Five Reasons to Dread the 2026 World Cup

March arrives in a blink, and with it comes an uncomfortable truth: this summer's World Cup is nearly upon us. Less than three months remain before the tournament kicks off, which in the warped temporal logic of modern football fandom might as well be next weekend.

The 2026 edition will take place in North America, and frankly, we're genuinely unsettled about what's coming. Previous tournaments have certainly presented their moral quandaries—Russia 2018 and Qatar 2022 both forced uncomfortable compromises—but this one feels different. More brazen. More impossible to ignore whilst pretending everything's fine.

The Trump Factor

Let's start with the elephant in the room. Donald Trump will be impossible to avoid this summer. Unlike past host nations where one could at least attempt to tune out the political backdrop and focus on the football, there's zero chance of that here.

This is a man who genuinely believes he personally won Olympic gold medals for the United States. He's convinced himself that an AI video of him on an ice rink actually happened. At the Club World Cup, he attempted to position himself as a central figure in the celebrations. Come July, he'll be everywhere—inserting himself into every moment, demanding credit for victories that have nothing to do with him, and quite possibly attempting to leave with the trophy itself.

In the worst-case scenarios—which, let's be honest, aren't that implausible—we could see fixtures moved at whim, diplomatic incidents manufactured during matches, or any number of erratic decisions that turn the tournament into a vehicle for presidential vanity.

Gianni Infantino's Enabling

Then there's FIFA's president, who's decided the world's most popular sport should enthusiastically endorse the planet's most divisive political figure. The nauseating spectacle of Infantino offering unquestioning support to a sitting politician sets a dangerous precedent, regardless of who occupies that office.

It's a betrayal of sport's potential neutrality, and it's being done with transparent calculation. The FIFA Peace Prize awaits its second recipient, apparently.

The Sycophant Parade

It's not just Infantino. We're witnessing a parade of figures queuing up to flatter one or both of these men. Arsène Wenger's endorsement is particularly galling—here's a man who revolutionised football's approach to player welfare and nutrition, now lending credibility to an organisation that's about to fundamentally compromise both.

Too Much Football

The sheer volume of matches will be overwhelming. The 48-team format destroys the elegant simplicity that made the 1998-2022 World Cups so perfect. The old 32-team tournament was beautifully balanced: big enough to feel genuinely global, small enough to maintain sporting integrity and avoid fatigue.

Now we're getting eight additional third-place qualifiers into the knockout stages, diluting the stakes of group play. The tournament will run 72 matches instead of 64, and during one four-day stretch in late June, twenty-four matches will be played simultaneously. That's more World Cup football than entire tournaments from decades past.

Mandatory Hydration Breaks

Here's where FIFA's contempt for your intelligence becomes truly apparent. Three-minute stoppages in each half of every match, mandatory and unconditional, regardless of weather or circumstances.

FIFA claims this is about player welfare. It's not. It's a de facto transformation of football from a two-half sport into a four-quarter one—and conveniently, those three-minute breaks align perfectly with standard advertising slots. This change won't end at 2026. It'll become the template for every tournament going forward, all in the name of squeezing additional revenue.

The dishonesty is what stings most. FIFA could have admitted the financial motivation and at least earned some grudging respect for transparency. Instead, they've hidden behind wellness rhetoric while simultaneously scheduling more matches in less time. They know it's ridiculous. They simply don't care, because there's nothing supporters can actually do about it.

We wanted to love this World Cup. We should be able to love the World Cup. That it's been rendered nearly unlovable by avarice and ego is genuinely infuriating.