. The Misery. The Beauty

This short essay is for once not about anything profound or illustration related, or AI. Definitely not about AI and how tech companies are doubling down on doom trolling to increase the usage. Or how my 6-year-old found Dario Amodei incredibly relatable after his recent call for global pause on AI development and failure to deliver because the kids next door continue playing.

As for playing, I'm not even going to talk about all the AI in FIFA commercials (spoiler alert: there is plenty). Or the AI in the game itself. Soccer balls stuffed with sensors, 3D avatars, prediction models, noodles. Offside analytics becoming increasingly annoying and leading to goals getting discounted. Sometimes questionably.

Did Croatia truly deserve that at the end? I wholeheartedly disagree.

When I think about all the AI, watching this world cup reminds me of looking at a familiar human face stuffed with fillers. When I know the face from the past, used to like it a lot, and truly struggle to understand why it got injected. Or why so much? So unnecessarily excessive.

I'm not even talking about botox. The non-stop extraction in every aspect of FIFA's brand, advertising, and commentary. Yes, it always existed. Yes, this year it's taken to the next level.

How do I know? Only because I've been watching every FIFA and UEFA cup since I was a teenager. Happily enjoying the beauty of this game without all the tech injectables. Not asking AI what it thought about Zidane's headbutt. Or analyzing it for precision.

Watching FIFA this year makes me wonder at which point, as a society, we get overdosed on tech enough to stop inserting it in every aspect of our very human lives and culture? How soon will capitalism die? It's clearly running out of ideas and using David Beckham's very likable face as a shield.

Seriously, try counting the number of commercials he appears in at this world cup alone. Makes for quite a scavenger hunt.

Anyway, the answer is, hopefully, soon. I think what I am seeing and a lot of my friends are seeing with this year's FIFA is yet another symptom of needing to put it to bed soon. I wrote more about it in my recent essay on attention economy and redefining what attention truly means.

As for the matches themselves, I'm still enjoying. And rooting. Cursing. Yelling. Sometimes crying. When Cape Verde scored that second goal. Messi's face after. Big dreams opening new possibilities. Redefining the game.

Beautiful.