The column argues that many Israelis follow the World Cup by adopting foreign identities, wearing the shirts of Brazil, Argentina, England, Germany, or the Netherlands and talking fluently about coaches, tactics, and star players as if they belonged to those nations. It says this habit reflects a long-running attempt, going back to Mexico 1970, to “sneak into” a celebration Israel was not invited to join.
Against that backdrop, the writer asks why Israelis do not instead wear the shirt of Moti Spiegler, who delivered what the piece describes as Israel’s one truly shared World Cup moment. That goal, scored in Toluca at Mexico 1970, is presented as the only memory that was genuinely “ours,” and the column contrasts it with the borrowed fandom of supporting players like Harry Kane or Achraf Hakimi.
The article recalls waking at 3:50 a.m. to watch Lionel Messi equal Miroslav Klose atop the all-time World Cup scoring list, then confronting the ordinary morning consequences, including a wife with Buenos Aires roots losing sleep and sending the author to walk the dog and take down the laundry. It compares that helpless feeling to Cristiano Ronaldo’s inability to score against Congo, suggesting that even the greatest can get lost.
The piece ends by returning to Spiegler in Toluca and to Nahum Ben-Aharon’s dramatic broadcasting voice, saying that since then everything else has been another attempt to squeeze into someone else’s party. “What a relief that Messi came,” it concludes.
