Erling Haaland’s Ubiquity at the World Cup: Much of It Is AI-Generated

Last week, amidst the World Cup excitement, a now-famous video featuring Norwegian striker Erling Haaland surfaced, showing him in a restaurant, mid-bite, glancing to the left and reacting to his own reflection. A post on X sharing this clip amassed over 31 million views within days. However, here’s the catch: it’s not him.

Fact checkers traced the clip back to a comedic skit by Chinese comedian Jin Long, uploaded to TikTok in mid-June. Although corrections were observed, the video continued to spread. By the fourth week of the 2026 World Cup, the internet had already formed its perception of Erling Haaland. Whether real or not, in that video, he was playing a role.

If the traditional notion of fame revolved around a tight control of one’s image, the modern interpretation, as illustrated by Haaland’s recent viral success, is about embodying a character so distinct and endlessly meme-able that the hype can be generated without effort. Consequently, the celebrity morphs into something akin to an open-source figure, only loosely connected to the individual behind the face.

The Haaland fake didn’t emerge in isolation. It originated in China, where the striker has become a meme phenomenon. Over the past few months, he has appeared in a commercial for a Chinese herbal drink, humorously attempting Mandarin, transforming into a song, and earning the nickname Habao (roughly, “Ha Baby”) from fans who revel in the contrast between the on-field powerhouse and the off-field lovable character. As his popularity soared in China, Haaland established official Douyin and Weibo accounts, swiftly garnering millions of followers. The reflection clip was just one artifact among a burgeoning collection of AI Haaland memes and edits, all centered around a shared joke.

So what actually transpires when deepfake becomes a form of fan art?

This is increasingly representative of how sports fandom operates online. Athletes are no longer merely observed through highlights or post-match interviews; they are experienced as evolving characters with distinct quirks and narratives.

They are now receiving the full fandom experience once reserved for fictional characters, complete with lore, canon, character development, and edits. A recent study from AI sports content firm WSC Sports revealed that Gen Z, in particular, feels more connected to individual athletes than to teams, while a survey by consulting firm Oliver Wyman found that social media content from athletes is the primary driver of Gen Z sports engagement.

As a footballer evolves into a character, fans transition from passive observers to active participants in content creation. The “fanon,” which encompasses the material fans create to fill in the gaps left by the canon, is now highly influenced by AI. Athletes no longer need to produce the lore; the audience can fabricate it as needed, and the character adapts effortlessly. Hence, it’s no surprise that Haaland’s deepfake was so readily accepted online. The content doesn’t need to be authentic; it merely has to align with the persona fans have constructed.

Yet, perhaps what the Haaland phenomenon indicates is a curious shift away from a simple fear of deepfakes. Although many in the public were indeed tricked by the AI-generated video, a significant portion chose to engage and share it nonetheless.

Fans have participated in this manner for years. When the @deeptomcruise account began sharing effectively perfect Tom Cruise deepfakes on TikTok in 2021, the result was viral delight. Similarly, an AI-generated track imitating Drake and The Weeknd that emerged in 2023 garnered its own fanfare, being enthusiastically streamed before the labels could intervene and take it down.

That same year, the Balenciaga Pope fooled half the internet for a brief moment, leading to greater appreciation for the Balenciaga coat rather than stirring concerns about AI. This illustrates that if you enjoy someone or something enough, you’ll willingly suspend your disbelief and embrace it.