Any remaining hope that FIFA might deliver an inclusive and accessible World Cup in 2026 has been extinguished over the past few weeks. A farcical group-stage draw was swiftly followed by confirmation of long-anticipated ticket prices; figures that will almost certainly price regular match-going fans out of attendance altogether.

The upcoming World Cup will be reserved for the wealthy, or for those willing to incur significant debt for the privilege of being there. For many, this has served as final confirmation of football’s descent into the outstretched arms of unfettered capitalism: a game for the many, captured by the few.

The Exorbitant Cost of Attendance

FIFA’s opening of its random selection phase confirmed fears that ticket pricing would be driven purely by revenue maximisation. The logic appears simple: if someone is willing to pay, then the price is justified. World Cups have rarely been financially accessible, but 2026 represents new ground in the exploitation of fan passion.

Group-stage tickets are reportedly up to three times more expensive than those for Qatar 2022, while the cheapest tickets for the final are expected to cost around $4,000 (£3,119). FIFA has attempted to justify this by invoking “fair market value” and the argument that increased revenue enables greater redistribution across the game. Yet this defence rings hollow.

Such pricing strategies may be common in the United States for major sporting events, but they are rarely inclusive and are seldom effective at growing a sport among wider audiences. While the World Cup will undoubtedly draw attention in the U.S., it is difficult to argue that an aggressively commercial approach will meaningfully contribute to the long-term development of football domestically. Just because something can be priced highly does not mean doing so is the optimal or most responsible strategy, particularly for a cultural institution like sport.

The World Cup is, above all, a global event. While domestic audiences in host nations may tolerate these prices, many participating countries cannot. For supporters from developing nations, the cost of a single ticket can exceed an average monthly wage, before flights or accommodation are even considered. The carnival atmosphere that defines the World Cup is built on global participation, and by excluding so many through financial greed, FIFA undermines the very essence of the tournament.

An Unnecessarily Expanded Tournament

Concerns about tournament expansion are not new, and FIFA’s suggestion of increasing participation to 64 teams in 2030 is deeply troubling. Qualification for the World Cup Finals should be an achievement, not an expectation. In Europe particularly, qualification campaigns have become largely meaningless; it now appears harder for established nations to miss the tournament than to qualify for it.

To be fair, expansion has created compelling stories. Nations such as Cape Verde, Curaçao, Jordan, and Uzbekistan will appear at their first World Cup finals, a genuine achievement for those involved. Yet realistically, few of these teams are likely to be competitive, and their inclusion risks diluting the quality of the tournament.

The format compounds the problem. With third-placed teams advancing from the group stage, genuine jeopardy in the opening rounds is significantly reduced. FIFA will cash in on a greater number of matches, many of which will be low in quality and largely inconsequential beyond the teams involved.

A Farcical Draw and Donald Trump’s Peace Prize

If any single event encapsulated the state of FIFA and the 2026 World Cup, it was last week’s surreal draw in Washington, D.C. BBC commentator Jonathan Pearce captured the collective exasperation when he remarked that, “hopefully the draw will be finished in time for the first match in June,” later adding that FIFA president Gianni Infantino “knows no shame.”

Tournament draws are rarely brisk affairs these days, but Infantino’s overt deference to U.S. President Donald Trump turned the event into political theatre. Nearly an hour was spent confirming the automatic placement of host nations — a foregone conclusion — while the substantive elements of the draw were sidelined.

Infantino’s presentation of FIFA’s newly created “Peace Prize” to Trump marked a further step in his transformation from football administrator to would-be political figure. FIFA’s statutes explicitly require political neutrality, making this intervention particularly egregious. It is therefore unsurprising that FairSquare, a London-based human rights organisation, has formally requested investigations into Infantino’s alleged breaches of FIFA’s governance rules. The complaint extends beyond the draw itself to include his public support for Trump’s Nobel Peace Prize ambitions and broader political conduct.

Ethical failings are nothing new at FIFA. Infantino’s predecessor, Sepp Blatter, was removed from office amid corruption scandals barely a decade ago. For some observers, the most notable difference between the two is that Blatter, for all his faults, at least appeared to possess a genuine affection for the game.

Some Cause for Hope

The Qatar World Cup was also mired in controversy, most notably due to the country’s indefensible human rights record and the human cost of hosting the tournament. Yet once the football began, and attention shifted away from politics and profiteering, many were reminded of a simple truth: the game itself remains remarkably resilient.

When the world’s best players gather to compete for the rare honour of being crowned world champions, football has a habit of transcending its administrators. Despite the best efforts of its custodians to tarnish its reputation, the drama, emotion, and intrigue of the World Cup will almost certainly endure.

Football remains the world’s greatest game; even when those entrusted with its care seem determined to forget that.