Outside BC Place, Canada's World Cup matches have transformed Vancouver.
Hours before kickoff, SkyTrain stations fill with supporters draped in red, blue, green — every colour possible. Downtown bars are at capacity, with some fully booked until the end of the tournament. Chants spill onto Granville Street as fans from around the world, dressed in jerseys representing dozens of countries, gather to celebrate the world's biggest sporting event. Even for those without tickets, the city has become one giant viewing party, with FIFA fan festivals, public screenings and restaurants packed well before the opening whistle.
Twelve kilometres west, however, the atmosphere is noticeably quieter.
On the afternoon of Canada's group-stage match against Qatar, students walked between summer classes carrying backpacks instead of flags, stayed in their dorms or cycled through Main Mall. It seemed like business as usual. Apart from a modest crowd gathered inside The Gallery at the AMS Nest and another at Soccer in the Square in Wesbrook Village, there were hardly any signs that Vancouver was hosting the World Cup on the planet. Or that Canada was playing that day.
For a university that prides itself on being one of the most international campuses in North America, the contrast is difficult to ignore.
UBC is home to roughly 60,000 students, more than a quarter of whom are international. During the FIFA World Cup, those students represent dozens of participating nations, each bringing different traditions, rivalries and memories of how soccer is celebrated back home. Yet, while much of Vancouver has embraced the tournament, the World Cup has struggled to leave the same mark on campus.
That isn't because students don't care — if anything, conversations across UBC suggest the opposite.
"I think the city's doing a good job," said Allison, a student in the Teacher Education Program, while watching Canada's match against Qatar at The Gallery. "I love seeing the flag on the mountain, and I love the flags on the bridge." Then she paused. "But if I was just living here in this area, I wouldn't even know that the World Cup is going on."
That sentiment surfaced repeatedly in conversations with students throughout the tournament.
Whether gathered at The Gallery or Soccer in the Square, many described Vancouver's atmosphere as energetic, exciting and unlike anything the city normally experiences. But when asked specifically about UBC, their enthusiasm often shifted toward disappointment because so little was happening on campus. One group of recently graduated students summed up their feelings in just two words: "Not enough."
Rachel, a student entering her third year, said the tournament felt like a missed chance on campus. "I think it would've been a good opportunity for UBC to host something," she said. "It's kind of a shame that they're not taking advantage of the World Cup."
Another student in Rachel’s group, Chloe, pointed out that while certain cultural clubs have organized events independently, those initiatives rarely reach the broader campus community. "All I've seen is initiatives from the smaller clubs, like the Colombian club. They're hosting parties and stuff, but it's not very integrated into the UBC community," she said.
Their comments reveal a curious paradox. The World Cup has undeniably created community among students — just not because of the university itself.
Instead, students have largely built that experience on their own. Some gather at the few places available at UBC, while others make the trip downtown to packed restaurants and sports bars or organize watch parties with friends. The result is a World Cup culture that exists — but in scattered pockets rather than across campus.
There are reasonable explanations for why that might be.
Unlike the previous tournament in 2022, this World Cup arrives during UBC's summer session. Thousands of students have returned home or are away for internships, co-op placements and vacations. Residence occupancy is lower than during the winter session and campus simply feels quieter.
Many students acknowledged that reality. "I guess it's summertime," one education student said while watching Canada's match. A group of master's students echoed that sentiment. "School's not in session," one explained. "A lot of students aren't here, so I don't know what promotion[s] would be beneficial."
They're not wrong. Walking through campus during the summer bears little resemblance to September or January. Lecture halls are emptier. Clubs operate with reduced executive teams, or don’t operate at all. Organizing large-scale events becomes significantly more difficult when much of the student body isn't present.
But the summer explanation only goes so far. After all, Vancouver itself hasn't felt empty. If anything, the city has felt more alive than ever. Even Soccer in the Square — technically located in Wesbrook Village rather than the heart of campus — has become a lively meeting point for students, families and local residents alike.
Sandra, a second-year master's student from Taiwan, admitted she wasn't even a major soccer fan before the tournament began. "I only watch the World Cup," she said. Still, she found herself drawn to the atmosphere. "I don't think I've seen downtown that busy before," she said. "I really like the vibe."
When asked what UBC has done to celebrate the tournament, however, she hesitated. "I honestly don't really know what UBC did for the World Cup."
Her answer may be one of the most telling. Disappointment implies expectations that weren't met, and uncertainty suggests something different altogether. For many students, there simply hasn't been enough happening on campus to notice. The irony becomes even more striking considering the university's identity.
UBC frequently celebrates its global community. International students are central to campus life, shaping everything from academics to student organizations. Cultural festivals, language exchanges and country-specific clubs are common throughout the academic year.
The World Cup seems like the perfect occasion to bring many of those communities together. Instead, much of that celebration has happened elsewhere. Students who want the atmosphere often leave campus; those unable to travel downtown settle for smaller gatherings with friends, and some simply watch alone.
Affordability has only reinforced that reality.
Although Vancouver is hosting World Cup matches for the first time, attending one has remained out of reach for many students. Ticket prices have climbed well beyond what many students’ budgets allow, making the stadium experience more a luxury than a realistic option.
When asked whether they planned to attend any matches, several students answered almost immediately: "It’s really [off] of the table.”
Others admitted they hadn't even looked for tickets, assuming they would be too expensive. That has changed how many students experience this once-in-a-generation event — rather than gathering inside BC Place, they gather around televisions.
Instead of celebrating in the stadium, they’re celebrating in bars, restaurants, living rooms and public watch parties, and in many ways, that makes the role of campus even more important. If students cannot afford to participate inside the stadium, then accessible community spaces become the next best thing. International students give so much to this university, and they are not receiving much back.
The question, then, isn't whether UBC students care about the World Cup. The conversations happening across campus suggest they clearly do. The bigger question is why so much of that enthusiasm seems to exist just beyond the university's borders.
My perspective is completely shaped by where I grew up — Brazil, where the World Cup is more than a sporting event. It becomes part of daily life. Schools adjust schedules around matches, offices empty before kickoff, streets fill with flags, jerseys and televisions pulled onto sidewalks as neighbours gather to watch together. Even people who rarely follow soccer become invested every four years. The tournament is impossible to ignore.
When Canada played Qatar, I was surprised to find myself sitting in an editorial meeting at The Ubyssey while the match was underway. Back home, scheduling a meeting during a World Cup game involving the national team would be unthinkable. It made me wonder whether I was expecting too much from UBC — or whether one of the world's largest international universities had genuinely missed an opportunity to embrace a once-in-a-lifetime event.
After speaking with students across campus, the answer seemed more nuanced than my own assumptions. My disappointment wasn't unique. While few expected UBC to replicate the scenes unfolding in downtown Vancouver or in soccer-mad countries like Brazil, many shared the feeling that the university could have done more to bring its community together. What I initially saw as a personal bias became a question echoed by students from Canada and around the world.
But the answer to that question, it turns out, can be found not in a university initiative, but in a student club. Cultural clubs have now stepped in where institutional programming has been limited and have created spaces for students who want to celebrate with others from home.
When Mexico, one of the host countries of the tournament, took the field in its opening World Cup match, members of the Mexican Student Association (MEXSA) weren't scattered across Vancouver watching alone. Instead, they filled a restaurant together, waving Mexican flags, celebrating goals and, for a few hours, recreating the atmosphere many of them had left thousands of kilometres behind.
For Tayde Asbun, the club's elected president, organizing watch parties was never simply about soccer. "It's kind of like a home [away] from home."
Like many international students, Asbun has spent the summer far from family while watching friends back home celebrate the World Cup together. Every four years, she explained, soccer becomes part of everyday life in Mexico, “part of a tradition that everybody follows.” So watching alone in Vancouver wasn't what she wanted for herself or for other students.
"I’ve talked with some friends, and they're like, ‘well, if you didn't organize it, I would just go to a bar alone and watch it, because I don't want to miss it.’” And MEXSA created something much closer to what students remembered from home.
The first watch party attracted around 30 people, many of whom had never attended a MEXSA event before. Alumni asked if they could join, recent graduates returned and friends invited classmates from other countries. Even Colombian students attended the event after MEXSA had supported them during Colombia's game only days earlier.
What began as a club event quickly became something more. "It's all about community," Asbun said. Her description captures something that repeatedly surfaced throughout conversations with students. The World Cup has become a reason to gather with people who may have otherwise never met — soccer provides the excuse, and community is the outcome.
The Colombian Student Association — known as COLSA — has also organized watch parties throughout the tournament, drawing students off campus to celebrate together. Two weeks ago, members of both clubs joined one another for a post-match celebration at Celebrities, bringing together students from different countries for a tournament that naturally blurs national boundaries. Rivalries existed for 90 minutes, but once the final whistle blew, everyone was simply part of the same celebration.
Ironically, many of those celebrations have happened far from UBC. Some unfold in Gastown restaurants. Others continue in bars along Granville Street. Still others end at cultural events organized by students themselves.
Asbun described one gathering after Mexico's victory that closely mirrored celebrations back home. After the match, students made their way downtown, where music, dancing and familiar faces turned an ordinary Vancouver night into something that felt unmistakably Mexican.
Later this summer, MEXSA plans to host another collaborative event with COLSA and the Peruvian Student Association at Kitsilano Beach — continuing a tradition that predates this year's World Cup but has taken on new significance during the tournament.
In many ways, these clubs are doing exactly what universities often hope student organizations will accomplish: creating belonging. For international students, that sense of belonging can be especially meaningful during the summer. Many remain in Vancouver while their families stay thousands of kilometres away. Flights home are expensive and time differences make following matches with relatives difficult. Watching soccer together cannot replace being home, but it can soften the distance.
"I thought I was going to be here in Vancouver alone," Asbun said, describing how some students approached the club's events.
Soccer has always been about more than soccer. It is about identities. It is about rituals. It is about memories.
For many students, watching their national team is inseparable from memories of childhood, family and community. Even those who only follow the sport every four years understand that feeling. Asbun laughed while admitting she becomes "a football fan every four years." She isn't alone.
Several students interviewed said they don’t watch soccer — they only watch the World Cup, yet still rearranged their schedules to catch Canada's matches. Others admitted they had become invested almost accidentally, drawn in by friends or by the atmosphere spreading across Vancouver.
Sandra, the master's student from Taiwan, confessed she hadn't considered buying tickets before the tournament began, but now she regrets that choice.
"I didn't realize I was that into football before the World Cup," she said. That transformation is part of what makes the tournament unique.
Unlike most sporting events, the World Cup invites casual viewers into the experience rather than excluding them. Someone who cannot explain the offside rule may still spend an afternoon celebrating goals alongside lifelong supporters.
The communal experience matters as much as the sport itself, making the quiet on campus all the more surprising — no one expected UBC to put on elaborate fan festivals. Most simply imagined something … more. More public screenings. More opportunities to gather. More visible signs that the city hosting the world's largest sporting event includes one of the country's largest universities.
Even Asbun, despite understanding the challenges posed by the summer semester, admitted she leaves campus to find the atmosphere she wants. "I'll go to the parties outside, because I know they'll be better than … just staying here," she said. Her honesty reflects the complicated reality facing UBC.
Yes, organizing major events during the summer is difficult. Yes, many students are away. Yes, soccer does not occupy the same place in Canadian culture that it does in countries like Mexico, Brazil or even certain European countries like England.
But those explanations coexist with another reality. Vancouver has demonstrated throughout the tournament that there is an appetite. Public watch parties have drawn crowds and entire neighbourhoods have embraced the celebration. UBC, meanwhile, has remained largely on the sidelines. Perhaps that is why so many students instinctively separated "Vancouver" from "UBC" during interviews.
When asked about the World Cup, they smiled as they described downtown. One man watching at Wesbrook Village said, “Vancouver has always been chill. It's beautiful, but it's always been known to be very chill. But the World Cup has just flipped it upside down.”
But when asked about campus, they paused. The distinction appeared almost every time. Almost inevitably, they would say, “I think it needs hype," or “it's not a lot going on,” or “I didn't expect UBC to do anything.” Taken individually, those comments sound like minor observations, but together, they reveal something larger.
This World Cup has exposed both the strengths and limitations of the campus community. The strengths lie with students themselves. Without waiting for official programming, they have built their own traditions; cultural clubs have organized watch parties; friends have opened their homes; and alumni have returned to celebrate with current students.
The limitation is that much of this has happened despite the university rather than because of it. But that shouldn't overshadow what students have accomplished — if anything, it highlights it. The World Cup culture that does exist at UBC has been built almost entirely from the ground up.
Not through institutional campaigns and not through large university events. But through text messages, group chats, student clubs and friends inviting one another to watch a match. And there’s something fitting about that.
The World Cup has always belonged to ordinary supporters more than institutions — living in crowded living rooms, neighbourhood bars, family traditions and spontaneous celebrations. UBC students have found ways to recreate those experiences for themselves. Still, it is difficult not to wonder what might have been possible if those efforts had been amplified rather than left largely on their own.
The FIFA World Cup will leave Vancouver soon. The fan zones will disappear, the temporary decorations will come down and BC Place will — hopefully — return to hosting Whitecaps matches and concerts.
For many students, however, the memories they carry from this tournament will not come from inside the stadium. They will remember cheering beside strangers at The Gallery and watching Canada with friends in Wesbrook Village. Taking the SkyTrain downtown after class to join thousands of supporters. Finding a little piece of home at a Mexican restaurant, surrounded by people who understand exactly why one match means so much.
In the end, perhaps that is the real story of UBC's World Cup. Not that the university lacked soccer culture. Rather, the culture existed in fragments — created not by UBC itself, but by students determined to celebrate anyway.
For a campus that proudly describes itself as one of the world's most international universities, this may be the tournament's biggest lesson. The passion was always here, and the community was here too. But for much of this World Cup, students had to build it themselves — and often leave campus to find it.
