Franklin Foer

Bravo, Klinsmann. And Look Out, Belgium!
June 26, 2014

It wasn't pretty, but we cheated (the Group of) Death

God Is Brazilian: The Theology of 'Futebol,' Explained
June 19, 2014

My visit to Sao Paulo's Museu do Futebol, where history magically records a Brazil victory in every World Cup ever played 

Welcome to Goal Posts III
June 10, 2014

Welcome to Goal Posts III, TNR's World Cup Blog

Slavery, Sex and the Roots of Brazil's Transcendent Style of Soccer
June 10, 2014

Brazil's fraught racial and sexual history with soccer—and my family's fraught history with Brazil.

Obamacare's Threat to Liberalism
November 24, 2013

There’s a term of art that the Obama White House uses to describe its neurotic supporters who instantly race to the worst-case scenario: They are known as “bed-wetters.” Two months into the dysfunctional life of, however, that seems a

The Plank is Back
June 12, 2013

They say that blogging is over—in fact one of our own writers recently made the argument. That it was just a fleeting moment in the history of opinion journalism, ultimately doomed by far more efficient modes of expression.

Barack Obama Is Not Pleased
January 27, 2013

The president holds forth about his enemies, the media, and the future of football. And skeet shooting, too.

Putting the President on the Couch
November 16, 2012

How has Obama changed in the last four years? To find out, Franklin Foer talks to three Obama-ologists: Barney Frank, Ron Suskind, and David Maraniss

Bob Forehead
August 02, 2012

It seems an historical accident that The Washington Post op-ed page—home to George F. Will, where Henry Kissinger comes to muse—gave birth to one of the great underground comics. But the legendary curator of that page, Meg Greenfield, had a rare (for an editorialist) streak of adventure that occasionally pointed her in the opposite direction of bow-tied bloviating.

June 08, 2012

Some years, the calendar unfolds beneficently. The summer comes wide and open, leaving many hours to peel away from work to watch the World Cup or the Euros. Then, there are other summers, like this one, when you have a new job that chews away all possibility for furtive ventures to the Lucky Bar to watch Poland play Greece. Since I’ve only been back at The New Republic for a few weeks now, I’d be committing professional malpractice to fully cave to the implacable desire to watch every minute of this coming tournament.