The cameras at a World Cup follow the players. But in the stands, and in living rooms far from the stadiums, another version of the tournament plays out for the people who raised them, grew up with them or love them. For those families, 90 minutes can feel far longer than it does for anyone else.

When you have stood there yourself

Some parents know exactly what their children are feeling. Alfie Haaland played for Norway at the 1994 World Cup and now watches his son Erling wear the same shirt. "I've watched him play football since he was a little boy, so to see him now representing Norway at a World Cup is a proud moment for all of us," he told ESPN. Even so, the nerves do not disappear with experience. "Every parent feels that, no matter how many matches their son has played," he said, adding that, in his case, excitement wins out.

A childhood habit that became a career

For others, the World Cup is the culmination of something that started with a ball bouncing around the house. Antonio Freeman, a former American football champion, recalled his son Alex "kicking any kind of ball all over the house" as a small child. Watching Alex now line up for the United States, as one of the youngest players in the squad, has been, he told ESPN, "super emotional" and "an overwhelming emotional feeling."

Seeing the person, not just the player

Dane Rashford watches his brother Marcus play for England and sees past the performance to the years behind it. "Moments like this are never just about the 90 minutes on the pitch," he told ESPN. "They're the culmination of years of sacrifice, resilience and belief." What outsiders see as a footballer walking out for his country, he said, he sees as "the little boy who fell in love with the game."

A shared passage

The specifics differ by country and family, but the emotion is strikingly similar the world over: a parent watching a child achieve something they only dreamed of, a sibling who remembers every setback along the way, a partner watching from the stands under the brightest lights in the sport. For these families, the World Cup is less a series of matches than a shared passage, lived together even when they are continents apart.