Donald Trump once stood in a defensive line, kicking long balls over midfield for a team where most of his teammates spoke Spanish and the pregame chant ended in "¡Nosotros! ¡Nosotros! Rah, rah, rah!" That was 1964. Now he's hosting the World Cup.
The journey between those two points is stranger than either end suggests.
At New York Military Academy, Trump's senior year soccer team went 3-8. The coach wasn't good, former teammates said. Latin music played on the team bus. Trump worked the back line as a defender, occasionally launching long balls forward. "He was fairly active on the field," recalled Alfred Harrison, a teammate. "That guy had an abundance of testosterone, that's for sure." Harrison also noted that you didn't really get the ball unless you spoke Spanish — a detail that carries its own irony given Trump's immigration politics six decades later.
The Infantino Effect
Whatever genuine connection Trump has to the sport more or less ended after that season. His son Barron played for the DC United Academy during Trump's first term, but by all accounts Trump never showed up to watch. He named Pelé as his favorite player — while admitting it was a bit old-fashioned — and reportedly considered buying Rangers FC and Atlético Nacional before passing on both.
What Trump actually loves is the spectacle: the trophies, the star players, the cameras. FIFA president Gianni Infantino figured that out quickly.
The list of gifts Infantino has presented to Trump reads like a museum inventory: a blue FIFA jersey, a U.S. men's national team jersey, a golden-framed photo of the two of them, referee cards, two soccer balls, an oversize World Cup final match ticket for "Row 1 Seat 1", and — when Trump was passed over for the Nobel Peace Prize — a custom-created FIFA Peace Prize, complete with a gold trophy depicting five hands holding a globe shaped like a soccer ball. Infantino also brought the actual World Cup trophy to the Oval Office and told Trump that since only winners are allowed to touch it, Trump qualified. Trump asked if he could keep it.
He couldn't.
Infantino has visited the Oval Office at least half a dozen times. He attended Trump's inauguration, sat with him at a UFC fight, came to Melania's film premiere, traveled to Egypt for the Gaza ceasefire talks, and posed with Trump at the UN General Assembly. FIFA opened an office in Trump Tower — 4,852 square feet on the 17th floor at nearly $38,500 per month, a rate about 28 percent above other tenants in the building — with a lease running until 2032.
What This World Cup Is Really About
The 2026 tournament, co-hosted with Mexico and Canada, arrives against a backdrop of an unpopular war, rising gas prices, and a president whose approval ratings are sliding. "The worse that things get for Trump in terms of popularity ratings or the war in Iran, the more he's going to cling to sports," said Jules Boykoff, author of Red Card: The 2026 World Cup, Sportswashing, and the FIFA Greed Machine.
The Club World Cup final at MetLife Stadium last July offered a preview of what's coming. Trump watched Chelsea beat PSG from a luxury box, then walked onto the field with Infantino as the crowd booed — loudly, consistently, starting during the national anthem and running through the trophy ceremony. Trump waved and smiled. He handed out medals. He lingered long after his usefulness to the moment had expired, to the visible confusion of Chelsea captain Reece James, who told reporters he expected Trump to leave the stage. Midfielder Cole Palmer said simply: "I was a bit confused, yes."
FIFA projects the 2026 World Cup will generate over $9 billion. Fans from Iran, Haiti, Côte d'Ivoire, and Senegal — countries whose nationals Trump's travel restrictions now affect — were promised access when Trump first lobbied for the hosting rights, in letters pledging that "all eligible athletes, officials and fans from all countries around the world would be able to enter the United States without discrimination."
That promise hasn't aged well. Neither have the bets on a smooth, uncontroversial tournament. The odds on this one running without political noise were never good — and they're getting shorter by the month.
