Monday 15 / June / 2026
On the morning of 12 June, one day after the 2026 FIFA World Cup kicked off, my news feed was overflowing with videos of Bosnian fans, thousands of whom had travelled across the Atlantic to watch their team take part in their team’s opening game, which took place on Friday afternoon in Toronto.
Their opponents? Co-hosts Canada.
Reels shared online showed both sets of fans singing raucously and proudly bearing banners as wide as the streets they were marching on. Occasionally, they set off flares: red for the hosts, blue for the visitors.
I had to see this for myself: it isn’t very often that one gets to live in a city that hosts the World Cup. Here, I feel I owe you an explanation.
In 2022, I left Oman for Canada, just five months before the World Cup was to kick off in Qatar. I’ve loved football for the better part of 20 years, and have covered the sport for a living, I’d thoroughly enjoyed covering the buildup to Qatar 2022, and was heartbroken that I wouldn’t be able to experience the tournament first-hand.
It would appear, however, that fate had other plans in store for me: I now live in Toronto.
My mind made up, I headed to the nearby train station: a 10-minute drive from where I am. My destination: Liberty Village, located on the northern shore of Lake Ontario, and just south of Downtown Toronto, the hub of the city.
It took me a little more than 20 minutes to get where I needed to, thanks to the city’s efforts to ramp up public transit to meet the needs of millions of football fans who will be coming to the city this summer.
I felt the electric thrum of tens of thousands of passionate football fans the moment I got off at my destination, I heard them long before I saw them. When I came across both groups of supporters, it was a sight to behold.
On my left, tens of thousands of Bosnian fans, chanting in unison, ceremonially banging drums, and proudly waving their blue-and-yellow flags. On the right, keen not to be outdone, marched Canadians, clad in the red of the national team, as far as the eye can see, the maple leaf fluttering proudly in the summer breeze.
When the two groups met, there was no conflict, no police needed to break up scuffles, no ambulances arriving on the scene: Canadians are known as some of the world’s friendliest people – the stereotype of them saying ‘sorry’ too often is absolutely true – high-fiving and chatting with the Bosnians, their rivalry temporarily put aside in celebration of a shared spectacle. The Bosnians even brought with them a gigantic container of coffee, keen to make friends wherever they went.
Within Toronto Stadium on the water’s edge, Canada had pulled out all the stops, following the glorious drone display the previous night with a concert featuring some of the country’s finest: Michael Buble, Alanis Morisette, and Nora Fatehi – the latter a household name among Bollywood fans in Muscat and beyond.
Tickets for the game had been sold out long before, so I went to the nearby fan fest to absorb the vibes, soaking up the atmosphere among thousands of fellow supporters in front of giant screens and massive speakers. Minutes later, fans across the country, from Vancouver (Canada’s other host city) to Toronto and beyond stood as one, proudly belting out the lyrics to the national anthem, ‘O Canada’: a goosepimple-inducing moment, one in which I am not ashamed to say that I took part.
As the match ended, I chose not to join the fans heading back home. Instead, I just stood there, marvelling at the vibe around me, realizing the unifying power of football.
Unlike in the Middle East, where it is not uncommon to see supporters wear the jerseys of their favourite Argentine superstar or a certain Portuguese legend, football – or ‘soccer’ as it is called in Canada – falls down the pecking order, behind ice hockey, basketball, and baseball. This summer, however, Canadians have wholeheartedly embraced the sport that is played on a green pitch with a goal at either end.
This year, the world’s biggest sporting event has become bigger, and I am excited to be in the middle of it all.
The writer is a former employee of Times of Oman
