The FIFA World Cup is here again. The tournament remains the pinnacle of international football, bringing together the world’s best senior men’s national teams every four years to compete for the ultimate prize.
The champions walk away with the famous trophy, gold medals and substantial cash rewards. Brazil remains the most successful nation in World Cup history with five titles since the inaugural tournament, which was hosted and won by Uruguay in 1930.
The competition was suspended between 1942 and 1946 because of World War II. The 2026 edition is historic for several reasons. It is the first World Cup to be hosted by three countries — the United States, Mexico and Canada. Mexico becomes the first nation to host the tournament three times, having previously staged it in 1970 and 1986.
The United States, meanwhile, hosts for the second time after the memorable 1994 tournament. Unlike the 24-team competition of USA ’94, this year’s World Cup features an expanded field of 48 nations.
For many football fans, the USA ’94 final remains unforgettable. Brazil and Italy battled to a goalless draw before Brazil triumphed 3-2 in a penalty shoot-out. The defining moment came when Italian star Roberto Baggio, who had built a huge following through his brilliant performances, blasted his spot kick over the bar.
Brazil claimed a fourth World Cup title while Baggio’s miss became one of the most iconic moments in football history. For me, USA ’94 was my third consecutive World Cup final after watching Mexico ’86 and Italia ’90.
By then, I was already a devoted football fan. The earlier tournaments had been exciting, but watching them was never easy. As a teenager, I did not have a television set at home. Following the World Cup often meant sneaking into neighbourhoods where families owned televisions, especially on weekends.
I would sometimes skip evening studies in Iganga Town Council and accept whatever punishment followed the next day. Not every plan succeeded, but somehow I always found a way to watch. By 1994, I believed things would be different.
I had completed my Grade III Teacher’s Certificate at Kibuli Teachers’ College and had been posted to Kakubo UMEA Primary School, about 15 kilometres southwest of Mpigi Town. I was young, energetic and excited about both my new career and the upcoming World Cup.
In preparation for the tournament, I helped organise football activities at the school. The playground was cleared and properly marked. Young people from nearby villages such as Kiryanyonza, Kamugombwa and Bumozi were encouraged to take an interest in the game.
I also persuaded fellow teachers to join the initiative, although only one colleague, Mustapha Kabali, fully embraced the idea. At the time, I dreamed of buying a black-and-white Tactics 14 television set, which cost around Shs 100,000.
Other brands such as Sony, Panasonic, Philips, JVC, Toshiba and Sanyo were available but far beyond my reach. Eventually, I abandoned the idea. First, there was no electricity in Kakubo. Second, purchasing a television would have consumed nearly three months of my salary.
Third, there was no guarantee that a set powered by a car battery would receive a clear Uganda Television (UTV) signal. Despite giving up on owning a television, I never abandoned my determination to watch the World Cup. As kickoff approached, it became clear that hardly anyone in Kakubo owned a television.
My friends and I explored alternatives in nearby villages such as Kitimba, Lukalu, Bboza, Kabasanda and Mpigi. Yet even where televisions existed, few owners were willing to welcome strangers into their homes late at night.
We even considered renting a room in Bujuuko along the Kampala-Mityana Road solely for watching matches. That idea also collapsed. Still unwilling to surrender, I devised another plan. Whenever possible, I travelled to Kibuli in Kampala to watch selected matches, especially on weekends.
This often meant sacrificing extra income from private coaching sessions. I taught English and Social Studies in upper primary classes, where close supervision from education officials and parents made extra lessons almost mandatory.
Yet I frequently skipped them in pursuit of football. My absences soon attracted the attention of the headteacher, who reported the matter to the PTA chairman. Despite repeated warnings, I continued slipping away on Fridays and returning late on Sunday nights.
The journey involved walking from Kakubo to Mpigi through Lukalu before boarding a taxi to Kam- pala. Only after the final between Brazil and Italy did my concentration return to the classroom. By then, however, the damage had probably already been done.
My obsession with football had reached extraordinary levels. After just one term at my first posting, I resigned and moved closer to Kampala in search of new opportunities. Ironically, that same USA ’94 obsession eventually pushed me into football refereeing.
What began as a passion for watching matches evolved into a lifelong hobby that brought me into contact with some of Uganda’s football greats across different generations, including Jackson Mayanja, Sam Ssimbwa, Nestroy Kizito and Geoffrey Sserunkuma.
Looking back today, I realise that USA ’94 was more than just a World Cup. It was a turning point that shaped my relationship with football and influenced the direction of my life in ways I could never have imagined.