World Cup diary 5: SE-NE-GAL, SE-NE-GAL

As the ball rolled past Wojciech Szczesny (limbs frozen, body toppling over, eyes beginning to roll; the unmistakable pose of the wrong-footed keeper) into the net, three distant pockets of Spartak Stadium began to celebrate. The first, facing the Senegal bench, was the most understated, a ripple of green, a hiccup of joy amid a sea of Polish glumness. The second was in the opposite corner of the stadium, bigger, brighter, louder, led by a group of seven topless men, one letter painted on each of their chests: S-E-N-E-G-A-L. The third was at the press tables, almost two full rows of Senegalese media leaping up to cheer, all of them wearing identical blue outfits, “Senegal Presse” written in bright, white capital letters on the back of their polo shirts.

If the World Cup is good for anything — and it seems increasingly like it is bad for everything — it is surely good for cracking the shell of media neutrality. And indeed there is something very charming about watching a dozen reporters celebrate openly in the stands, chant their country’s name at the final whistle; about listening, later in the day, to the local Russian TV commentator during his country’s game against Egypt, laughing, as Artem Dzyuba put them 3-0 up, at the implausibility of Russia, ranked 70th in the world by FIFA, so widely derided in the lead-up to their own tournament, having scored eight goals in only two matches. Denis Cheryshev, who has scored three of them, was for that one night level with Cristiano Ronaldo as the tournament’s top scorer. Why not laugh?

FIFA likes to talk about how the World Cup brings people together, which of course it literally does. Hours before kickoff, clusters of Poland fans sang and danced around Red Square, everyone else happy to give them their day, their moment, taking pictures, smiling. Outside the stadium, Polish fans sought out what few of their Senegalese counterparts they could find, eager to take pictures together. A group of Australians chanted Sadio Mane’s name as they approached the stadium. Some Chinese fans marveled at his first touch after the game began. Here, as promised, was the world, all together. What’s less clear is whether this togetherness is anything more than a sort of endearing, temporary novelty.

Next: The best player on every team at the World Cup

Against Poland, the Senegal team became the first from CAF to record a win at this World Cup. As is customary when an African side are successful on this stage, the success was quickly shared around the entire continent. Even Senegal’s manager, Aliou Cisse, said his side represented “the whole of Africa.” This felt especially true in that stadium, which may as well have been in Warsaw, such was the strength of Polish support. Their fans went so far as to applaud politely during the Senegalese anthem, a classy gesture, and yet somehow also almost condescending: Here, we will make your noise for you, who don’t have the luxury of a two-hour flight home.

It felt more, I don’t know, real listening to Poland’s fans grow frustrated in the second half — groaning at mistakes, grumbling as Senegal’s defense held strong — and then briefly hopeful as Grzegorz Krychowiak gave them a lifeline late on.

There were whistles at full-time, as Poland’s players walked around the stadium, dutifully clapping their traveling fans, as Robert Lewandowski walked miserably to the side of the pitch, over the advertising hoardings, right up to the stands, where he was consoled by a long, sad kiss from his wife. And off to his left a chant beginning: SE-NE-GAL, SE-NE-GAL, SE-NE-GAL.