The 2026 World Cup and the Stain of Trump's America

This World Cup represents the apotheosis of elite football's transformation: less a unifying global spectacle, more a vehicle for shameless profiteering, relentless content creation, and capitalism run amok. Public goodwill has become merely another commodity to extract.

The tournament will be dominated by a figure who resembles a decomposing corpse, fragile-egoed enough to brand dissenters as stupid, leading an administration packed with bigots and ignoramuses unafraid to pontificate on subjects they comprehend not one jot. It is rancid, repulsive, and evil. Yet somehow they remain oblivious to the contempt in which they are held worldwide.

For those who mark their lives by World Cups—this will be my 16th since 1966—the cultural significance remains undeniable. But the effort required to look past the rot feels immense. That decomposing orange creature is a cultural ignoramus who revels in it. Whatever he does to thrust himself centre-stage will be vulgar, crass, and dripping with self-obsession.

The appetite for celebration is there, but impossible to ignore are the competition's countless failures: ticket costs that gouge the wallet, transport expenses that wound, and safety concerns in a nation where ICE agents patrol streets, detaining and killing those who appear foreign or dare protest. This is no longer a game for ordinary folk—it belongs to the wealthy now. How will such corporatisation poison the atmosphere?

Football and politics are inseparable; this tournament proves it conclusively. Some are pledging to boycott. Given America's appalling political landscape, that's entirely reasonable. Many harbour hopes the whole affair becomes a humiliating catastrophe. Yet these people don't experience shame—they simply lie their way through everything, as always.

Mexico, a nation obsessed with football, receives just 13 matches. Canada gets the same. America gets roughly 70. American football supporters tend to be better educated than their British counterparts and approach the tournament with enthusiasm regardless—even knowing it unfolds in what increasingly resembles a fascist state determined to silence critics and consolidate presidential power. Even they recognise the timing could scarcely be worse.

What awaits? The financial barriers are brutally prohibitive. Will stadiums actually fill? Dynamic pricing and resale markets ensure only the affluent occupy premium seats. Reports of astronomical ticket costs abound. Hotels sit half-empty. Ticket sales have slumped. The cheapest available final ticket on resale markets? $8,000.

Some catastrophising undoubtedly reflects a desire to see Trump humiliated. But he cannot be humiliated. He inhabits a permanent state of delusion, fabrication, and fiction. No matter how dire circumstances become, he'll simply lie about them or weaponise them for his twisted agenda.

Can ordinary supporters even afford attendance? How many Iranians will risk travelling to America?

The antipathy directed toward America in 2026 will be staggering. An administration that is deluded, dishonest, vapid, violent, treacherous, and corrupt has manufactured a toxic cocktail of historical ignorance, grotesque stupidity, and laughable self-importance, seemingly incapable of silence.

I once loved America. I filed dispatches from Nevada's deserts via primitive phones in 2006. Some of us even shared a Las Vegas house in 2009. Now? I cannot fathom wanting to return. It feels unwelcoming, hostile, dangerous at every turn—a place where lies and propaganda have constructed something closer to The Handmaid's Tale than democracy.

Football, however, possesses remarkable resilience. Once action begins, it typically eclipses other anxieties. Will that occur this time? Can football's magic counteract the bitter taste of Trump's fractured America? The tourism sector has already suffered, producing an unprecedented $50 billion travel trade deficit as the world stays away.

Tournament enthusiasm sits at unprecedented lows—though we wish otherwise. History offers precedent, mind you. Previous World Cups have encountered obstacles. Host nations have successfully staged tournaments under oppressive regimes. Argentina '78 proved thrilling despite its corruption.

What does television boycotting genuinely accomplish? Trump will simply claim record viewership whilst American journalists lack the spine to contradict him. Besides, with matches scheduled for 11:30pm and 2am, many across Europe will skip live coverage, catching highlights instead. European viewership will inevitably suffer. Passion feels distinctly tepid.

Infantino displays zero indication that widespread contempt affects him or FIFA. One struggles to understand why nations don't sever FIFA ties wholesale. The organisation has proven woefully inadequate and repugnant—this tournament exemplifies that perfectly. Why remain affiliated?

At football's summit, where proprietors compete for the title of most soulless entity, alienation runs deep. This World Cup appears destined to perpetuate that spirit of narcissistic, profit-hungry corporate detachment, descending further into irrelevance as decision-makers extract the game from supporters and hand it to corporate sponsors.

The encouraging news? Ignoring this self-appointed elite, the aspects supporters cherish about football endure elsewhere. Simply not here. The World Cup once represented football's pinnacle—it still does in the women's game—yet would its absence genuinely wound? Probably not.