Well, of all the things in life that I never expected to be on my life’s Bingo card, yesterday’s amazing experience was definitely not on it.

If you've followed us for a while, you'll know that we were those people who HATED sports. We’re artists, so the artists-versus-athletes mindset has always been a part of who we are. Surprisingly, that changed when we found ourselves watching two popular sports-themed TV shows in tandem.

Somewhere in the middle of those shows, something shifted.

We realized there was so much more to sports than just the games on TV. There are real athletes. Real sacrifice. Real stories. A lot of hard work behind “just” what you see on TV. In that sense, we could mentally connect and appreciate the work behind the personalities on screen.

In the summer of 2024, we found ourselves going with friends to watch a local match in Frisco, Texas. Next thing we knew, Chris and I were purchasing season tickets for our local team (what-the-what?!).

Attending games quickly became something we looked forward to each week — whether in person (our favorite), or watching on TV. When it came time for renewal, we gladly hopped right back on the “let’s renew our season tickets” train.

Around that same time, we realized this huge international soccer event was going to happen practically in our backyard.

What we didn’t realize was just how HARD it would be to get tickets.

Starting in 2025, we entered every official lottery for the opportunity to purchase tickets (because no, it wasn’t a lottery for free tickets).

Every round, we entered.

Every round, we lost.

Rinse and repeat.

Then came the actual ticket sale.

I logged in before tickets went live and found myself staring at an EIGHT HOUR (?!?!?!) virtual queue.

Eight hours.

I spent the day with a friend and was constantly glued to my phone (sorry, Leslie!) making sure I didn’t miss my turn.

And after all that?

By the time my chance finally came up, every Dallas-area match was sold out.

Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I was sad, angry, frustrated, disappointed — cue ALLLLLLL the emotions!

Eventually, after all the ups and downs, I settled into the mindset that it just wasn’t going to happen for us.

And I moved on.

That is until...

Our ticket rep for our local team reached out and asked if we’d be interested in entering their official lottery to win tickets to a group stage match.

A limited number of tickets had been made available to season ticket members, so they hosted their own lottery.

Group stage matches are exactly what they sound like. Each country is put into a group of four and assigned a letter of the alphabet. Then they all compete against one another to determine who advances to the next stage (Round of 32).

Dallas is host to several group-stage matches:

• Netherlands vs Japan
• England vs Croatia
• Argentina vs Austria
• Japan vs Sweden
• Jordan vs Argentina

Of those matches, I was most interested in England vs. Croatia or Netherlands vs. Japan.

For me, it always comes back to the story.

The “why.”

Why these teams?

Well, I lived in England during college. One of my biggest regrets from that time was never going to see a match.

I actually lived near Manchester... while a famous player was playing for the local club.

I could have gone.

I never did.

Seeing England play now felt like a weird second chance — a chance to step into the energy English football fans are known for and redeem one of those small life regrets.

And then there was Croatia.

This game would feature our local striker playing for Team Croatia.

That alone made this feel special.

Our player on the world stage, in his adopted hometown.

And this wasn’t just any match.

England and Croatia have history.

Ever since Croatia knocked England out of the 2018 semifinal, there’s been unfinished business between these teams. England wanted redemption. Croatia wanted to prove it wasn’t a fluke.

Two proud football nations.

Two talented squads.

One of the most anticipated group-stage matchups of the entire tournament.

The Netherlands game would have been fun too.

My dad’s entire side of the family is Dutch. My great-grandfather, Tjeerd Van Der Zee, came over from the Netherlands, and I grew up in a small Dutch farming town in Michigan.

So seeing the Netherlands would have been a nod to my heritage.

When it came time to choose our preferred matches, I checked basically all of them.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

At that point, just being able to say I went to one of the big matches would have been enough.

Well...

We didn’t win.

Surprise, surprise.

Honestly? At that point, I wasn’t even shocked anymore.

A little bummed, yes.

But shocked? No.

Then the next day, our local team held a second drawing for winners from round one who decided they didn’t want their tickets after all.

And somehow...

We won.

Not only did we win —

we won the opportunity to purchase tickets for England vs. Croatia!

THE match I wanted most.

They were nosebleed seats, but we did not care.

Not even a little.

The entire last year of trying, waiting, losing, and hoping just vanished.

We had tickets.

Yesterday was finally our day at the Dallas Stadium match.

Waiting for it while watching all the earlier games almost felt like hearing your number being called.

It was our turn.

Finally.

Chris and I got jerseys for the match — him repping Croatia, me repping England.

We wanted to get there early, so we left our house a little before 10 AM and arrived before the parking lot opened.

The match was at 3 PM.

The stadium opened at noon.

Parking opened at 11.

We got there just before parking opened, so when the gates finally lifted, we had the entire lot to choose from.

That felt like a win in itself.

But then we had to wait.

An hour.

Outside.

In Texas.

In June.

It was HOTTER THAN BLAZES.

Standing on pavement.

Fortunately, rogue clouds and a random breeze gave us brief moments of mercy.

I’m glad we got there when we did though, because that line got LONG fast.

And the people-watching?

Superb.

Everyone was decked out in jerseys, flags, painted faces, wild hats — fully committed.

Some were repping the teams playing.

Others wore colors for teams playing elsewhere that day.

It felt like the whole world had gathered in one place. Because in a sense, it had!

We even spotted a sniper on top of the stadium.

I’ve never seen that before.

Oddly enough, it made me feel safer.

There’s a lot of crazy in the world right now, and knowing there were people there protecting us felt reassuring.

Because of where we were in line, security only took a few minutes.

The second we got inside, we made a beeline for the official store.

Smart move.

That line quickly wrapped around and eventually out the door.

Again.

Back into the heat.

Gross.

Next: drinks.

We both got sports drinks.

Then Chris spotted frozen margaritas.

And naturally, I immediately got one.

It tasted AMAZING.

Granted, I hadn’t eaten since 5 AM and it was now after noon, so maybe I got a little giggly and happy-go-lucky.

But I prefer to think of it as adding flair to the day.

We then took what felt like seventeen escalators to the very top of the stadium.

Did I mention I’ve developed a fear of heights as I’ve gotten older?

Because I have.

And by the last escalator, vertigo had entered the chat.

Helpful tip: don’t look down on an escalator if heights freak you out. My mistake.

Well, that fear was about to intensify.

The second we found our seats and walked into our section, my legs nearly froze.

The steps were SO steep.

Like... absurdly steep. (Fun fact: as I was typing this, I asked Grok how steep the angles were in that section and it turns out they're 45-degrees! Yikes!)

I had to stare directly at my feet while climbing.

The rows were narrow.

The incline was intense.

There was basically no visual buffer between us and the rows below.

It felt like one wrong move and your brain immediately jumped to “well, this is how I die.”

Thank goodness for that margarita.

It became my emotional support beverage.

Then the game began.

And honestly?

I think my favorite part was when they brought both flags onto the field and unfurled them while the referees and teams walked out.

Over 70,000 people.

The entire stadium alive with energy.

Then both national anthems.

And hearing the England fans — thousands upon thousands of them — singing at full volume under that dome?

Goosebumps.

Absolute goosebumps.

And the game itself?

Everything you’d want.

Fast.

Physical.

Tense.

England and Croatia have played meaningful matches before, and you could feel that history on the field.

England struck first.

Then Croatia answered.

England scored again.

Then in the final minute before halftime, Petar Musa scored the equalizer.

His first goal in this tournament. In his first appearance on this stage.

On his adopted home turf.

In front of so many local fans.

That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever witnessed. The emotion on his face said it all.

The second half stayed electric.

England came out strong and scored twice more to pull ahead for good.

When they scored, the roar from their fans was unreal.

Their chants were next-level.

The energy in that stadium felt electric.

The match stayed tight and competitive the entire way — back-and-forth until the final whistle.

Exactly the kind of high-stakes international match you dream about seeing live.

As someone who is an empath, I loved that both teams scored.

My short, impromptu bucket list for the day was simple:

• Petar Musa scores on home turf
• England wins

And somehow...

both happened.

When the match was over, there was this strange mix of sadness and gratitude.

Sad that it was over.

Grateful that we got to experience it at all.

And hearing the fans sing two classic sing-along songs afterward?

That’s something I’ll never forget.

To someone who wasn’t there, it probably sounds like I’ve lost my mind.

But in that moment?

It was everything.

And the Netherlands? Well, I did get to see the Dutch Oranjebus after all. :)