Number Five: In March, President Trump established the 2026 FIFA World Cup Task Force, made up of the usual suspects (Pam Bondi, Tulsi Gabbard, Pete Hegseth, Kristi Noem, Kash Patel, and Marco Rubio), perhaps to reassure his followers that the gang will indeed all be there when soccer's major event is held in the United States, especially should the Trumpunks decide to use a classic soccer match to lure immigrants to an abduction party.
Meanwhile, this country seems like an ever less welcoming place for the rest of the world's favorite sport. As Washington Post columnist Sally Jenkins has pointed out, the United States may be anything but a safe haven for international athletes (not to speak of so many Americans). After all, should some foreigner get a little too fast or strong, maybe he or she could be checked for drugs, chromosomes, or challenging thoughts, and sent to a maximum security locker room.
And while we're worrying (all too justifiably) about the World Cup next year, don't forget that the U.S. will be hosting the 2028 Summer Olympic Games in Los Angeles.
Number Six: The New York Yankees are growing hair. When the team played for owner George Steinbrenner, self-ordained as "The Boss," a blustering, narcissistic bully and liar who was considered a mentor to the young Donald Trump, no moustaches, beards, or hair below the collar were allowed. The son of a shipping magnate from Cleveland, Steinbrenner postured as a standard-bearer for masculine American values. Why did working-class guys buy that?
As a New York Times sportswriter covering Steinbrenner, I was bewildered walking on the street with him when construction workers and cabbies hailed him warmly as a man of the people. They loved the way he bossed those jocks around. In retrospect, it was a portent of the authoritarian cultism around Trump -- the urge for people who feel weak or marginalized to embrace a tyrant.
George's son, Hank, a milder man who avoids the spotlight, runs the team now. His decision this year to allow Yankee players to grow hair where they pleased was generally applauded. Still, maybe George wasn't as bad as I once imagined. After all, he had only one felony conviction compared to his mentoree's 34. Steinbrenner's involved illegal contributions to Richard Nixon's presidential election campaign and, yes, President Ronald Reagan pardoned him.
The Draft
Number Seven: The opening of the NFL season is months away, but the recent draft of rookie players cracked through Trump's curtain of sound for a day or so, reinforcing pro football as America's twenty-first-century pastime. The biggest newsflash was that Shadeur Sanders, the $4-million-dollar NIL player, wasn't taken in the first round. Football executives evidently found him too brash and self-promoting, possibly overrated, and too". dare I say it?" Trumpish.
I've never forgotten that the first time I met Donald Trump, as a CBS Sunday Morning correspondent in the 1980s, he lied to me about pro football. He owned a pro team back then, the New Jersey Generals of the United States Football League (USFL), which played during the NFL's offseason. Many people thought the USFL was a conspiracy to force the NFL into a merger or to get several of its teams into the league. That would have been important to Trump, then still a minor-league real-estate magnate from Queens, pushing his dream of making it into the major leagues, the New York City market.
When I interviewed him about that, he swore such a merger wasn't on his mind. Later that week, he emerged as the principal plaintiff in an antitrust suit against the NFL. It was the kind of early lesson that people like me didn't learn. We were too smart for that buffoon, right?
Number Eight: Maybe the best that can be said about the "manosphere," that trendy Trumpian hodge-podge of websites, podcasts, online forums, and blogs promoting misogyny and the false masculinity of "bro culture," is the relatively small role sports seems to play in it. Sports, after all, initially evolved as a bastion of fair play and even its sometimes questionable interpretations of class and honor are hardly major aspects of Trumpiana.
Early on, the president touted himself as a good high school baseball player, but when his further posturing as a championship superstar was mostly ignored, he seemed to lose interest in promoting his athleticism, except in bed.
The anti-feminism of Trump's base has always been predicated on the understanding that once women achieved equality, much less equity with men, the game would be over for the mediocre male. And yet current laments about boys and men losing out to women in educational and employment competition obscure the fact that men, particularly White men, still rule the roost. Trumpy attacks on liberals often emphasize their womanly "weakness." The tough-talking handmaids in the president's cabinet are borderline cartoonish.
As it turns out, one of the most consistent opponents of Trumpian antifeminism is 60-year-old former football player and long-time activist Jackson Katz. He's sounded his particular call to action in a book, Every Man: Why Violence Against Women Is a Men's Issue.
He recently told Ammar Kalia of the Guardian: "We can't tell boys that bullying is bad and then equally reward bullies like Trump in power. There's a lot of fear in the face of a rightwing populist government, but we need men to loudly oppose him, otherwise real people will be harmed. We're living in a different world now and it's urgent."
It's urgent indeed and this has been enough of a distraction. So, suit up and get your game face on. Do something. Donald Trump is beatable if you keep your eye on the ball and don't pull your punches.
Copyright 2025 Robert Lipsyte
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