There is still an illusion that the advertising market is divided by publishers. If it’s the World Cup, the agenda is sports. If there is a ball rolling, space is sold during halftime of the game.
But just look at our own timeline of this World Cup to realize that sport, ironically, became the supporting actor of its own event.
We no longer consume editorials. We consume narratives.
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There was a time when the tournament was restricted to those who liked football. Today, it is an amusement park for those who love travel, gastronomy, sociology, international relations and, mainly, trends of the week (including conspiracy theories about alleged alien abductions in the middle of matches).
Talking about the World Cup, now, is talking about fashion – just see the players parading on the field with pink boots, or teams like Congo stealing the show in uniforms that border on works of art.
It is also about delving into geopolitical tension – watching Iran’s athletes dealing with the pressure to participate in the tournament.
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And, of course, it’s talking about engagement in its purest form – for example, like the moment when the whole of Brazil embraced the friendly “Vozinha”, Cape Verde’s goalkeeper, crowning him as our national hero overnight.
Contents are no longer contained in the lawn. It is in the fans filming the street, in the unauthorized backstage, or in creators like Luana Zuccolo, who goes viral making comical videos about those aunts who, out of pure spite towards the system, refuse to support Brazil. Everything is stage. Everything is scripted.
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And this behavior is not isolated.
The logic is the same as music playlists. People are learning to move between much more diverse styles as the choice becomes based on everyday contexts and moments.
We end up mixing rock, samba and pop music in the same playlist simply because that combination reflects the atmosphere of the moment – whether it’s looking for energy on the treadmill or lightness at a barbecue.
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Basically, the perception is that we no longer need to consume things in isolated drawers; we consume moods.
The problem?
FIFA, with its infinite list of legal and commercial restrictions, still tries to govern this chaos as if it were the 90s. It imposes “clean” stadiums, blocks broadcasts and pursues the infamous ambush marketing.
But the organization forgot one detail: when a brand or a person leaves
From being a mere “activation” to becoming content, no one can control it anymore. Neither the owner of the ball nor the internet.
The Hero, the Villain and the Toll of Attention
Just like in a Batman or Spider-Man film, in the world of digital narratives the line between the great hero and the great villain is a matter of script and frequency.
Think about Cazé TV and its main spokesperson, Casimiro. He assumes the mantle of an absolute hero when he uses his organic influence and magnetism to embrace the story of goalkeeper Vozinha, transforming it into a personal brand of extreme value in a matter of hours.
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However, on the same screen, the hero wears the villain’s costume when he surrenders to the appealing demands of the betting houses. The bets, printed extensively during broadcasts, not only interrupt the game and break the connection with the audience.
They cross a dangerous line by encouraging, in an imposing way and in real time, compulsive behavior in people with a history or propensity for gaming addiction.
When the screen requires the user to spend money all the time to “do their thing”, whoever is there is not a partner of the fan; It’s a toll. And the bill for this narrative choice always comes in the form of rejection.
The Antidote: Hacking the Narrative
At the other end of the field, we have those who understand that restriction is the best fuel for creativity.
The case of Levi’s in this World Cup is to take your hat off… or rather, the logo. FIFA requires that stadiums not have visible branding from companies other than the tournament’s official sponsors.
Because of this, Levi’s Stadium, in California, had its name temporarily censored. The brand’s gigantic and unmistakable logo on the facade needed to go.
What would the majority do? He would place a huge square black cloth over it and issue a note of rejection. What did Levi’s do? He covered the sign with an extremely tight white canvas, preserving the classic silhouette of his logo (the batwing format) with surgical precision.
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The brand not only accepted FIFA’s imposition, it also turned it into a joke, changing its own profile photo on social media to the “hidden” version.
The result? The censorship became the most engaging advertising meme of the tournament, generating a volume of global attention and sympathy infinitely greater than that of the sponsors who paid millions for the official quota.
CEOs who became fans
And we don’t just need to look outside. See the sponsors of our Brazilian Team. Cimed and iFood could simply place their brands in the backdrop of press conferences and wait for spontaneous media reports.
But João Adibe (CEO of Cimed) and Diego Barreto (CEO of iFood) understood the logic of the era of narratives. They took out their cell phones, went into the crowd and exposed every step, trouble and celebration on American soil.
They are not sponsoring the fans; they are the crowd. They humanized the CNPJ to the point that their leaders’ CPF became the true media channel.
The world is a tangle of stories colliding in real time. What narratives are you consuming? And which ones are you helping to build?
