Yesterday, Freddy woke up in a hotel room in downtown Boston that had been paid for by celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay. Placed on one chair was a chef’s coat signed with a personal letter from Hell’s Kitchen star: “Dear Freddy, Welcome to Boston!” For the past month, the German @FreddyLA7 on X has been on the ride of his life. Crossing the United States on a major World Cup tour, the anonymous soccer fan posted about the beauty of supermarkets and gas stations, showing an infectious enthusiasm for American culture. Along the way, he gathered hundreds of thousands of followers; met famous singers, wrestlers, and astronauts; and he was showered with swag and stayed at the hotel for free.
Then, within 24 hours, the dream of Freddy’s American fever ended as suddenly as it had begun. On Monday night, he watched his home country fall to Paraguay in shocking shock. “No Freddy…” he lamented JJ Watt, a former NFL star who awarded him and his fellow travelers a luxury hotel in Houston last month. Not everyone had such compassion. “Now that Germany is out, we can all admit that Freddy is a fake account, right?” one user has been published. Others suggested—either seriously or jokingly—that Freddy was a CIA operative: “Go back to Langley I’m afraid.” Last night, he deactivated his X account.
No one has provided enough evidence that Freddy was anything other than what he claimed. But something about him always seemed too good to be true. Behind each person’s picture was a master poster who knew which cultural signifiers would most appeal to Americans. Behind every seemingly off-the-cuff post (“DUDE LMAO THIS IS A GAS STATION😭😭😭”) was a careful choice of how to frame the shot for maximum viral quality. Atlanta, he observed, “was so green and crazy. It feels like you’re in the woods all the time.” Taco Bell, where he sampled the electric-blue soda and nacho cheese, was “the Holy Land.” His starry-eyed enthusiasm had an obvious appeal: Here was a stranger showing us with fresh eyes what we still have to love about a country plagued by anxiety that it’s in decline.
Many other accounts that used the “overzealous World Cup tourists” trend were quickly revealed to be less than real. But Freddy, who didn’t respond to several requests for comment, never really matched the influence of crypto-shilling. He remained anonymous and claimed that he has no intention of cashing in on his success on social media. Although he appeared to post casually and freely—picking up his meal at a Chili’s in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and a view from his front-row seats to TNA Wrestling’s Slammiversary—he left out any details that would reveal his identity. He covered his face with the image of his favorite soccer player, Portuguese star Cristiano Ronaldo.
Avoiding fame and fortune, however, did not prevent Freddy from the same investigation that awaits other viral sensations. As the beauty of his appeal faded, it gave way to deterioration; tearing Freddy down became more interesting than building him up. While Freddy was in Boston lamenting Germany’s defeat, internet celebs dug up more unsavory news from his X publication history. They discovered a 2023 post in which Freddy hinted at attending “several concerts in the USA,” indicating that the World Cup trip was not his first visit to the country. The discovery, intended to cast doubt on the reality of Freddy’s paranoia in the most basic aspects of American life, soon took a turn for the worse. Freddy had defended a live broadcaster who used tribal language while singing along to rap lyrics. After deleting his X account last night, Freddy posted an explanation of sorts on Instagram. He said that things had turned “very toxic,” and that people were looking into his past posts to “make me look like a bad person.” He claimed that eventually removing the account had been a “full-time plan.”
It is possible that Freddy was just an ordinary person. That may explain why none of the leaders and celebrities who met him saw fit to reveal him. Spokesmen for the Houston mayor and the Houston Police Department confirmed that Freddy was a real person, but declined to provide further information about him. Reps for Ramsay, Watt, and country music star Ella Langley — all of whom are apparently in contact with Freddy — did not respond to requests for comment. An email to astronaut Jessica Meir, who FaceTimed with Freddy from the International Space Station, produced an automated reply: “Please resend after you get back to planet Earth!”
At least he seems to be from Germany. At the end of June, Freddy told a German newspaper Hamburger Abendblatt that he is a student in his 20s from the Hamburg district of Bergedorf who is engaged in media management. He asked that the publication keep his name so that he and his friends can continue their journey without being surrounded by the crowd. Freddy’s social media history before his virus appeared more or less matches that history. He posted on X mostly in English but sometimes in German, occasionally commented on German politics, and in 2024 he happily posted about a big soccer match in “my hometown Hamburg.” At least twice, he published receipts that redacted his last name but revealed the first name Frederik. I found a LinkedIn profile that fit the broad strokes of what we know about him, but the owner of that profile did not respond to messages. Nor the CEO of the German sports marketing company where he had joined.
Freddy’s anonymity fueled his success. A real person has a career, past, and politics. “Freddy from Germany” was a little man. One of Freddy’s wisest decisions may have been to quietly decline the White House invitation. He told a German newspaper that he would like to accept but did not want to get involved in politics. Another famous online World Cup fan, Shaun from Scotland, took a beating from liberals for posing with Florida’s Republican governor, Ron DeSantis.
Staying faceless turned Freddy into a mirror. Conservatives saw an image of American greatness. Liberals discovered the American continent with cunning eyes. Optimists saw hope in a man who was able to unite the country in something other than anger. Critics saw a privileged person consorting with a deluded people. Conspiracy theorists, of course, saw a CIA psyop.
It doesn’t matter if Freddy deserved to be ripped off online or not. At the time he was Duck Milkshake had become a division in the way that everything popular on social networks must eventually. Division is not necessarily bad; for canny influencers, it can be a path to greater success. But Freddy’s way to prove his loyalty would be to reveal his identity, and that would make him world famous in a way he seems to have been trying to avoid. The rare thing about him was his decision to leave it all behind and get back on the road with his friends.
Fittingly, the day before Freddy disappeared, another German World Cup fan went viral on X. “America, I’m into you! 🇺🇸🏆,” posted Finn Agostinelli, aka Fiago. As of yesterday morning, he was already coming out of Freddy’s playbook. “What sauce is this?” Agostinelli captioned a photo of himself holding a bottle of A1. “I’ve never seen that before is it like HP or Worcester Sauce?” Unlike Freddy, there’s no mystery about his identity—or his motivations. A soccer influencer on the popular YouTube channel, Agostinelli posted today that he is suspending his sports analysis until the German club season begins: “Until then I am a full-time travel producer visiting the United States.”
