The most arresting image from the opening day of the G7 summit in Évian-les-Bains was not the formal handshakes or the choreographed family photo, but the moment German Chancellor Friedrich Merz pulled a neatly folded German national football jersey from behind his back and handed it to a visibly amused Donald Trump. The shirt, emblazoned with the name “Trump” and the number 47 — a nod to his status as the 47th president of the United States — was a belated 80th-birthday gift, complete with a handwritten card that Merz had already dispatched to Washington by courier on Sunday. “We are one team,” Merz declared, a phrase he later repeated on Instagram, as the leaders gathered against the backdrop of the ongoing 2026 World Cup, co-hosted by the US, Canada and Mexico.

The gesture was freighted with diplomatic intent. Merz, who leads a coalition that has pledged to raise German defence spending to five percent of GDP, is seeking to repair a transatlantic relationship frayed by Trump’s unilateral tariff policies, his ambivalent stance on Ukraine, and persistent demands that European allies shoulder more of NATO’s financial burden. The summit itself, set in the mineral-water spa town on Lake Geneva, was the first gathering of the seven leaders since Trump’s return to the White House, and the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tensions. Those tensions surfaced in a separate encounter: French President Emmanuel Macron was subjected to what Israeli and French media described as a “humiliating” handshake, with Trump’s hand folded downward in a posture of dominance, before the American president turned away to chat at length with Macron’s wife, pointedly ignoring her husband.

Viewed from Berlin, the jersey was a calculated piece of personal diplomacy — a touch cringe, as some German commentators noted, but potentially effective with a leader known to prize flattery and personal branding. Italian reporting underscored the biographical echo: Trump’s paternal ancestors hailed from Germany, a detail the chancellor’s team may well have considered. Arab media highlighted the message of unity, quoting Merz’s “one team” remark as a signal that the West still aspires to a common purpose. Yet the scepticism was equally widespread. A commentary in the Süddeutsche Zeitung dryly calculated the cost of the gift — around 150 euros for the player-issue shirt plus flocking — and observed that it was a defence investment far cheaper than a Patriot missile system, but with no guarantee of altering the president’s transactional worldview.

Whether a football jersey can bridge the chasm between Washington and its allies remains doubtful. The G7’s search for cohesion comes at a moment when Trump has shown little inclination to subordinate his “America First” instincts to collective decision-making. The gift may have bought a fleeting smile and a few friendly minutes at the summit table, but the harder currency of tariffs, security guarantees and burden-sharing will be negotiated in the closed sessions that follow. For now, the chancellor has placed a small, symbolic bet that even the most solitary of leaders can be reminded that he is, at least on the pitch of international diplomacy, part of a team.