LOS ANGELES – The World Cup came to America and delivered the U.S. a love letter capable of melting the coldest heart.

What makes this soccer tournament so powerful is its ability to make us look up from our cellphones long enough to feel the same goose bumps as strangers from strange lands.

I plunked down a hefty $720 (plus fees) for a ticket to watch Turkey beat Team USA 3-2 Thursday in a match during which Hollywood celebrities Jessica Alba and Owen Wilson got more face time on the massive SoFi Stadium video board than resting USMNT stars Folarin Balogun and Tyler Adams got playing time on the pitch.

Gotta tell you: It was worth every penny.

And the best part?

All the forever memories were born of little moments that didn’t cost a dime.

A sports journey I won’t forget started on a perfect California dreaming afternoon, during a 1.5-mile walk from my economy hotel to the $5 billion America football house that our pal Stan Kroenke built.

The celebratory vibe was set by the sound of “I Love L.A.” being sung loudly and enthusiastically off key by three soccer fans proudly wearing white shirts adorned with the red crescent and star of the Turkish flag.

My new friends from Istanbul took selfies under palm trees and shouted with delight upon finding an immaculately restored El Camino parked in a driveway, as if they had stumbled across something as rare and iconic as the ancient Greek theater of Ephesus. 

At a time when the United States is often depicted as the world’s bully rather than a benevolent policeman, the real wonder of this World Cup is how visitors from around the globe have fallen head over heels in love with all the silly stuff we Americans take for granted.

Tourists to these United States have marveled at everything from the wonders of air conditioning set at a frosty 68 degrees to the chips and hot salsa offered without request and for free in restaurants.

Rather than warning international fans against trying to take our marijuana back home, the TSA has gently advised them to not get our coveted ranch dressing confiscated by packing it in carry-on luggage.

Freddy, a German soccer enthusiast road-tripping his way across America, has befriended American football star J.J. Watt, attracted nearly 750,000 followers on X and bagged an invite to the White House by happily devouring every slice of Americana in his path and treating a stop at Buc-ee’s like a holy pilgrimage.

The crowd at the USA-Turkey match was divided between soccer diehards living the once-in-a-lifetime dream of bearing eyewitness to the World Cup and partying casuals looking for an excuse to dress up for a red, white and blue version of Halloween.

The stadium was a sensory overload of enduring faith in American superiority, despite the fact U.S. males have never dominated the world soccer stage.

Walking the concourse prior to the match was a soccer carnival as raucous as Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras. There was a proud and defiant hirsute dude wearing Uncle Sam overalls with the letters U-S-A shaved into his hairy chest. A young blonde as scantily clad as a Playboy bunny held a large look-at-me-on-TV homemade sign that forecast the winner of the Golden Ball, awarded to the tourney’s most outstanding player: “Messi or Ronaldo? Wrong! Pulisic.”

When I asked what instilled such conviction in her prediction, she confidently replied: “I can see the future. It’s my super power.”

The World Cup is a big party, where passing a test of soccer knowledge isn’t required for admission.

The first wave of goose bumps that made me shiver on a 70-degree night in SoCal hit when nearly 70,000 voices belted out “The Star-Spangled Banner” with a patriotic fervor I hadn’t heard at a sporting event since the days immediately following 9/11 nearly 25 years ago.

It wasn’t necessary to know nutmeg from offsides in order to high-five my American brothers in Section 342 when former Colorado Rapids defender Auston Trusty blasted home a goal to put the USMNT ahead 1-nil only three minutes into the game.

After nearly 50 years of no cheering in the press box, I was delighted to discover how easy it was to transition into a fan toasting new friends in the stands with a frosty beer.

And I found it strangely reassuring when spectators who couldn’t have identified legendary Argentine coach Mauricio Pochettino in a lineup a year ago took his name in vain when Turkey scored the winning goal against his U.S. squad in the waning seconds of stoppage time.

For 39 days, this World Cup has given the USA the chance to share a Big Gulp and bigger smiles with good people from around the world.

And that, my friends, is what makes soccer a beautiful game.