No Wales? No problem: Why I travelled to the World Cup even though my team weren’t there
He bought tickets to see Wales play in the World Cup before they lost their place. Can Gav Murphy find solace in California despite the lack of his beloved national team?
Despite everyone and everything – we are still here!” The words of the Welsh football team’s unofficial anthem, Yma o Hyd, rang out around the Cardiff City Stadium. Unlike most evenings here, though, there wasn’t a single fan belting the lyrics back out into the sky. We’d just witnessed the worst possible outcome of any sport: losing a penalty shootout. We were not “still here” or anywhere, for that matter, because Wales would not be going to the 2026 World Cup.
As I looked around at my damp-cheeked comrades, it suddenly dawned on me that the trajectory of my entire summer had changed and I’d no longer be journeying across Canada and the USA to watch my country play on the biggest stage in world sport.
I’ve travelled to the likes of Armenia, Kazakhstan, Qatar and even England to watch Wales play football, and I’d romanticised my trip to Los Angeles to watch us take on Switzerland to such an extent that I’d already planned my route to the stadium. My dive bar options for pre and post game were nailed on. But that was no longer to be. Or was it?
In my excitement, I’d already purchased my ticket to that game for a price so financially offensive that it should’ve put me off the World Cup altogether. But there I was one evening in April researching the “best beaches near SoFi stadium for sad men” with Huntington Beach being almost unanimously top of the list. Would visiting the State where Wales should have been playing help me get over my World Cup sadness? There was only one way to find out.
‘Best beaches near SoFi stadium for sad men’
And so it was that I found myself touching down in what the locals refer to as “Surf City USA”, 10 miles of crystal seas and honey-tinted beaches full of impossibly beautiful and friendly people all eager to tell you about their favourite spot for a sunset beer. It’s the kind of place you always hope you’ll end up in California but rarely do. It’s less than an hour from LAX and a far nicer drive than the one to Santa Monica – the perfect place to cheer up before potentially the saddest football game anyone’s ever experienced.
Some of the biggest stadiums at this World Cup are tens of miles from the city and there was a feeling many shared before the start of the tournament that Americans wouldn’t even know it was happening. While this might be terrible news for fans eager to soak up the atmosphere with their fellow countrymen, when you’ve travelled to the World Cup without a team and are running on nothing but vibes and grief, staying somewhere where people aren’t mentioning the football sounded perfect.
It’s a shame nobody thought to tell the people of Huntington Beach that because they could not have been more excited that just 30-ish miles up the road, some of the biggest names in football would be cutting about SoFi stadium. The streets were lined with banners welcoming World Cup revellers and promoting beachside watch parties. Bars proudly announced they’d be showing “every game” complete with drinks promos promising everything from cheap beers to themed cocktails including the Lionel Spritzi.
I checked into the stunning beachside Kimpton Shorebreak, a resort hotel that comes with the most added complimentary features I’ve ever seen, including vinyl record player, packs of S’mores for their fire pits and a happy hour which turned the lobby into a kind of cosy, welcoming pub.
“Are you here for the soccer?” one of the S’mores providers asked.
“I am indeed” I answered as I grabbed fistfuls of mallow. Then she asked me when England were playing and I realised that this could end up being a regular occurrence. I decided that wearing a Welsh football top for the rest of the trip would help. Let me tell you now: it did not. But as the days before kickoff rolled on, I got much better at explaining what I was doing going to watch a game my country were no longer playing in.
I put together a sadness-combating itinerary which kicked off with the most laid back boat trip I’ve ever been on around Huntington’s harbour and marinas. Prince Charters know that sometimes being out on the actual sea is a pain and what most people want from a boat trip is to sail around calm waters past beautiful houses whilst occasionally saying “that’s a nice one” and drinking a few cold beers as the sun goes down.
I was up early the following day to try something that not only had I never attempted but actively feared – surfing. I figured then that there was absolutely zero danger of me actually standing up on a surfboard given that I have all the grace of a medically-compromised giraffe. I made it clear to my instructor that I expected to spend the next two hours headbutting water detached from my surfboard but he seemed unphased, and after just 15 minutes of practicing on dry land suggested that we get into the water.
“Are you ready?” my instructor shouted, gesturing to some waves.
I wasn’t but I also didn’t want to look uncool in front of Surf Guy so I shifted myself around, pointed my board away from the wave and heard the phrase I’d been dreading,
“Pop up…POP UP!!”
I did indeed pop and much to my surprise found myself riding a wave with a confidence I never knew I had. It felt illegally fast but I kept on top of that thing until I got back to shore and stepped off almost nonchalantly and looked to see a double thumbs-up sticking out of the water. Surf Guy was proud. Maybe everything wasn’t that bad? Maybe not qualifying for the World Cup meant very little given what I’d just experienced, standing up on a bloody surf board on my first try!
As I was now a fully qualified surfer dude, I rewarded myself with a visit to something called Surf City Nights. It’s a huge market that opens once a week, where the locals come together to showcase the best food, drink and live music in the area. Eager to once again step out of my comfort zone, I strayed from my usual culinary path when I saw a stall called Sumo’s Pickles selling chunky pickles stuffed with all manner of things. I opted for the Peanut Butter Cheesecake which, for better or worse, tasted like nothing else in the human world and I turned in for the night full of cursed dill and S’mores.
The match – without Wales
With the game looming ever closer, I needed to start preparing myself for two heartbreaking halves of football so woke up with the seagulls and strutted onto an empty beach for some sunrise yoga with a lovely and patient local lady named Michel. I was glad of the empty beach because the noises coming from my mouth were anything but zen. But after greeting the morning with some absolutely stellar “breath work” (no idea) a sudden calm came over me. I was ready to go watch a World Cup game without my team.
I found myself outside the SoFi Stadium as droves of fans flooded to their seats. I stared at the ticket in my app which now said “Switzerland vs. Bosnia and Herzegovina” instead of “vs. Wales” and grabbed two small beers in souvenir cups not featuring the Welsh flag. I’d spent all week trying to distract myself with the best Huntington Beach had to offer but now here I was, listening to thousands of Bosnian fans singing a song I didn’t understand. I was sad that I wasn’t hearing my compatriots belting out Yma o Hyd but at the same time felt buoyed by the week’s shenanigans. I asked my Bosnian seat neighbour what he was singing and looked up the lyrics to their unofficial football anthem, Lilijani. The chorus seemed incredibly pertinent: “Within this city, I’ve got nobody else.”
Bosnia ended up getting absolutely humped by a rampant Swiss team, a 97th minute Granit Xhaka penalty crowning a 4-1 victory. In my heart I imagine Wales putting in a far better shift, but hey – at least I’d stood up first try on a surf board.
• For loads of helpful info for planning your next trip visit the Surf City USA website here