Washington: Soccer is not my world. So the fact that my adopted home town, Washington, was to host the World Cup final draw really snuck up on me.

But thanks to some very accommodating media staff, I was able to score last-minute accreditation, and on the city’s first snow day of the winter, I headed down to the Kennedy Centre to see what all the fuss was about.

One thing you come to learn quickly in the US is that big events like these are always chaotic. There will be a million rules, but none of them will be clear; you’ll nonetheless be yelled at for breaking them, and everything will take much longer than it reasonably should.

Often, this will screw you over. But sometimes, it can work in your favour. So it was with the World Cup draw.

Security was, as always, a nightmare – though once I found the separate media queue (that nobody had thought to signpost), it was a breeze. Once inside, I headed to the first entrance. Alas, I was told my media pass was not valid for the main event, just for the press pen.

I followed the volunteer’s vague directions, only to end up walking straight onto the red carpet.

If I was among celebrities, I didn’t recognise them. My version of a celebrity mecca would be the Midwinter Ball or perhaps the Brownlow Medal. Obviously, nobody stopped me to take my picture.

The most important thing when you are somewhere you probably shouldn’t be is to walk with purpose. Don’t loiter; never hesitate. So I strode to the end of the hallway and straight into the World Cup draw reception.

Inside, it was Disneyland for soccer fans. The grand foyer – one of the world’s largest rooms – was filled to the brim with swanky guests wearing lanyards, stands bearing coffee, Taittinger champagne, muffins, cut fruit and Greek yoghurt parfaits.

A string octet played while the great and the good mingled and took photos in front of a giant soccer ball and FIFA 2026 signage. Suits and sneakers – a common combination in the US – were everywhere.

Somehow, I’d made it inside the party without even really trying. But I wanted to ditch my peacoat and scarf at the coat check. That meant going back outside. Foolishly, I took the gamble.

At first, my attempt to re-enter the red carpet failed. This time, someone on their A-game directed me to the media centre – two words that have come to strike fear into my heart.

I’ve been at the media centre for plenty of large-scale events, and it’s never good. You are dumped in a drab holding pen with a big screen, far from the action.

Fortunately, I found my way through the car park back to the red carpet, where I arrived just in time to spot FIFA boss Gianni Infantino posing with Brazilian soccer legends Ronaldo and Kaka. When the carpet closed, I seized my chance to sneak through the crowd back into the reception.

Once inside, I helped myself to a glass of beetroot juice and tried to find the Australians. I looked for green and gold, kept my ears peeled for the accent, and inquired after anyone drinking a beer or hovering near the bar.

Eventually, I heard it – that unmistakable Aussie twang. She turned out to be a Melburnian who now lives in Miami and works for FIFA. Apparently, only a handful of Australians were in attendance.

Inspecting my lanyard, she quickly clocked me for the imposter that I was. “You actually shouldn’t even be in here,” she said, pointing me towards – yep – the media centre.

But I was feeling confident. As guests filed into the majestic theatre and had their tickets checked, I noticed people taking camera equipment through a separate entrance. I flashed my badge and waltzed right in.

I ended up at the back of the hall with the photographers, just below the dress circle, where US President Donald Trump and first lady Melania Trump were seated with Infantino, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney and Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum.

Proceedings began with a rousing rendition of Puccini’s Nessun dorma by Andrea Bocelli, which everyone in the room filmed on their phones. Trump was the first in the dress circle to leap to his feet for a standing ovation, while Carney at one point seemed to shake his head in awe.

It turned out to be the highlight of the day. To say the draw was drawn out would be a grave understatement.

FIFA naturally awarded its inaugural “peace prize” – a bit of nonsense it invented to suck up to Trump, who gave the shortest and most modest speech I can remember him giving.

It’s one thing to hear Trump boast, dubiously, about ending eight wars; quite another to hear it from the head of FIFA. But Infantino knows there’s no such thing as too much when it comes to stroking the president’s ego.

Somehow, that obsequious stunt wasn’t even close to the most cringe part of the ceremony. That honour went to the awkward and painfully unfunny banter between hosts Kevin Hart and Heidi Klum, who never quite mastered the art of the teleprompter.

As the interminable videos and interviews piled up, the audience began to drift. By the time the pots appeared and the draw finally started, many people were scrolling on their phones.

I snapped back to life during a playful bit when former basketballer Shaquille O’Neal – who makes even NFL legend Tom Brady look small – mercilessly toyed with the 5-foot-something Hart.

The draw itself was suspenseful enough – if you’re into that sort of thing – though, honestly, it felt like a meeting that could have been an email.

Australia were grouped with the US, Paraguay and a yet-to-be-determined qualifier – which my colleague Vince Rugari says is “a pretty good group for the Socceroos”.

The ceremony ended with Village People performing Y.M.C.A. – another sop to Trump, who likes to end his major speeches with the camp classic. However, the band bungled their entrance, ambling on stage nearly 30 seconds after the musicians began playing.

The hiccup didn’t stop Trump from breaking out his signature dance move and applauding with gusto as guests below filmed him with their phones. I also spotted him pointing out the Kennedy Centre’s recent renovations to Carney and Sheinbaum.

Back out in the post-draw reception, I sampled some dry chicken sliders and delicious fresh salmon with all the trimmings (dill, capers, red onion), while others popped open the Taittinger.

Alas, I never did find the Australians.

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