The 2026 World Cup delivered everything FIFA promised. The soccer was compelling. The stadiums filled. The broadcasts drew viewers. And most importantly for FIFA's bottom line, the tournament generated billions in revenue, far exceeding the organization's own projections.
By almost every metric that mattered to FIFA, the tournament succeeded. The expanded 48-team format worked smoothly enough that discussions about pushing to 64 teams are now happening in earnest among sports leadership. Hydration breaks, once controversial, are becoming normalized. The full American spectacle was on display: countdown clocks, halftime shows, championship rings, dynamic pricing, commercial breaks, and all the theatrical flourishes that define a domesticated sporting event.
But success for FIFA and success for soccer in America are not the same thing.
The United States, Mexico, and Canada each hosted matches across the tournament. Mexico saw its team reach the knockout stage for what felt like progress, even if it landed them at the same point they've reached repeatedly since 1994. Canada, hosting for the first time, exceeded expectations on the field despite a lopsided loss to Morocco, and the country delivered strong fan experiences that visitors will remember fondly. The US, meanwhile, provided the infrastructure and audiences that made the whole operation hum.
Yet the financial structure ensured a stark outcome: FIFA's enormous revenue haul headed straight to Switzerland. Unlike 1994, when tournament surpluses stayed in the United States to fund grassroots development, this edition left nothing behind for local reinvestment. The US Soccer Federation was sidelined, relegated to working around the edges while FIFA captured the full prize.
The tournament faced real barriers to creating lasting domestic impact. Ticket prices climbed steeply, locking out casual fans. Those who did attend likely came already invested in soccer, not converts discovered in the stands. Television ratings suggest new viewers tuned in, but whether they've actually joined the fanbase remains unknowable for now.
More fundamentally, America's soccer problem was never a popularity one. The sport was already ascending sharply in the national consciousness. What soccer in the US actually lacks is access. Access to youth recreation leagues that haven't been consumed by expensive pay-to-play travel programs. Access for talented young players to development-focused coaching at the right ages. Access to fields, equipment, and the simple chance to play.
The 2026 World Cup did nothing to address these structural inequities.
For FIFA, though, the tournament proved something else entirely: the organization can expand, extract maximum value through price-gouging, and face no consequences. In fact, it will be rewarded handsomely for doing so.
That lesson has already been applied. Saudi Arabia is confirmed to host the World Cup in 2034. The US is expected to host again in 2038. FIFA will bring its Club World Cup back to American soil in 2029, likely again in 2025. A Women's World Cup co-hosted in the US in 2031 is essentially finalized. The pattern is clear: FIFA has found a reliable, profitable territory to mine repeatedly.
What FIFA has constructed in America, ultimately, resembles something closer to a commercial colony than a sporting investment.
Author James Rodriguez: "The US just gave FIFA a masterclass in how to monetize a tournament while leaving its host nation holding the bag."
Comments