La Liberté éclairant le monde, Liberty Enlightening the World

By Quan | 03 September 2026 | 7 min read

The Ligue 1 Striker Chose a Home Where the Light Shone Brightest

With news of Folarin Balogun's cancelled move to Everton, I thought back to my time in the Pacific Northwest enjoying a crème brûlée cruffin at Farine Bakery and Café. USMNT (U.S. Men's National Team) was poised to play Belgium in the Round of 16 of the 2026 World Cup and I came to see the match. Coincidentally, the owner of Farine, Olivier Dispas, hails from Belgium.

Back in downtown Seattle, the area was bustling for match day. On my walk along the shoreline I heard so many people speaking French. It was a bit disorienting at first until I saw all of the red jerseys. The Belgium fans had arrived.

FC2604_1080x1350_Croissant-Crawl-Seattle_cruffin-01

World Cup 2026: USA vs Belgium

Yours truly giving hot takes to the Athletic

Unlike SoFi Stadium (Los Angeles) and Levi's Stadium (Santa Clara), which are cordoned off or outside of the city, Lumen Field (Seattle Stadium) is right in the heart of the city, creating a walkable, raucous atmosphere. Seattle being one of the top soccer cities in the U.S. made it my number one destination to catch a World Cup match as well. It's one thing to root for your team, but rooting for your nation on home soil is just something else.

Understandably, the buzz that morning was around Folarin Balogun, the U.S. striker whose questionable red card was surprisingly overturned by FIFA and involvement of the President.

While checking out the American Outlaws match day event, a reporter from the Athletic interviewed me on my thoughts. So I gave them some hot takes, nothing mealy-mouth from yours truly. I told them I was biased, that I loved that he would play. It was a bad call and made right for the moment. I'm all for the journalists getting views so they chopped up my sound bites to get this side of the coin.

People took whatever way they wanted from it (here are your pearls to clutch), but I will never forget Tim Howard's performance in 2014 against Belgium. I wanted revenge and we needed Balogun. Heck, we needed prime Maradona, Zisou, Ronaldo ... anyone at all to get past the Belgians.

The Free Flo banners were running rampant that morning and you'd be hard pressed to find any USMNT supporters who thought he should not play. The crowd sang Take Me Home, Country Roads, planes flew over after the national anthem and the largest tv audience to ever watch soccer in America tuned in.

Leading up to what was the biggest game for U.S. men's soccer history, Folarin's story about choosing to play for the U.S. gained more traction. In his first World Cup match he became the first multi-goal scorer for the U.S. since 1930 and his play catapulted the team through group play and the first knockout round.

A few years ago, my friends celebrated the decision Folarin Balogun made to play for the U.S. Men’s team. For most who have heard the soft spoken striker speak, it’s a bit of a shock the first time. People born in Brooklyn usually don’t say they want a bo’ohw’o’wo’er when parched.

It’s because he grew up in London. His mom was seven months pregnant while visiting family in NY and the airlines deemed her a risk to fly home to the U.K. So she stayed back and had him in the States.

Folarin originally had 3 choices when choosing which country to play for. England, America, and Nigeria, where his parents are from. His mother, Florence, said long before Folarin made the decision she had made up her mind. When he shared the news with family she was over the moon he said. Balogun explained it was one made from the heart and that he felt at home.

Watching Folarin Balogun play in Ligue 1 at AS Monaco

Earlier in the year, I went to watch Folarin play in Ligue 1 as he was AS Monaco's striker. On the final day of Carnival in Nice, I took a side trip to Monaco to watch him play against Angers SCO at Louis Stade II. He was in the midst of what became an 8 match scoring streak and netted a goal that evening. A humble crowd of 5100 were on hand. This was definitely not like attending a Paris Saint-Germain match. At half I snickered at the site of port o potties inside the stadium next to the bathrooms as fans started lighting up cigarettes in the halls.

I'll revisit my impressions of attending the match another time, but I left a little early to catch the train back to Nice to see the end of Carnival. When I got to the train station the doors were locked.

Everyone was baffled. Outside the train station was a phone attached to a wall that was for assistance. I picked it up and an operator on the other end didn't know why the trains were stopped, but she could call a taxi if needed. A gentleman and his son next to me were completely lost and did not speak French nor English. They only spoke Spanish. I was able to figure out that they were staying in a nearby town and since the trains were down they didn't know how to get back. I talked to the operator in French and managed to get them a taxi back. Score one for learning French.

As for my predicament, I didn't want to shell out for a taxi all the way to Nice so she told me there was one last bus, but I would have to catch it at Barclays bank. For whatever reason, the cell service in Monaco is absolutely putrid. Google maps barely works at times. I asked her where Barclays bank was since there could be several. She said there was only one and didn't know the address at hand. I thanked her and managed to find a Barclays on my phone when I got cell reception. Hopefully it was the right one. So I hauled on it on foot and weaved my way through Monaco's quiet evening streets for an impromptu ten minute training session.

There was a line of people outside the doors of the building once I got there. This had to be the stop. Thirty seconds later a bus pulled up. I was never happier to be seated on one. As the bus meandered along the windy road along the Cote d'Azur, I found news of an obstruction causing the trains to be delayed both ways on the tracks that evening. I showed the bus driver on my way out. He nodded his head. It happens.

On the Quai des États Unis at Opera Beach, the locals hauled the giant paper mache King of the carnival, a satirical figure embodying issues and figures of the day, to burn. It’s to denote the end of the festival, of winter, a squashing of social tensions, and a renewal for everyone there.

I stood amongst the thousands and watched the fire on the beach and then the fireworks in the sky over the Bay of Angels.

La Liberté éclairant la plage

The next morning I came back out to the same area to watch the morning's events, a cold swim at the same beach in front of the Opera House, the Grand Carnival Swim.

While walking along the bay I noticed a replica of the Statue of Liberty there on the pathway. It was installed for the 100th anniversary of WWI, a reminder of the relationship between France and the U.S.

In French, Lady Liberty is also known as La Liberté éclairant le monde. Liberty Enlightening the World. Thinking back on it, I wondered about why Folarin's mother had hoped for his son to choose to play for the U.S., despite not having grown up there. But when you saw the lack of a true 9 (striker) for the U.S. and the glut of talent in his other choices, England and Nigeria, you could see where the light shone brightest for him.

It was funny that a few months later I'd be watching Balogun playing back in the U.S. as his story was making headlines from everything about birthright citizenship to the red card controversy. The soft spoken striker handled it with immense grace and class. It was evident after Belgium's coach, Rudi Garcia, praised him after Belgium's 4-1 victory, after viciously ripping FIFA before the match.

Balogun was a bright spot for his country's disappointing end. His light shone brighter after his play in the tournament, spurring rumors about going to various teams in the Premier League as well as the defending Champions League and Ligue 1 darlings, Paris Saint-Germain.

As for Belgium, I'm sure the owner of Farine enjoyed the outcome that evening. Before the match began, a fellow countryman of his was asked on the big screen what his predicted score of the outcome would be. 4 to 1 Belgium, he said. It was prescient.

While the bitter taste of the loss lingered on, my memory of the crème brûlée cruffin helped round out the flavor from the trip.

See you in four years.