Greg Abbott, the governor of Texas, has just finished a 25-minute address and most of the hits have been played. The radical Democrats must be destroyed in November’s midterms; an Austin-style woke agenda should be avoided at all costs; it is essential the Lone Star State remains the most conservative in the US. He has provided ample fodder for about 5,000 delegates but, as the applause subsides, they have a more weighty subject matter to absorb.
There is an elephant in the room. A real live elephant in the form of Paige, who is wearing a white cloak bearing the slogan “Unity drives victory”. It has long been an in-joke at the Texas Republican party convention that, one day, a pachydermal visitor might drop in; the animal has been a symbol of the GOP for 150 years. Now, at the George R. Brown Convention Center on Friday afternoon, the fantasy has been made flesh. To intakes of breath, Paige is led up the vast conference hall’s central aisle, taking a break halfway up. The exit is 100 metres away but will have to wait; unfortunately for those who have rushed to marvel at her, it turns out Paige needs to urinate.
Houston is making its debut as a World Cup host city but, in this bubble of largely hard-line activists drawn from some of the state’s furthest corners, football’s proximity is largely viewed as an irrelevance. “You won’t find soccer fans here, we’re here for business,” says Jo, who has travelled from Dallas and wears a sequin-heavy stars and stripes dress. “I don’t mind it, but I’m not remotely into it.”
The next morning they are back at George R Brown Convention Centre to do it all again. They walk through the doors past children, no older than nine or 10, who wear T-shirts emblazoned with “Make abolishing abortion our number one legislative priority.” The youngsters hand out fliers and then, inside the hall, comes the daylong process of refining the party’s proposed platform for the next election cycle. Texas has been in a vice-like Republican grip for more than three decades but the past year has been fraught with infighting; the congress is peppered with pleas for unity and Abbott’s rare presence among these grassroots representatives is viewed as an endorsement of its shift further right.
Michael, from the town of Abilene, six hours’ drive away, steps out of the room during a particularly heated discussion about the wording of the party’s abortion policy. Someone has just suggested men recuse themselves from any vote regarding amendments. “It’s getting a little contentious in there,” he says, understatedly. The World Cup has barely reached his radar, although he is aware of the USA’s 4-1 win against Paraguay the previous night. It is unclear whether Houston or Dallas will make a profit from host city-status and he is concerned about any impact on public finances.
“I think there’s a whole lot of money in soccer and they should pay their own way,” he says. “We, the taxpayer, shouldn’t be shouldering the burden.” Michael is wearing a ‘MAGA 2024’ cap. Does he feel comfortable with Donald Trump’s appropriation of a tournament that will touch few in the Texas GOP? “It’s just what he does, he’s a bit of a showman,” he laughs. A man wearing a Stetson and leather waistcoat, a large knife sheathed by his left hip, walks past as he speaks.
As the session breaks for lunch, Steve, who is sporting a “Defend Texas, Defeat Sharia” badge, admits he feels the future is precarious. “I’m scared about the midterms,” he says. “If we lose the House and Senate, our president’s not going to be effective any more.” He embarks upon an analysis of the United Kingdom’s immigration challenges that would not pass a fact check. Maybe he will find a new interest this summer. “Because of the World Cup we watched it last night,” he says. “It was fun. It’s a long time since I last watched soccer.”
Perhaps a current of enthusiasm can be mustered here, after all. “I think it’s awesome, I really wanted to go,” says Ray, from Corpus Christi. He looked into attending a game but balked at the $1,100 quoted for a ticket. “How often do you get an event that brings people together from all over the world?” he asks. Does such an admirable sentiment square with the actions of a government that has, to many eyes, made this edition of the tournament less open and accessible than any other in the modern era?
“We can’t shut down the whole world because of a few things going on,” he says. “But after 9/11 we had to pay a lot more attention to our surroundings. Soccer helps us keep a good relationship with other countries”. Ray is relaxed about the prospect of Iran playing games in the US but has few regrets about Trump’s decision to engage in military conflict. “It’s something we needed to do to get global security under control,” he claims. Like others willing to discuss the topic, though, he is concerned about the effect of a lengthy war on fuel prices.
It feels, at least, as if the quest to find a genuine football supporter is warming up. Finally it bears something fruit-adjacent in the form of Jacovia, one of the few Black delegates present. “Me and my friends go and watch some Houston Dynamo games, it’s fun,” he says. “I’m a fan of the sport but I don’t really understand it.”
Jacovia rejects the idea his country has put up the drawbridge to outsiders. “I think that perception is unfair,” he says. “I know there’s going to be pockets of terrible people that aren’t welcoming, but they don’t account for the majority of us.”
None of those who spoke to the Guardian had engaged with the plight of the Somali referee Omar Artan, who was barred from entry to the US. “It’s an older crowd here, if they’ll watch anything it’s American football” says 72-year-old Patti, who takes pains to explain the intricacies of Saturday’s proceedings. They are peppered with speeches from the floor, ranging from the considered to the incendiary. A woman is jeered loudly for saying men should not be allowed parenting responsibility after a divorce; two people towards the back come to blows when a proposed amendment to protect against antisemitism is struck out. There are more boos at the mention of Tucker Carlson, the conservative podcaster; everyone rallies round again when the hawkish Texas senator Ted Cruz, whose public feud with Carlson over Iran continues to rumble, takes the stage.
In the adjacent exhibition hall, visitors can sign up to the Patriot Mobile network, hear the claims of Texans For Vaccine Choice or download Abbott’s own app. All of conservative southern American life is here: disarmingly filter-free, deeply ideological, confounding and in parts deeply disturbing. Football and the World Cup, though, remain beyond the periphery.
“It’s growing, it’s definitely growing,” says Steve. At the Texas GOP convention, that is happening at an elephant’s pace.
