"As an ordinary person you really have no chance of affording this tournament." That quote, from a Germany-based US fan, might be the most honest thing said about the 2026 FIFA World Cup so far.
The tournament expands to 48 teams and 104 matches — more football, theoretically more access. In practice, the opposite. Category 1 final tickets have jumped from $6,370 in the first sales window to $10,990. That's an 85% rise before a ball has been kicked. Some are already being resold for $20,000. Mexico's opening match against South Africa in Mexico City — a co-host fixture — costs $2,985, up from $1,825.
For context: a Brazilian fan who spent around $10,000 attending the Qatar edition is looking at $40,000+ for 2026, and that's before adding any matches that don't involve Brazil. Qatar was already a stretch for most fans from the Global South. This is a different category of exclusion entirely.
Visa bonds, ICE and the small print of 'everyone is welcome'
FIFA President Gianni Infantino declared in 2025 that "everyone will be welcome" at the World Cup. The US State Department had other ideas. Last month, it added 12 more countries to a list requiring visa applicants to post bonds of up to $15,000 — technically refundable, but that's not the point. Qualifying side Tunisia is on the list. Algeria and debutants Cape Verde were already on it. Fans from Senegal, Haiti and Ivory Coast face the same barrier unless they hold an alternative passport.
Then there's the Amnesty International report released this week, which upgraded the tournament from FIFA's own "medium risk" classification to something considerably more serious. It flags human rights and immigration risks across all three host nations — violence and police presence in Mexico, homelessness crises in Canada, and restrictions on protest rights across the United States, where ICE's expanded enforcement operations add a layer of genuine legal risk for traveling fans from dozens of countries.
The geography matters here. This isn't a tournament in one city where fans can navigate a single set of rules. It sprawls across three countries, three legal systems, and three sets of border controls.
Italy, Iran, and the chaos still to come
Italy missed out again — their third consecutive World Cup absence — losing a playoff final on penalties to 65th-ranked Bosnia-Herzegovina, whose coach Sergej Barbarez is, remarkably, both a former Bundesliga footballer and a twice-finalist at the World Series of Poker. He knocked out Wales the same way in the previous playoff round. Penalties against Barbarez's Bosnia look like a losing proposition.
Russell Crowe, who has Italian roots, called it "a dark dawn for Italy" on X. He might want to hold that grief. Iran's participation is increasingly uncertain, and if they withdraw — voluntarily or otherwise — FIFA could replace them in Group G. Italy, as the highest-ranked eliminated side from the European playoffs, would be the obvious candidate. FIFA's regulations give them the flexibility to make that call, and they've never been shy about using it.
The commercial picture, at least, is unambiguous. Revenues are projected to reach $10.9 billion — a 56% increase on Qatar 2022. Broadcasting rights are expected to top $4.2 billion for the first time. Matchday revenues could hit $3 billion, compared to $950 million in Qatar. A 216% jump.
The money is there. The question is who it's being made for — and who gets left behind to generate it.
