The FIFA Club World Cup final at MetLife Stadium has raised the bar for football extravaganzas, and by “raised,” we mean absurdly inflated.
If you were hoping for a quaint football match, think again. The event was draped in American flair, more politicized than a presidential debate, leaving us feeling like we attended a carnival rather than a sports final.
Amidst the chaotic spectacle, one player, the unassuming Cole Palmer, emerged as the unlikely hero, opting to steal the limelight despite the circus surrounding him.
Time: The Great Divider
Every good party has a chronic overstay, and this one was no exception. The pre-match ceremony, coupled with a half-time show that felt less like a break and more like a marathon, stretched the evening beyond belief.
Here’s how the evening unfolded, for anyone with insomnia:
- 8:08 PM BST; 3:08 PM ET: The match kicks off nine minutes late (a new record for ‘time is a social construct’).
- 8:59 PM: Half-time. This is when you go grab a snack—if you can still move.
- 9:23 PM: The second half begins, finally! Or is that just a mirage?
- 10:14 PM: Full-time. Time to take a collective breath.
- 10:43 PM: Trophy presentation begins. Are we still here? Yes, we are.
- 10:58 PM: Chelsea lifts the trophy. Maybe time travel is possible after all.
Trump: The Ultimate Half-Time Show
The boos that greeted former President Donald Trump as he graced the big screen were more enthusiastic than a toddler at a candy store. But when he strutted onto the pitch for the trophy presentation, the sound system got a real workout.
Trump booed loudly as he takes the stage for the Club World Cup trophy presentation pic.twitter.com/bNSIhtc8nk
— Henry Bushnell (@HenryBushnell) July 13, 2025
In an amusing couple of minutes that looked less like a trophy presentation and more like an awkward family reunion, Trump attempted to channel enthusiasm about football, describing it as a ‘growing sport’—you know, along with TikTok and avocado toast.
Trump’s Trophy Grab: An Event of Unprecedented Confusion
In what was an unexpected plot twist, Trump lingered on stage as Chelsea captain Reece James awaited his moment of glory. You could practically hear the collective “Um, what’s happening?” from the players.
Palmer, visibly perplexed, threw his arm up in exasperation, while James seemed to inquire if Trump had any plans to vacate the premises. Surely this wasn’t in the instruction manual on ‘How to Present Trophies 101.’ After some hasty nudging from UEFA’s Gianni Infantino, Trump finally waddled off-stage, waving his hand like a state fair prize wins.
Cole Palmer, the Voice of Reason
Amidst the madness, Cole Palmer emerged—unfazed. When asked about his impressive finals record, he nonchalantly stated, “I like finals.” A true philosophical giant, he succinctly encapsulated a feeling we all share: just keep it simple.
Then, rather refreshingly, he added, “Everyone’s talked a lot of s*** about us all season, but we’re going in the right direction.” Wise words for a world in disarray.
Robbie Williams: Singing for Mental Clarity
As if the occasion weren’t bizarre enough, Robbie Williams took the stage in a gold-tinted tracksuit that looked like it had been borrowed from a disco ball. He serenaded us with an anthem designed for the tournament, featuring some of the most cringe-inducing lyrics ever penned:
“You’ve got the ball and you’re driven by desire. Aim high, fly by, destiny’s in front of you.” Who knew football could be so… poetic? The crowd, thankfully, seemed to appreciate the spectacle, singing along much to our bewilderment.
Medals for All: Even Trump Gets One
The undeniable bond between Trump and Infantino grew ever tighter as the latter decided to present him with a winner’s medal—because why not? In a world where medal-winners are typically celebrated athletes, here we have the former President grinding out an acceptance in the spirit of ‘everybody wins.’
Instigators and Scuffles
To cap off the evening, tensions spilled over as PSG’s Luis Enrique engaged in what looked like a friendly slap fight with Chelsea’s Joao Pedro. A post-match scuffle erupted, suggesting that the real competition was who could out-drama the other.
And so, as the dust settles and our heads clear from the absurdity of it all, we leave with one lingering thought: The next football extravaganza promises to be even more surreal. Hold onto your metaphorical seats!
