Five hours at Philly’s FIFA Fan Festival in the sweltering heat

When organizers announced two years ago that Philly’s FIFA Fan Festival site for the World Cup would be at Lemon Hill, many Philadelphians responded with a collective: Huh?

Located between the Philadelphia Museum of Art and Girard Avenue, the grassy site in East Fairmount Park hasn’t hosted many big public gatherings, though it was the staging and undressing area for the Philly Naked Bike Ride in 2022.

In my many years in Philly, I’d never covered an event at the site — and I’d never been to a FIFA Fan Fest either, which features live broadcasts of the games, entertainment, vendors, and soccer-related activities. So I went on Thursday, the opening day of the 39-day festival, to bring a minute-by-minute report of what I experienced to you.

I knew the journey wouldn’t be easy. Not only were temps forecast to be in the mid-90s (with heat indexes over 100 and a heat health emergency in place), you can’t drive to the site, or get close with ride share apps. Roads around the venue are closed and street parking has been restricted to neighborhood residents.

To get to the event, the city is urging guests to take the Philly PHLASH bus, take SEPTA’s bus routes 32 or 48, use a bicycle, or walk. I chose the latter.

I begin my journey at LOVE Park, where I see a group of five friends in their team Mexico jerseys — and a sixth in a white T-shirt and sombrero — getting their photo taken with the LOVE statute.

Alexis Arellano, 29, tells me they’ve come from Atlantic City to catch the Mexico v. South Africa game at the FIFA Fan Festival.

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You’ve got to take advantage of everything they got going on. It’s in our backyard,” he said.

I stop into the pop-up Philadelphia Visitor Center hospitality hub at the park. The space is tiny, but the air-conditioning feels like silk sheets on my sweaty skin. I strongly consider buying the $14 portable fan that sprays wooder at your face and ponder at a bucket hat that reads: “Freedom has a Philly accent.”

I head over to the public bathroom trailer that’s temporarily been installed in LOVE Park in front of the circular building known as flying saucer.

“What a waste,” I think, as I look up at the very cool saucer, which remains closed and empty, despite a call-out last year from the city for ideas to reactivate the space in time for the World Cup and the Semiquincentennial.

I step inside the bathroom trailer. Not only is it air-conditioned, it’s outdoor-wedding-quality nice. Next to the trailer is a sink of water fountains and water bottle-filling stations.

After making my way down the Ben Franklin Parkway, I spot another, larger hospitality hub across from Eakins Oval. This one has several large boards in front of it you can stick your face into to get a photo with Gritty, Rocky, or Patti LaBelle.

When I step inside the hub, I almost weep tears of joy because it’s so cold. It has much of the same items as the other, but with more Rocky merchandise (“Yo, Adrienne! Buy my stuff!”).

Outside of the hub, I meet Valentine Emeré, 20, and his parents, who are on holiday from France and had no idea the World Cup was in town. They’re in Philly as part of an East Coast tour of the U.S.

“It’s a very good city, it’s a living city,” Emeré tells me when I ask his thoughts on Philly. “We really like how many things there are to do.”

I arrive at the FIFA Fan Fest welcome center tent. Aside from the oppressive heat, the walk was easier than I expected. I pass the Philly Phestival Marketplace, a row of vendors selling everything from nail polish to onesies that read “baby jawn.”

At the Glitterbrush Facepainting booth, I chat up Martiza Quendo of North Philly, who wore a team Mexico shirt, and Marissa DeMatteo of South Philly, who was repping team USA. They’d just had their faces painted and told me they came to Fan Fest because they love free merch and “participating in Philly.” Mostly they were there for the live Luis Fonsi concert after the Mexico vs. South Africa game.

As several hundred people wait in line for the gates to open, visitors pose for pictures in front of a large soccer ball surrounded by fresh flowers, a photo-op that looks straight out of the Philadelphia Flower show. An enterprising street vendor nearby tries, without success, to sell umbrella hats.

“You think business would be better in this heat,” he says.

Gates open to the festival, a little behind schedule, but folks get in calmly, quickly, and with little trouble. Some come in singing, others run in waving Mexican flags. My colleague, photographer Jose Moreno, later shows me pictures of Mayor Cherelle L. Parker walking in with the crowds.

I stop by the Home Depot activation, billed as “Beckham’s Backyard,” which features the facade of a home with a 12-foot-skeleton in front of it. An employee tells me this mimics a backyard with Beckham’s flair.

“He’s not here though, right?” I ask.

“I wish. This would be a lot more popular if he was,” he said.

Inside, there is a giant Home Depot bucket with a TV screen inside showing games. The nearby Casamingos stand selling margaritas for $17 appears to be far more popular.

I ask an employee manning the Bank of America activation why the line there is so long. He tells me they’re letting people make their own bracelets — with very cool Philly and World Cup charms — for free.

At the Visit PA pavilion, the lines for the free prize wheel and claw machines — which dole out Visit PA-branded merch — were very long.

But nobody was at the “Soccer Jawn” video game, which pits two players head-to-head in a Pong-like game of soccer on a big screen. I yell to a young woman passing by to battle me and she accepts my challenge.

Biance Yetta, 16, of Easton, beats me 5-4. In my defense, she plays soccer on a traveling team and I’ve never played before in my life (though I’ve probably played way more Pong).

A message plays on the 60-foot-wide main screen of the festival from astronauts aboard the International Space Station. I’m too far away to hear everything they say, but I can make out the words: “Sharing one planet, one game,” and that makes me smile.

I walk into the massive FIFA Fan Fest store, which is so well air-conditioned I almost fall to my knees and thank the gods of consumerism.

I browse for a bit, but when I check the price of a FIFA cropped women’s sweatshirt — $104.99 — I walk right back out.

The national anthem of South Africa begins and crowds gather around the big screen. Folks try to hide under what little shade is available, but most of us are forced to swelter in the sun.

Shortly thereafter, the Mexico national anthem plays and many in the crowd — which now numbers in the thousands and is mostly team Mexico fans — sing along.

It feels electric being in the middle of them and watching the game begin, but I have more of the festival to explore.

I approach what looks like a nice little area called “The Orchard” and am immediately stopped by a security guard. I’m informed it’s a VIP-only area for sponsors (enjoy the perks, 12-foot Home Depot skeleton).

Next to it was another public viewing area with a smaller screen showing the game. This one had picnic tables under shade (huzzah!). Nearby was a food area with booths selling street corn, cheesesteaks, and churros — none of which sounded appetizing in 94-degree heat. I’d spotted a single water ice stand at another food vendor area across the way earlier, but the line was 42 people deep and there was one guy working the booth.

I spot a woman in a Phamassador T-shirt, the Visitors Center program that’s recruited 10,000 volunteers to be ambassadors of Philly this summer.

Ruth Bangura, 19, tells me she’s a Philly transplant who’s “obsessed” with the city and wants to help others become obsessed, too. Despite the heat, she’s loving the “good energy” at Fan Fest and loves seeing people waving flags of all colors coming together.

“Everyone is different but at the same time, we’re all here for one game. This is the best thing that could ever happen to the United States right now,” she says. “This is the melting pot, this is what America is supposed to be instead of differentiating each other and dividing each other.”

As I walk by an American Heart Association tent filled with CPR dummies, staffer Jennifer Russ asks if I want to learn CPR. She teaches me chest-compression as music that’s 100-to-120 beats per minute plays in the background. Like “Staying Alive,” these are songs you should time chest compressions to.

Russ’ manager tells me they’re on site because CPR is a skill they want people from all over the world to learn.

“And, honestly, sports is one of the main places cardiac arrests happen,” she says. “So this is great because it’s just such a big footprint.”

Back at the big screen showing the game, I introduce myself to Mla Mhlongo, 34, a native of South Africa now living in Claymont, Del., who came to support his national team. He tells me that when the World Cup was in South Africa in 2010, they showed all the games at outdoor parks, so Fan Fest feels like a small tase of home.

“I’m enjoying the game with a lot of people; I’ve taken a lot of pictures with people from Mexico and people from around the world,” he says. “The World Cup is supposed to unite the world and it does that.”

An Eagles chant breaks out in the crowd.

I need to find shade. I head to one of the misting tents with fans, but the mist evaporates before it even reaches me.

Once I cool down a little, I realize how hungry I am. I consider a jerk chicken wrap, until I realize it’s $24. I settle on a hot dog and soda for $14. I try to pay with cash and am told everything is card-only.

As I sit to eat in the shade near the smaller screen, I realize that hardly a single person is on their phone. They’re tuned into the game or each other and I think about how nice — and rare — that is.

I try my hand at the Philadelphia Union’s activations, which test your soccer shooting and passing skills by having you kick balls at a series of blinking lights. They’re fun — and one of the few activations that doesn’t require you to scan a QR code. I fail miserably at both games, at one point kicking the ball into the crowd outside the tent.

The match on the big screen ends and fans of Mexico cheer their team’s win. People make their way to the stage under the screen for the Luis Fonsi concert. I spot the two facepainted Philly ladies I talked to earlier right up against the stage barrier.

Fonsi takes the stage. A woman with a man in a Mexican wrestling mask, both of whom are wearing Mexican flags as capes, dance in front of me. I see a mom and daughter singing together in Spanish and a man dancing through the crowd, his arms raised. Everyone is happy and smiling.

I leave early to beat the crowds and walk back. On my way out, I see a man at a picnic bench reading Booked by Kwame Alexander. He tells me the American Federation of Teachers is giving books away for free at the Philly Phestival Marketplace. I stop by the booth and talk with Leslie Kelsch, deputy director of communications for the federation.

“We launched the Summer Reading Cup and we’re giving away thousands and thousands of soccer-themed books this summer to get kids excited about reading,” she tells me.

Just outside the fest, I see a sign for the “LOVE Park shuttle” and a row of four school buses. A driver tells me they’re giving free rides back to LOVE Park after the fest. It’s a wonderful service, but the buses don’t have air-conditioning and the first one isn’t anywhere near full yet, so I decide to continue on foot.

Walking along the Parkway, I think about all the events I’ve covered there — the good and the bad, the celebrations and the protests — and I look at all the nationality flags waving in the warm breeze.

I’ve had conversations with many people over the last few months who find it very hard — if not impossible — to consider celebrating anything amid the current climate of our country. But when you attend one of these events in Philly that brings people from all over the world together, you get something you don’t get when you sit at home and watch all the horrors of the news.

You realize how much people want to connect with one another, and how easily we still do, when we choose to.