DR Congo Fans Savor Historic Lead Before England’s Late Rally Denies World Cup Upset

The Democratic Republic of Congo experienced 68 minutes of pure elation — roughly three-quarters of a match — before reality intervened.

Seven minutes into Wednesday’s World Cup opener against England in Atlanta, the Leopards struck first, igniting wild celebrations across Kinshasa. At designated fan zones, where thousands gathered around giant screens, supporters screamed, waved scarves, and jumped in unison. The capital’s notoriously gridlocked streets transformed into arteries of jubilation; car horns, typically a soundtrack of frustration, blared in triumph, while radio hosts shouted themselves hoarse over the airwaves.

Revelry spilled onto the banks of the Congo River, where fishermen navigated canoes past sprawling watch parties. By some estimates, thousands of viewing sites dotted the city of roughly 20 million Kinois, and traffic patterns suggested the vast majority of the population was either celebrating or desperately trying to reach a screen.

“Angleterre aza maîtrisable” — “England is beatable” — read a roadside billboard, capturing the prevailing sentiment. For over an hour, that belief held firm. Fans at venues like Village 243, named for the country’s dialing code, nursed Mützig beers and toasted every Congolese advance, savoring the unfamiliar luxury of leading a World Cup match.

“The English are angry,” observed one patron at the outdoor venue, which was ringed by stalls selling drinks and hopeful bottles of champagne. “They’re playing angrily.”

The contrast with history was stark. The last time Congo — then Zaire — reached the World Cup, 52 years ago, they exited in the first round without scoring, suffering a humiliating 9-0 loss to Yugoslavia that prompted dictator Mobutu Sese Seko to threaten barring the team’s return.

Dieudonné Mwape, a member of that 1974 squad, watched Wednesday’s first half at a neighbor’s house during a power outage and the second at home. He noted the vast gulf between the eras: today’s players compete for top European clubs, benefiting from professional training and resources unimaginable in 1974.

Africa’s youthful demographics were evident at Village 243, where only one attendee, 63-year-old Valentine Kinzeya, had been alive for the previous appearance — though she hadn’t watched it. “Only a few people had TVs back then,” she said, pausing between serving drinks. Jean-Marc Mandala, 60, recalled following the 1974 campaign on radio in Bandundu province, where televisions were nonexistent. “Everyone was just happy we were in it,” he said, rushing home at halftime to beat traffic. For 2026, merely reaching the knockout stage felt miraculous: “It’s already a joy.”

The team’s performance capped a landmark group stage for African football, which placed an unprecedented nine of its ten representatives into the knockout rounds, eliminating heavyweights like the Netherlands in the process.

Technical hiccups plagued Village 243; the massive screen, powered by a laptop, flickered intermittently, prompting fans to hoist red plastic chairs and migrate between working displays.

Then, just past the hour mark, England equalized.

“Why did you leave him alone?” a frustrated spectator shouted at the Congolese defense. “If you keep leaving Harry Kane alone, they’ll get a second goal!”

The prophecy fulfilled itself swiftly. Kane, England’s captain, struck again, draping a heavy, unfamiliar silence over the fan zone. The dream of a historic upset evaporated.

Yet the silence broke. A horn blasted; applause erupted. The mood softened, whiskey glasses were refilled. Despite the 2-1 defeat, Kinshasa remained undimmed.

“In any case, we’re still going to celebrate,” one fan declared, stubbing out a cigarette.

Justin Makangara contributed reporting.

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