"Russia, Back!": How Russians Are Watching the World Cup Five Years After the War
A sofa and a TV remote control are the main features of almost all the commercials airing for Russian football fans this year. The World Cup is confined to the confines of an apartment. Beer and chips, shrimp, Yandex delivery, and phone betting—that's about all the advertisers think viewers should be interested in.
Just a few years ago, these commercials were much more vibrant and dynamic, taking place in packed stadiums and city squares. If it was beer, the frame would show dozens of fans at a sports bar. If it was chips, a bag would be passed from hand to hand across the street. Dancing, hugs, handshakes. A different scale. A different life.
Now, those who previously enjoyed traveling abroad to the World Cup and experiencing the action are forced to stay home due to visa and logistics issues. And those who watched the broadcasts in bars, surrounded by boisterous crowds of other fans, are canceling their usual get-togethers due to rising prices.
How Russians are following the world football scene, from which their national team was expelled four years ago—in this article from "NeMoskva."
Match by phone
Volgograd. July 3. 8:30 p.m.
There are 30 minutes left until the match between Australia and Egypt, taking place in the American city of Arlington. It's the last sixteen of the finals. Nine thousand kilometers from Volgograd.
We meet Natalia in one of the courtyards. She gets behind the wheel of her blue Chevrolet, plugs her phone charger into the cigarette lighter, and checks for mobile data. Music from the commercials that play before Match TV broadcasts reverberates through the cabin:
There's a moon outside, but the fan isn't sleeping.
A championship comes to every home.
Natalia won't be watching today's match at home. Nor will she be at a bar with friends. Fans aren't expecting much excitement from Australia's clash with Egypt, so they can afford to sacrifice picture and sound quality. And even if her phone's internet connection goes out, it's no big deal. But she's almost out of gas.
Natalia decided to spend this match in line at the gas station.
Her relationship with football began in 2000, when she was 13.
— I went with my dad to cheer for our Volgograd team, Rotor, — she recalls. — A special atmosphere began even before the match; everyone was energized and positive. It was as if an electric current emanated from the crowd in the stadium, and if the team won, it multiplied a hundredfold. It was a thrilling celebration, walking to the last bus after the match in a large crowd, holding a scarf over your head and screaming fan chants at the top of your lungs.
In big. Football. Someone. Plays.
And I. Love. The. Team. Rooootor!
In this coordinate system, the World Championship was a special occasion. And doubly so when a Rotor player was called up to the Russian national team.
— The excitement started with the qualifying [matches], and we were rooting for them like crazy, — Natalia continues. — Because they knew Russia probably wouldn't qualify. So they had a blast while they had the chance. But when the team was eliminated, they started rooting for some other country close to them. Georgia or Ukraine, for example.
We stop about 100 meters from the gas station. There are only 15 or 20 cars in line. For July 2026, that's incredibly small, and the reason is clear: the station is closed for maintenance. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the roofs of the cars, the yellow barrel of a fuel tanker gleams, emptying the fuel into a storage tank. This usually takes about an hour, but today the maintenance break will likely be longer: at 8:39 p.m., a missile alert was issued for the region.
"Turn off gas, water, electricity and proceed to the nearest shelter," reads the text message that arrived on the phone.
Only gas station employees respond to the danger signal: following instructions, they stop working. The rest of the city goes on with its life: the avenues hum, people walk. It's Friday evening. A Gazelle car joins the line for our Chevrolet.
The match between Australia and Egypt begins. The score is zero-zero. The same zeros are on the gas station's electronic price display.
— I used to watch the World Cup at home, — Natalia continues. "First, with my parents, then with friends and my husband. But 2018, of course, spoiled us greatly. The bar was raised: the World Cup came to our country, including Volgograd. On the football field were the stars of the English national team, their faces covered in June midges. In the streets and stands were fans from all over the world. Everyone saw what a real celebration should look like for those six weeks. Screens broadcasting the game were set up in the central squares, and crowds of people gathered around them. And you simply couldn't watch the football at home anymore. The whole city and the whole country lived for football, as it should be.
The Russian national team was on a confident path to the next World Cup, defeating five countries in the 2021 qualifying rounds. They lost to Croatia but qualified for the playoffs. However, then the Kremlin launched a war, and Russia was disqualified.
— The last hope has disappeared, — says Natalia. — I used to enjoy at least watching the qualifying games. If we don't lose and make it to the group stage, that means at least three more matches. And if we're lucky and make it to the playoffs, it's a real treat. But now we're deprived of even the qualifying games. It's worse than a doping penalty.
The text message that the missile alert has been lifted arrives at 9:39 p.m. A minute earlier, Australia equalizes thanks to an own goal by an Egyptian defender.
One-one.
The electronic display at the Volgograd gas station remains the same: zero-zero. Behind the Chevrolet, there's a sizable line, disappearing around the bend. The few drivers are smoking on the side of the road; most are sitting in their cars.
— Oh, if only there was a broadcast on the big screen! — Natalia says ironically. — But the championship is not exactly welcomed here now; there are no outdoor screens for it. Why should we live by these Western values and follow this international football showdown?
Gasoline price tags appear around 23 p.m. AI-92 is sold at 65,6 rubles per liter. AI-95 is unavailable.
The score between Australia and Egypt remains unchanged. The teams have already played regulation time and are resting before extra time. Match TV is showing an ad for non-alcoholic beer with chips, urging people to win up to 15 rubles by registering on the bookmaker's website.
— Even the advertising has become dull, — Natalia reasons. — He encourages you to stay home and keep a low profile. He hasn't discussed with anyone the fact that you weren't allowed to march in a crowd down the street after your team won a game. Not to mention the fact that flying from Russia to the World Cup is completely impossible right now.
For the first time in two hours, she turns the key and drives a few meters: the line begins to move, cars are being pulled into the gas station. Today, she's lucky—all four pumps are working. We finish the penalty shootout after we've received the 20-liter limit and parked at the exit.
Australia scores two goals, Egypt four. The stands roar in Arlington, USA. At a Volgograd gas station, nozzles and gas caps click. Judging by the sad faces, none of the drivers are watching football. But those who waited in line and finally filled up are inhaling the gasoline scent of victory.
The screens are getting quieter
This year, Russians prefer to watch football at home.
Measurements by the research company Mediascope showIt's clear that over the past four weeks, World Cup broadcasts have dominated the ratings of the most popular programs among Russians. Specifically, football has displaced leading propaganda and entertainment shows, including "Battle of Psychics," "Vremya," and "Vesti Nedeli" with Dmitry Kiselev, from the top television viewing spots. Meanwhile, the audience of Match TV, which received exclusive rights to broadcast the 2026 World Cup in Russia, has grown almost fivefold.
What else is there to watch? There are no decent movies. TV shows are full of traditional values. Fairy tales about greatness and the Pechenegs are boring. The author is too. At least here we can watch some men kicking a gingerbread man.
(comment from a subscriber of "NeMoskva")
Pubs, once considered hotspots for football fans, are also seeing a decline in customers. Russians have begun to economize amid rising prices and the fuel crisis. Watching football at the bar is no longer a necessary expense. For most Russians, neither is simply dining out. Over the past six months, traffic to food establishments across the country has fallen by almost 10% (while the average bill has increased by 18%).
In an interview with Kommersant, the owners of the establishments noteDuring the 2022 World Cup, tables were reserved a week or two in advance, and there were no available seats. Now, however, you can find a table for an important match simply by showing up at the bar.
"NeMoscow" checked this.
One of the cities of the Volga region. July 14. 9:20 p.m.
There are 40 minutes left until the match between France and Spain. Just two guys are sitting in a 40-seat craft beer pub, discussing football. Two screens, broadcasting the match, are already on.
— Choose any place you like, we don’t have any reservations for today, — These are the words the bartender greets you with.
Five minutes before kickoff, about half the seats are taken, and a small line even forms at the beer taps. The owner of the establishment comes to the rescue, pouring beer himself, serving snacks, and chasing away the young people trying to get through with their Coke.
- Buy at least something and watch without any problems, - he addresses the "violators."
Two young men, apparently students, approach the refrigerator, glance at the prices, and leave silently. The cheapest beer on tap is 250 rubles for 0,3 liters. Bottled beer starts at 300 rubles and up.
The vast majority of patrons are men between the ages of 30 and 50. Almost everyone orders the same thing: beer and croutons.
The first thing you notice during the broadcast is the almost complete silence in the room. People converse with each other in barely a whisper. The usual noise and shouting are absent. There's a sense of restraint in everything—in words, emotions, comments, and discussions. It's as if everyone is afraid to say anything unnecessary.
In the smoking room, the bar owner reflects on how the World Championships used to be more lively.
“Of course, I won’t compare it to 2018, because the situation was completely different there, and football advertising was blaring from every corner of the internet,” he says. — But, for example, in 2010, our hall was full, and people were standing. Even though the championship was held in South Africa, the broadcasts were during daylight hours, and the Russian team didn't participate.
According to the establishment's owner, more fans are attending the 2026 World Cup broadcast than the previous one: because the 2022 World Cup was held in winter, and everyone watched it from home.
“But in general, everything has calmed down a lot now,” he sums up. — Zoomers don't go to bars, they don't drink alcohol. And those who used to go have grown up and had children. Some have quit drinking. And a lot of kids have moved away.
The bar owner did not specify where exactly they went—abroad or to war.
Out of the game
Andrey lives in the Moscow region and is just over 50. He has been interested in football since childhood.
— My father was a fan of Torpedo, — he explains. — When I was seven or eight, he took me to the stadium. And it all just happened. I was hooked!
He felt like, in Soviet times, adults went to the stadium to socialize—football seemed to remain in the background. At least, that's how it looked to a child.
"Back then, people would quietly drink and snack in the stands, and it didn't bother anyone. They'd discuss all sorts of things, and not always about football. The atmosphere was lively and relaxed. But in the '90s, fans began to split into groups, and a fan community emerged. The number of adults in the stands noticeably decreased—it was mostly young people who went there for fun. Back then, you could often get caught up in fights between idiots. Things calmed down towards the end of the 2000s. And after the 2018 World Cup, more and more families with children are coming to Russian stadiums."
The first World Cup that Andrey remembers was back in 1986 in Mexico. He remembers it "solely because of Maradona" (the famous Argentine scored five goals in that tournament, including two of his most famous—the "hand of god" and the "goal of the century").
At first, Andrey watched broadcasts of world matches on national TV. Then, once he got back on his feet, he began traveling abroad to various championships. He attended matches in the Czech Republic, Finland, Turkey, Spain, and Croatia. When the World Cup was held in Russia, he cheered at Moscow stadiums and fan zones.
“When you’re in the thick of things, it’s hard to put your emotions into words,” says Andrey. — I guess I'd say it's a celebration! Crowds of strolling fans from different countries, with their colorful outfits, dancing, singing, drunken faces, and even brawls. The constant buzz and joy on everyone's faces. I don't understand how something like this can disturb and divide people.
After 2022, he won't travel abroad—it's "too expensive." He now watches international football matches at home, sometimes in bars.
— The atmosphere in the bar is somewhat similar to the atmosphere in the stadium, — Andrey believes. "There's just more noise and emotion because the confined space is oppressive! As for the fan culture, it's about the same in Russia as in other countries. The only difference might be the amount of alcohol. Otherwise, people generally behave pretty much the same in times of joy and sorrow."
- The cost of air travel from Russia to the USA, Canada or Mexico starts at 120 rubles per person (including return travel).
- To visit the United States or Canada, you need to obtain a visa (visa centers are not operating in Russia; the closest countries where you can get a visa are Kazakhstan and Poland).
- The 2026 World Cup stadium ticket prices have proven to be the most expensive in history. Just last month, available tickets for the quarterfinals started at 240 rubles (last fall, they were available for 10 times less).
- Tickets for the final, which were selling for between 200 and 600 rubles in the fall, now cost between 680 and 9 million rubles.
- Including accommodation and meals, the most economical trip to the 2026 World Cup from Russia started in June at 300 rubles.
Andrei took the team's disqualification after the start of the war as a blow.
"No matter what, our team has always been both a joy and a pain. A source of abuse, gossip, ridicule, and jokes. As the saying goes, from love to hate... But it's certainly a part of my life. The part that gives me emotions. And every time Russia qualified for a major tournament, it was a source of hope, and hope was the last to die."
Andrey says it took some time to accept the new reality. Now he simply enjoys the competition, the beautiful goals, and the joy for those who are more fortunate than us.
"I don't see the point in dwelling on this. Being offended and looking for someone to blame is a thankless task. I can only feel regret. During this time, a young generation of talented and promising players has emerged in our team. But unfortunately, there's no opportunity to watch them in action, to be happy or disappointed."
I love football. I watch every World Cup match. Our team isn't there. And, as [Polish national team captain Robert] Lewandowski said, "It's a shame about the athletes, but you can't pretend nothing's happening." And I agree with him 100%.
I truly feel sorry for the athletes for ruining the careers they've strived for their entire lives. But most of them remain silent.
(from a letter from a subscriber of "NotMoscow")
For the safety of our respondents and staff, all photos in this article are illustrative and taken from photo banks. The names of interviewees have been changed.
