There’s devotion, and then there’s what 72-year-old Bangladeshi farmer Amjad Hossain has done to his land in the southern district of Magura. He’s transformed his fields into a 7.5 kilometre-long German flag—a meandering black, red, and yellow banner so massive it would be visible from space. And he’s never even been to Germany.
Hossain’s story begins with gratitude. Back in 2004 and 2005, a German medicine saved his life when he was seriously ill. That debt of gratitude evolved into something far bigger: an all-consuming love for Germany and its football team. When Germany hosted the 2006 World Cup, he commissioned his first flag at 1.5 kilometres long. Since then, for every tournament, he’s extended it further—sometimes selling parts of his land to afford the cloth. When people call him crazy, Hossain doesn’t flinch. His wife and family have never objected, and his dream remains simple: to watch the four-time world champions play in person one day.
Hossain’s not alone in his World Cup mania, though others express it differently. Adidas literally ran out of the letter “V” on German replica kits after fans rushed to buy shirts bearing the names of stars like Kai Havertz, Deniz Undav, and Aleksandar Pavlovic. Then there’s Mexico’s unofficial mascot: a duck named Merlin who became an instant sensation after a video of him walking down the street in a Mexican jersey went viral. TV stations have been clamoring for his expert analysis of games—which, so far, has remained admirably consistent: “Quack, quack, quack.”
But not all World Cup drama is wholesome. A Mexican mayor named Nancy Napoles is under suspicion of faking her own kidnapping to cover up $2.3 million in missing public money. Police say her husband and brother-in-law staged the “fake abduction” to raise ransom funds to make up for embezzled cash. Three of the alleged “kidnappers” have been arrested; the other two remain on the run. Napoles claims innocence and says the case has been “politicised.”
Meanwhile, France hosted a rare top-class sumo tournament this week—and took extraordinary precautions. The Paris venue’s toilets were specially reinforced to handle wrestlers weighing up to 160 kilos (25 stones, 352 pounds). That’s the kind of forward-thinking infrastructure that prevents disasters.
In perhaps the most absurd footnote to modern fandom, a “dinosaur” leather handbag made from T-Rex cells grown in a lab—sourced from collagen taken from a dinosaur leg found in Montana 25 years ago—was withdrawn from a Paris auction after failing to fetch its $500,000 asking price. Bidders could only muster just over $150,000 for the one-of-a-kind piece. Even vintage fashion has its limits, it seems.
