This story was featured in The Must Read, a newsletter in which our editors recommend one can’t-miss story every weekday. Sign up here to get it in your inbox.
Jude Bellingham is on a mythical, record-breaking run at this year’s World Cup. That is not the point of this article.
“For me, it was really love at first sight. Like, I needed to know who that man was and everything about him immediately,” says Lisa*, a 34-year-old New Yorker who became aware of England’s talisman after watching the Mexico match last weekend. “He’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen, but he also seems like such a great, humble, hardworking guy. I love seeing him speak Spanish, talk about his mom and sing ‘Sweet Caroline’. They’re not making men like this in America.”
It tends to happen slowly, and then all at once. A friend will mention Bellingham’s name, or you’ll be watching an England game and notice him constantly tugging his shirt and revealing his six-pack. Then suddenly, he’s all over your feed, in your thoughts, in your dreams.
“He’s honestly the only reason I would follow the soccer at this point,” says Caroline, 27, who, like many American women, found out about Bellingham’s existence via Instagram a few weeks ago. “He just has that athlete aura, you know, where they know they’re really good, and they’re also attractive, and it’s just kind of magnetic,” she says, comparing his swag levels to Puerto Rican rapper Bad Bunny.
Ever since the England team landed in America on June 1, the Bellingham thirst has grown and grown. He picked up almost one million followers in the 24 hours after each of the last two England matches, and his name is one of the top 30 trending hashtags in America on TikTok. “Is Jude Bellingham my husband?” is the fastest-rising search term related to his name on Google in the US.
This might be related to the fact referring to Bellingham as your husband became a social media trend last week (one New Yorker captioned her video of his equalizing goal at the England vs Norway game, “So awkward. Standing next to my boyfriend & my husband just scored”). And it’s not just the girls. When new photos dropped last week of the England team working out in the Kansas City heat, the LGBTQ+ sports magazine Outsports was quick to report: “Gay fans are as taken with the veins on Bellingham’s legs as sports scientists.”
So, why Jude? And why now? The answer is complex, layered and highly scientific. Bellingham has a lethal face card, and a surreal, almost inconceivable muscle-to-fat ratio. Then there’s his tendency to show his emotions during games—not always welcomed by the British press—with watery eyes, raised brows, and an open mouth. He seems, when he’s belting “Wonderwall” back to the traveling fans, pretty heartfelt about the whole thing, with a mix of confidence and earnestness that feels rare for a 23-year-old.
Some of his ubiquity is just basic internet math. Engagement breeds engagement, and footballers like Bellingham arrived at the World Cup with huge followings already. Women, in particular Gen Z, have been devouring professional sports content in higher numbers lately. We’re living in the Heated Rivalry era of TikTok.
As well as his torso and goal-scoring abilities, horny new Jude fans focus on his highly clippable good-guy credentials—montages of him doing things like picking up toddlers or giving his jacket to a child in a wheelchair. Except for a few creepy AI-generated fantasy videos, the tributes are, on the whole, quite wholesome. “My ovaries have discovered a new lease on life”, one commenter writes under the wheelchair video, which is about as raunchy as this cohort gets.
