“Oh, FIFA, You’ve Done it Again"
How football’s governing body turned a global celebration into a political, economic, and moral own goal before a ball has been kicked.
The image of that near-sighted 1960s cartoon character always stumbling into chaos feels strangely apt when you look at FIFA’s current course with the 2026 World Cup in North America. As fans, journalists, and even former FIFA leaders call out mounting problems, the governing body appears blind to consequences.
For context, this analysis is written from long engagement with the political economy of global football rather than passing outrage. I am the co-author of Football for Sale, a book that examines how global football’s governing bodies exploit fans, markets, and sporting integrity for profit. Football for Sale is based on years of research into institutional corruption in the sport, including first-hand interviews and analysis of financial and governance documents. This history of inquiry into how football’s most powerful institutions operate provides the foundation for the analysis that follows.
The 2026 FIFA World Cup was sold to the world on the promise of inclusion, celebration, and the uniting power of sport. Instead, it highlights how deeply an institution like FIFA can become entangled in politics and economic forces that push ordinary fans to the margins.
FIFA hopes and prays that the spectacle on the pitch will be enormous. The backstory off it, unfortunately, is increasingly messy.
So, let’s start where the controversy is clearest.
Immigration policies in the host country, the USA, have become a central concern for fans and national federations. The most recent reporting shows that, as of this month (January 2026), U.S. travel and visa restrictions under the Trump administration cover nationals from 39 countries with full or partial bans on visa issuance and entry. This expanded list includes countries facing full prohibitions as well as others subject to limited visa categories under tighter restrictions. Exemptions exist for athletes, coaches, and essential team personnel, but they don’t guarantee access for ordinary supporters. Multiple media outlets reported that fans from those countries may face blocked entry, even if they obtain tickets and apply for visas. Iran, Haiti, Ivory Coast, and Senegal have been reported among nations whose ordinary citizens face severe barriers to securing U.S. entry due to those policies.
This tension collided with FIFA promotional efforts when, in late 2025 and earlier this month, the governing body tried to reassure the global audience that fans would be welcome. FIFA and U.S. officials launched a priority visa appointment system aimed at expediting interviews for ticket holders, but the U.S. State Department made a crucial point: this system doesn’t guarantee entry. It merely moves applicants ahead in a very long queue. Even with priority appointments, many visa waits remain so long that a fan applying now might not receive a decision before tournament kick‑off.
And critics seized on the contradiction. Why would FIFA partner with a government whose policies explicitly restrict travel for many of football’s most passionate supporters? Calls for boycotts and protests grew louder. Former FIFA president Sepp Blatter— another questionable character who is no stranger to negative press — publicly supported fan boycotts, linking the decision to host matches in the U.S. amid such restrictions, to a broader failure of judgment by football’s governing body.
What does this mean for the fans?
For many, the joy of a World Cup ticket has been overshadowed by uncertainty and frustration. Holding a match ticket no longer guarantees access to the host nation. That’s an astonishing reversal of what “hosting the World Cup” traditionally signified. It’s more than a logistical problem; it raises a question: who does FIFA really serve?
The answer, increasingly, looks less like “the fans” and more like “commercial interests and political expediency.”
Rather than confront these realities, FIFA President Gianni Infantino instead chose appeasement badly dressed as diplomacy. In a widely reported moment of failed political theatre, Infantino publicly praised Donald Trump as a figure of peace and unity, presenting what was framed as a symbolic honour aligned with FIFA’s stated commitment to global harmony. No such award holds formal standing, governance weight, or historical legitimacy within world football. It carries no criteria, no transparency, and no accountability. It exists only as gesture. The intent was obvious. Influence the White House. Soften the ground. Buy favour.
Instead of challenging policies that restrict fans from attending the World Cup, FIFA opted for flattery. Instead of defending access, it chose optics. This isn’t neutrality, it’s submission. Worse, it’s gross incompetence masked as strategy.
FIFA appears to believe political praise substitutes for structural guarantees, and that proximity to power replaces moral authority. That gross miscalculation exposes both corruption and blindness. Infantino’s leadership reflects an organisation that confuses proximity to power with control, and symbolism with substance, while fans bear the cost.
Ticket pricing is another explosive issue. When FIFA and its partners campaigned to bring the World Cup to the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, one of the promises was accessible pricing, with some tickets reportedly pitched at prices as low as USD $21. Those were meant to ensure that the event remained affordable and inclusive, especially for ordinary supporters.
The reality has diverged. And dramatically.
Published ticket pricing data shows a range that puts many tickets far above those original aspirations. Group stage prices in the U.S., for example, can range from roughly $180 to $700 for standard seats. Tickets for knockout round matches escalate further. The cheapest ticket to the final is reported in excess of USD $4,000, while premium seats approach near‑six‑figure sums on resale markets. Football Supporters Europe, a major fan organisation, described these prices as “extortionate” and a “monumental betrayal of the tradition of the World Cup.”
This pricing strategy is not a marginality, it’s systemic. FIFA’s adoption of variable or dynamic pricing means ticket costs adjust based on demand, often rising to levels that outstrip what even affluent football fans might expect to pay. Many observers wonder whether this contradicts the ethos of the World Cup, which, historically, celebrated its global fan base.
The backlash hasn’t been limited to pundits and fan groups. Politicians and city officials in host cities have weighed in, partly because they recognise that empty seats and sour fans undermine the event’s success. Los Angeles’s mayor, Karen Bass, publicly urged the White House to send clear messages of welcome, acknowledging that concerns over U.S. immigration policy and political climate could dissuade visitors.
The combination of travel uncertainty, high costs, and complex visa backlogs is not hypothetical. U.S. lawmakers have warned that severe visa delays and entry restrictions could shut out thousands of fans from attending the tournament. Some representatives argued that these policies contradict the spirit of the event and the commitments made when the U.S. agreed to co‑host the tournament.
Into this charged environment, social media narratives have erupted. Across platforms, users share evidence of ticket cancellations and events being postponed or moved. Some narratives assert that fans are returning tickets en masse due to political concerns, or that games might shift to Canada or Mexico as the U.S. becomes unworkable. And these stories are circulating widely, including on platforms like Reddit. FIFA maintains strict no‑refund policies, meaning that many of these “ticket returns” are actually withdrawals from lotteries or resale activity rather than reimbursed sales, per se.
This distinction matters. Suppose tens of thousands of fans have stepped away from ticket lotteries or resale opportunities. That signals unease. It reflects dissatisfaction and fear. The data on actual refunds has not been publicly confirmed (then again, FIFA’s PR juggernaut wouldn’t allow it in the first place), but the surge of stories about fans pulling out speaks to sentiment as much as sales figures. Sentiment shapes reality in the modern media ecosystem.
The optics of this moment are stark.
FIFA is selling one of the most watched sporting events in history. The bid for the 2026 World Cup emphasised global unity and American hospitality. Today, the headlines speak to barriers, exclusion, and alienation.
For fans from travel‑restricted countries, the World Cup might be something they’ll watch on screens at home rather than in the flesh. For others, the cost barrier could make attending an economic impossibility. These aren’t fringe concerns, they’re rooted in articulated policies and documented pricing models.
And to add salt to the wound, reports from multiple independent sources document dramatic increases in hotel prices in Mexico tied to the lead‑up to the event. A detailed analysis by The Athletic and New York Times shows room rates in Mexico City surged by nearly 1,000 percent for the days around the tournament’s opening match, with some properties charging as high as nearly $3,900 per night compared with typical rates under $200 for similar dates before the World Cup period.
Comparable spikes in Monterrey and Guadalajara pushed nightly prices well into the thousands, far beyond what most fans can reasonably afford. Published tourism industry data also notes general price inflation as host cities prepare for significant international visitation in 2026. These figures illustrate how the economic burden around the event extends well beyond ticket prices alone, placing immense strain on ordinary supporters who travel to witness the matches.
When an institution like FIFA confronts political realities, it must navigate them with care. But in this case, the strategic missteps are not subtle.
Instead of defending fan access to the world’s most popular sporting spectacle, FIFA has become enmeshed in the polarising politics of its host nation. It has brokered a deal with a government whose policies are fundamentally at odds with the notion of a truly global tournament. It has adopted pricing systems that privilege profit over participation. And it has allowed, perhaps inadvertently, a narrative of exclusion to grow unchecked.
That is what “Oh, FIFA, you’ve done it again” ultimately points to.
Football is global, and its heartbeat lies with the fans. But when the governing body of the sport constantly stumbles and loses sight of that heartbeat, it exposes itself to criticism that resonates far beyond the pitch. For many of the sport’s most devoted supporters, the journey to that spectacle has been marred by decisions that sit uncomfortably at the crossroads of commercial ambition and political complicity.
And when the final whistle blows, FIFA will roll out its familiar theatre of success, polished attendance figures, selective images, and carefully framed narratives designed to convince the world that everything worked. Don’t fall for it, because spectacle is easy to sell when accountability is deliberately kept off the stage.
References
Blatter and boycott calls, AP News
Travel restriction impacts for fans, Fox News
Ticket price backlash, Sky Sports
Ticket pricing criticism, Euronews
Visa delays and travel concerns, LiveMint
Summaries of priority visa appointments and processing delays.