This past Wednesday, Chris Hayes did a terrific story on his MSNBC show about one of the lesser-discussed and major problems caused by Trump's actions, enabled by the MAGOPs in Congress.  And that's tourism.

His point was that, although tourism might seem like a small issue, it's actually the economic area where the United States not only has a surplus, but the one area that has always run a surplus, and a big surplus.  It's money that all goes one way, into the U.S.  Billions of dollars.  And not just money for coming into the country, but for hotels, renting cars, taking trains and buses, tickets for shows and entertainments, buying food, getting souvenirs and more.  And further, and perhaps most importantly, it creates jobs.  Huge numbers of jobs.

And it's cratering, thanks to Trump.

Imagine now, as the report starts out, how this could impact international visitors coming to the the U.S. for the 2028 Olympics.  Or not comings.  For that matter, which the segment doesn't touch on, who knows what conditions will be then and if any democratic countries refuse to even send their Olympics teams.  (I don't think it will come to that, but I don't know with absolute certainty, and it's a question that can't not​ be asked.)

On the Lockheed Martin website, they describe Trump's push for the Pentagon to develop a "Golden Dome" (Trump's version of the failed "Star Wars Defense Initiative" that Ronald Reagan tried) as the "Golden Dome stands as an impenetrable shield, safeguarding the American homeland with unwavering precision." 

There's no way of knowing yet if this effort will be successful, or as foolhardy and wasteful as Reagan's attempt.  The one thing we do have an idea about, though, since we're already seeing the first results, is that Trump is  doing a great job even without any technology creating an invisible force shield keeping other people from around the world out.  And not just minorities from his self-proclaimed "sh*thole countries," but everyone.

​Rather than me describe the segment more, it's best to turn these pages over to Chris Hayes, and let him dive deep into it.

And now, a brief musical interlude from shore to Dinah Shore...

​At the time, I was a little sorry that the poster had as many years as "16."  Little did I know how paltry that number would be.

A couple of fun tidbits about that first production in 1952.  One of the actors in the play was Richard Attenborough, who of course went on to great fame as an actor (in such movies as The Great Escape and Jurassic Park), but even greater fame as a director, winning an Oscar for Gandhi.

And also, when Agatha Christie signed a contract to give away the movie rights, it was under the condition that no movie of it would be made until after the play closed.  That was 72 years ago.  So far...

As I wrote previously, the Swiss Travel Board has put out a series of long ads the past few years that are pretty amusing.  They each star Swiss tennis star Roger Federer, along with another celebrity he’s supposedly got to join him, and I’ll post the best of them. 
 
The first I posted was with Trevor Noah here.  

The second was this with Federer and Anne Hathaway
 
Finally, completing the trilogy, here’s one with Federer and Robert De Niro.
​

Yesterday, England defeated the Netherlands in soccer (or football, or whatever you want to call it) and made it to finals of the World Cup, which will be played on Sunday.  This is a huge deal for the country which is one of the more soccer-crazed countries in the world, which is saying a lot.  So, I thought in its honor, I'd post this article that I've posted several times in the past, originally 10 years ago in 2024.  It's about when I was just a wee kidling on a family trip, and we somehow got tickets -- and truly amazing tickets -- to the opening game of the 1966 World Cup...which was the last time England won the World Cup.  But that's only part of the tale, and not even the most remarkable part.  Which is why I call it --

​

Now that the World Cup has started, and the United States has come up with a miracle victory, I thought this would be a good time to tell the story of not only one of the greatest, unknown World Cup miracles, but one of the all-time great sports miracles, period.

It's how my family and I got to see the World Cup in London, 1966,

And I'm serious.

Okay, no, it's not the upstart United States hockey team beating the Soviet steamrollers.  Or the unknown Roulon Gardner defeating the unbeaten, invincible legend Alexander Karelin.  It's not Kirk Gibson hitting a home run on one leg, or Doug Flutie's Hail Mary.  But those are more remarkable physical achievements by talented athletic.  This was an act of otherworldly intervention.

When I was but a wee kidling, my family took a summer trip to Europe.  One of our stops was London, where as fate would have it, the British were hosting the World Cup that year.  As maniacal as we know the rest of the world is over soccer, England might be the home of soccer insanity.  In a land known for tradition, soccer riots are de rigeur there.  If you're not rioting, you're not trying.

Nonetheless, my dad thought it would fun to see a World Cup match.  (Note:  The concept of it being "fun" to see a World Cup match is not relatable for most soccer fans, most especially those who are the aforementioned British.  "Fun" is a nice get together for tea, or taking your dog for walkies.  Being able to see a World Cup match in England is closer to being life-affirming.)  And so, uncaring of the obstacles, my dad found out how to apply to the world lottery being held to get tickets   He sent in his form and enclosed his check, and then went on with his life.  Meanwhile, throughout England there was national prayer held nightly in homes throughout the country, if only the Almighty would grant them a ticket.

We got four tickets.  

But that's not the story, it's not even close to the miracle.  It's just the heavens warming up.  Because, you see, we just get four tickets to the World Cup, we got them for...the Opening Match!  Which would be filled with grand celebration and royalty.  But thing is -- that's not the story, either.  Because, again you see, featured in the Opening Match of World Cup 1968 was a team that it was likely British fans -- so knowledgeable of all the great teams in the world -- would dearly would love to see.

That team was England.

Yes, that's right.  By just randomly sending in to the worldwide lottery, we got four tickets to the Opening Match of the World Cup between England and Uruguay, held in London at Wembley Stadium.  And here's the thing:  no, that's not the sports miracle, either.

I should note that we were very happy to get the tickets.  Not "mad-crazy-happy, my life has been made whole" like anyone in England would have been to get those four tickets, but certainly happy.  But happy as in, boy, this will be fun.  I mean, to be honest, one has to put this in perspective.  Wembley Stadium is huge, after all.  It seats 90.000 people, which is 80,000 more than the town, Glencoe, we lived in.  So, the chances of seeing the match very well were small.  And not being mad-crazy soccer fanatics, not being able to see the game very well in the nosebleed section would certainly lessen the majesty of the moment.  But still, that didn't matter all that much, since I was pretty young and didn't know the rules of soccer all that well.  (I can't speak for the rest of my family, though I suspect I knew more than my mother.  You kick the ball and hope it goes in the net.)  But just being there in the massive crowd, somewhere, anywhere, amid all the excitement, that would be cool.  Just to be able to say we were there.  Wherever "there" was.

Where "there" was turned out to be -- okay, are you ready:  mid-field, center line, halfway up, directly across the field from where the Queen of England was sitting in the Royal Box.

Okay, that's the sports miracle.

Let me repeat.  With the entire world of sports fanatics converging on London, England, for the World Cup, we got four tickets to the Opening Match in which the host country England was playing, seated at midfield halfway up Wembley Stadium across from the Queen of England.

Seriously.  

And to be clear, this isn't the fuzzy memory of a little kid recalling things far better than they actually were.  Exaggerating for posterity.  No, I have photographic evidence.  

I took pictures.

(Sorry for the guy's head.  I wasn't great at composition at that age.)

Look directly across the field.  Do you see that "box" just below the horizontal white line, marking the upper level?  That's where the Royal Family is sitting.  Directly opposite us.  If you look closely, I believe that Queen Elizabeth is waving at you.

I told you I wasn't lying.

It was pretty remarkable.  As I said to my dad just a couple days ago, reminding of the story, if he had decided to sell these tickets it would have paid for the entire trip.  "And," he added, "your college education.  And your brother's." 

The crowd, the ceremony, the excitement, the game, it was great.  Memorable to one's bones.  Absolutely wonderful, historic.  There was only one disappointing thing about the match.  Ever since I knew we had the tickets, one of the things I was looking forward to seeing was England score a goal amid that maniacal crowd going soul-bursting wild for the home team.  (Even at that age, I grasped the concept of such drama.)  And the final score of the game between England and Uruguay was...0-0.

Zippo.  Or as the soccer folks like to say, "Nil."  Or more accurately, nil to nil.

(More action photos from the collection of photo-journalist Robert J. Elisberg.  Notice the compositional improvement after many minutes of experience represented here by the lack of heads getting at least completely in the way.  Hey, when you're a little kid, people are bigger than you are.)

So, no bursting of massive cheers by the heart-loyal English crowd at the site of the goal for their beloved home team.  No cheers over a goal from anyone.  On the good side, at least we weren't there to see England lose.  In fact, just so you know, the zero goals were not the result of a mediocre team.  Indeed, host England went on to win the world championship.  They just didn't choose to get any goals that particular day.

Hey, that's the way some miracles go.  Sometimes, the fates decide to put the miracle in perspective.  After all, you shouldn't take the good and miracle for granted.

But a dozen years before Al Michaels asked the question of sports fans at the Lake Placid Olympics, I had already been able to answer the sports question.  Yes, I do believe in miracles.

When I next get together with the Queen, I'm sure we'll swap tales of that day.  No doubt it wasn't as much a sports miracle for her -- I'm sure she had an in, or went to a scalper -- but it was nonetheless quite a day of national pomp and circumstance, so I'm sure she had to have written about it in her journal.  For all I know, she's got snapshots of me in return.

When talking with my dad about this the other day, he noted one other thing.  "How did I get those seats??"

It was a miracle, dad.  The greatest sports miracle ever.  At least to some people.

As I wrote previously, the Swiss Travel Board has put out a series of long ads the past few years that are pretty amusing.  They each star Swiss tennis star Roger Federer, along with another celebrity he’s supposedly got to join him, and I’ll post the best of them. 
 
The first I posted was with Trevor Noah.  Here’s another one with Federer and Anne Hathaway