Campiones: Spain celebrate victory of the 2026 World Cup.
Must Readthat's a wrap
World Cup 2026: Where the beautiful game and the great swindle existed side by side
The football may have stolen the show, but we cannot forget ticketing rip-off, crass commercialism and disgraceful treatment of some players and officials.
LESS THAN A week on from the World Cup there are memories seared into your mind while others have faded quicker than England in a semi-final.
Events not deemed worthy enough have already made way for whatever else you need space for in your football-addled head. Like Scotland fans being heralded in Boston for their positive outlook on life being replaced by Hibernian supporters cursing the life out of their own players after losing 2-0 to Malisheva of Kosovo in the first leg of a Uefa Conference League qualifier earlier this week.
Who knows if a traffic cone was used for more vengeful purposes?
This was one takeaway from the World Cup. On the whole it’s a much friendlier, open version of the sport that occupies our daily thoughts. That sounds like it’s a good thing until you experience it.
Part of the fallout, as always, ends with a reduction of thought. There are people out there still debating (online, of course) whether it was the best World Cup ever. Or why it was crap and pointless. It means different things to different people so it’s an argument that will go round and round in circles like poor Jeremy Doku down the wing for Belgium.
There are arguments about the standard of games from a certain point on in the knockout stages. These people, you’d have to imagine, must fall asleep with the glare of the laptop on their faces while updating the spreadsheet of determining quality which will never see the light of day.
Spain’s semi-final win over France was one of the most graceful executions on a football pitch ever witnessed, by the way, while the manner of England’s retreat was so gloriously insecure that it might just set the country back decades. So far they can talk about 1966 again.
The word jeopardy is being bandied about a lot. The games need jeopardy. There weren’t enough moments of jeopardy. Jeopardy was lacking in qualification. I will find myself in great jeopardy if I cannot think of five more things we learned from the last six weeks to fill out the word count.
Joy and despair
This World Cup will go down in history for reasons of infamy (Argentina in the final) and brilliance (Lionel Messi in every game to get them there), not to mention scenes of joy (Roberto Lopes and Cape Verde) matched only by despairing events (Somali referee Omar Artan being turned away at the US border, Iran’s treatment over entry and re-entry to games) that make you question your own place in the world and the privilege enjoyed purely by the colour of your skin or place of birth.
These questions gnaw away for a time and then you experience a numbing agent for such social introspection like The Azteca in Mexico City and you only feel fortunate to be on this planet, even if it somehow feels like a football ground bordering on the supernatural.
The Azteca Stadium. Alamy Stock Photo
Alamy Stock Photo
It was one of eight stadiums visited by The 42 for 17 games across the six weeks and, by a considerable distance, the most affecting. There were other, shiner stadiums, ones with air conditioning and escalators and working wifi, but what the Azteca lacked in online connectivity it made up for in a glorious surge of human connection.
Mexico City is sinking at a rate of between 25 to 35 centimetres each year and that process might have been sped up due to the levels of movement at the Azteca over the past six weeks.
This was not an isolated bowl on the outskirts of nowhere. It was the heart of a functioning local ecosystem, a place where you could eat homemade €1 tacos on one corner and get chased around another if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Not that it ever felt that way. Friendly, welcoming faces were everywhere in Mexico City, and some food and drinks with members of GAA club Los San Patricios provided one of the themes that ran throughout the tournament: belonging.
Connection
We all search for it and at the World Cup it seems to be an easy find, yet for some Americans during the tournament this was a time to go into hiding. On the day that Colombia played Uzbekistan on 17 June in Mexico City, The 42 was in East Boston between attending games featuring Norway-Iraq and Brazil-Haiti.
Maverick Square has a large South American community and two pillars are Maria and Victor. They are husband and wife and run a store that ensures connection (that word again) to home is constant.
Maria and Victor from Colombia.
They were smiling and happy when we met, excitedly inviting your correspondent to a block party to enjoy that evening’s game. Maria managed to nab a position as a Fifa volunteer in Boston Stadium but as she spoke of the pride and joy she holds in her neighbourhood, she also detailed how ICE raids had been happening with people taken off the streets right up until the tournament started.
These immigration agents seemed to go into hibernation during the World Cup but those still fearing for their safety were not so fortunate. Maria and Victor explained how some people refused to leave their homes and detailed how information would be passed via a WhatsApp group about the location of ICE.
We saw a version of America over the last six weeks but it’s unlikely to resemble the one that those who remained must endure. Indeed, on a Boston subway train from Cambridge towards MIT on the day of the England-Ghana game there were fans trading stories of prices paid for tickets, across from a homeless man sprawled out on the seats opposite with a foldout chair full of clothes and food.
Some of those early visa issues were beginning to drift from view as the tournament went on, but then Fifa and the US government reminded us all of their tangled priorities during the Balogun Affair.
Crossed a red line
Such a clear breach of Fifa statues and intrusion of influence by President Donald Trump’s White House may have led to a funny Belgian meme celebrating victory, but the ramifications for what could come down the line are stark.
As Uefa said in a statement within 24 hours, the decision by Fifa’s disciplinary committee to suspend the USA striker’s red card, following phone calls from President Trump to Fifa president Gianni Infantino “crossed a red line”.
Advertisement
The Times of London subsequently reported that only one member of 18 from the Fifa disciplinary committee took the decision to allow Balogun to play. That was chairman Mohammad Al Kamali of UAE.
Combined with the introduction of hydration breaks in each half on a whim (Forbes estimates US broadcaster Fox Sports earned $250 million alone) and defying the International Football Association Board’s rule for half-time not to exceed 15 minutes, it means that vacuous cluster-f**k of a show during the interval of the final cannot be dismissed as merely some sickly version of Americana never to be seen again.
Unless there are serious consequences to come for Infantino, this is a clear sign of the future.
“And a big thank you to the fans, we don’t know how many exactly… but this will be the biggest, the best, the greatest. The biggest event probably in the history of mankind,” the Fifa president said on the eve of the tournament.
“And six billion people will watch at home… For free!”
And that brings us to the dynamic pricing match ticket racket, co-ordinated by Fifa who also created their own re-sale platform to capitalise on American laws which allowed them to recoup an additional 30% between buyers and sellers.
Even before a ball was kicked fans realised tickets they had purchased were not in sections previously stated, leading to the attorneys general of New York and New Jersey launching an investigation into Fifa’s practices.
Infantino beamed that the governing body could earn upwards of $13 billion through this World Cup and ticket revenue will be a significant portion – some estimates put the final alone at between $680 million to $1bn.
Gage and Ryan are brothers from New Jersey. Their Dad is from Colchester in England so they sought out games for both countries during the tournament.
Gage and Ryan.
They managed to succeed with tickets for the USA’s opener with Paraguay as well as England’s group game with Ghana in Boston and the semi-final with Argentina.
Ryan estimates costs for tickets alone in the region of $15,000.
“The prices are ridiculous. It’s a fucking joke. Money-grabbing fucks at Fifa . . . that’s the thing. [This happened] massively because of the American market, 100 per cent. If this is Europe it’s nowhere near it. They’d kick off. Football is for the people… It’s just shit,” Ryan says, his accent flowing beautifully between both sides of the Atlantic for added effect.
On the flip side, at the semi-final between Spain and France, a family from the city of Irapuato in the Mexican region of Guajanato donned Spain jerseys to show their support in Dallas.
Alejandro, Jaimee, Fermin and the two Luises were invited as guests to five games and would also be at the final.
Manny, another Spain fan, who was born in Venezula but raised in Dallas, spent $1,500 on his semi-final ticket only because “I was able to afford it”.
Manny.
Friends Eshan, Sajar, Junarjan and Shubham are originally from India but have lived in Atlanta and Texas for the past five years.
Eshan, Sajar, Junarjan and Shubham.
They’re in France jerseys and planned on getting to “five or six” games during the tournament, instead they paid $400 for England v DR Congo in the round of 32 and $1,500 for Spain v France in the semi.
Henry, a Canadian from Toronto, paid €2,500 each for him and his girlfriend and another €1,000 apiece in Kansas City for Argentina v Switzerland.
“It’s a bit expensive because of dynamic pricing. It shouldn’t have been this expensive. We can justify it but it’s still a lot. The Canada game [I looked at] was Portugal v Croatia because of the e-sale limit. It’s harder to get on the open market so ends up on black market.
Diego and Miguel from Mexico paid $1,000 to attend all of the games in Mexico City as well as France v Paraguay in Philadelphia, followed by $5,000 between them for the semi-final with Spain.
Diego and Miguel.
“We can afford to do it now but it’s not like we could spend this money every summer,” Diego says. “We have used some savings for matches… There’s so much hype. It’s totally worth it because we never paid the extra prices. We paid the resale price.”
Daniel, from Munich, paid $600 for a ticket to the France v Spain semi-final on the day of the game just outside the Dallas Stadium. He returned to the United States from Germany after attending all of his country’s games.
“I got lucky with the $60 tickets,” he says, a rare triumph to be held up by Infantino in the name of Fifa affordability.
Do not for a second think such pricing structures will not be sought in four years’ time.
Cousins Brian and Nick are originally from Chicago and flew to Dallas for the semi-final from the west coast after a friend was able to secure $2,600 tickets.
Brian and Nick.
Their fathers are from County Down and moved to the Windy City while Brian, whose mother is from Mayo, is wearing a vintage Cork City jersey because of his love of Roy Keane (we opted not to go deep on Cobh Ramblers chat).
He explains how the three games they got to in Seattle cost an average of $700. Egypt against Belgium was the cheapest at $130 with the rest priced dynamically through Fifa’s secondary market.
“If Ireland qualified we’d have all been at those games,” Brian says.
A cliché, perhaps, but think of the stress put on Credit Unions if that was the case.
On the fringes
On a more serious topic, experiencing the World Cup first hand for the first time was a sobering reminder of everything Ireland continues to miss out on by not being involved.
Not just for the fans’ social media clips or viral moments, but the sense of achievement and pride that qualifying would bring.
The longer it goes – Infantino may have dangled the carrot of a 64-team edition in 2030 but that won’t be to the benefit of Europe – the less serious this country can credibly say it is about the game.
We’re not just on the fringes, we have become so distant and remote as to be completely dispensable to the international game. About as far away from relevance as the Boston Stadium (in Foxborough) was to the city of Boston.
About an hour before kick off at the New York/New Jersey Stadium last Sunday I took my seat in the media tribune (Block 201, Desk 200, Seat A) behind the goal where Ferran Torres later scored to win the World Cup for Spain against Argentina.
I had a gnawing emptiness in my stomach that felt like a deep hole, yearning for home.
I felt a tingle at the back of my left shoulder and it was then that a sharp jolt from within my body surged through me, forcing my body to stiffen like I was preparing to be placed in a bobsled. Or a coffin.
Whatever this was happening to me, it was not an ideal time to be quite honest. At least it temporarily stopped me worrying about the lack of wifi before working at my first World Cup final.
I decided to close my eyes and breathe.
I don’t know how long they were closed for but I do know that I ended up being transported back years with every breath.
I was nine again in my blue and white Esker Celtic jersey. I was running down the road with my dad after a match in Hermitage Park in Lucan to get home for a fry with my mam. The emptiness no longer seemed so powerful as I could taste the Granby sausages.
I thought of them both (my dad in his Transit Van, my mam a Ford Focus) taking turns ferrying me to cover different sports around west Dublin from the age of 15 for the Lucan, Blanch and Clondalkin Gazette.
Football matches back in Hermo, GAA games at St Peregrine’s (the club where a girl who would become my wife 15 years later was a member) hockey in King’s Hospital and rugby (yes, really) in Barnhall.
Visions
My eyes were still closed and that chasm in my belly was being filled by wistful memories. I thought about three of my grandparents no longer with us and the one remaining with an infectious love of life who sent me a WhatsApp message on the morning of the game.
These beautiful visions of the past and present provide comfort and suddenly I opened my eyes to find a sense of peace. Anticipation and excitement took over, and then the game began to stifle such fervour.
Regardless, what was obvious is that this was a World Cup that brought joy and struggle in equal measure, with its undesirable future clear to see unless there is a co-ordinated and willing push for change in how the game is governed.
If that happens then this will be the most important World Cup for generations to come.
To embed this post, copy the code below on your site
Close
Comments
This is YOUR comments community. Stay civil, stay constructive, stay on topic.
Please familiarise yourself with our comments policy
here
before taking part.
World Cup 2026: Where the beautiful game and the great swindle existed side by side
LESS THAN A week on from the World Cup there are memories seared into your mind while others have faded quicker than England in a semi-final.
Events not deemed worthy enough have already made way for whatever else you need space for in your football-addled head. Like Scotland fans being heralded in Boston for their positive outlook on life being replaced by Hibernian supporters cursing the life out of their own players after losing 2-0 to Malisheva of Kosovo in the first leg of a Uefa Conference League qualifier earlier this week.
Who knows if a traffic cone was used for more vengeful purposes?
This was one takeaway from the World Cup. On the whole it’s a much friendlier, open version of the sport that occupies our daily thoughts. That sounds like it’s a good thing until you experience it.
Part of the fallout, as always, ends with a reduction of thought. There are people out there still debating (online, of course) whether it was the best World Cup ever. Or why it was crap and pointless. It means different things to different people so it’s an argument that will go round and round in circles like poor Jeremy Doku down the wing for Belgium.
There are arguments about the standard of games from a certain point on in the knockout stages. These people, you’d have to imagine, must fall asleep with the glare of the laptop on their faces while updating the spreadsheet of determining quality which will never see the light of day.
Spain’s semi-final win over France was one of the most graceful executions on a football pitch ever witnessed, by the way, while the manner of England’s retreat was so gloriously insecure that it might just set the country back decades. So far they can talk about 1966 again.
The word jeopardy is being bandied about a lot. The games need jeopardy. There weren’t enough moments of jeopardy. Jeopardy was lacking in qualification. I will find myself in great jeopardy if I cannot think of five more things we learned from the last six weeks to fill out the word count.
Joy and despair
This World Cup will go down in history for reasons of infamy (Argentina in the final) and brilliance (Lionel Messi in every game to get them there), not to mention scenes of joy (Roberto Lopes and Cape Verde) matched only by despairing events (Somali referee Omar Artan being turned away at the US border, Iran’s treatment over entry and re-entry to games) that make you question your own place in the world and the privilege enjoyed purely by the colour of your skin or place of birth.
These questions gnaw away for a time and then you experience a numbing agent for such social introspection like The Azteca in Mexico City and you only feel fortunate to be on this planet, even if it somehow feels like a football ground bordering on the supernatural.
It was one of eight stadiums visited by The 42 for 17 games across the six weeks and, by a considerable distance, the most affecting. There were other, shiner stadiums, ones with air conditioning and escalators and working wifi, but what the Azteca lacked in online connectivity it made up for in a glorious surge of human connection.
Mexico City is sinking at a rate of between 25 to 35 centimetres each year and that process might have been sped up due to the levels of movement at the Azteca over the past six weeks.
This was not an isolated bowl on the outskirts of nowhere. It was the heart of a functioning local ecosystem, a place where you could eat homemade €1 tacos on one corner and get chased around another if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Not that it ever felt that way. Friendly, welcoming faces were everywhere in Mexico City, and some food and drinks with members of GAA club Los San Patricios provided one of the themes that ran throughout the tournament: belonging.
Connection
We all search for it and at the World Cup it seems to be an easy find, yet for some Americans during the tournament this was a time to go into hiding. On the day that Colombia played Uzbekistan on 17 June in Mexico City, The 42 was in East Boston between attending games featuring Norway-Iraq and Brazil-Haiti.
Maverick Square has a large South American community and two pillars are Maria and Victor. They are husband and wife and run a store that ensures connection (that word again) to home is constant.
They were smiling and happy when we met, excitedly inviting your correspondent to a block party to enjoy that evening’s game. Maria managed to nab a position as a Fifa volunteer in Boston Stadium but as she spoke of the pride and joy she holds in her neighbourhood, she also detailed how ICE raids had been happening with people taken off the streets right up until the tournament started.
These immigration agents seemed to go into hibernation during the World Cup but those still fearing for their safety were not so fortunate. Maria and Victor explained how some people refused to leave their homes and detailed how information would be passed via a WhatsApp group about the location of ICE.
We saw a version of America over the last six weeks but it’s unlikely to resemble the one that those who remained must endure. Indeed, on a Boston subway train from Cambridge towards MIT on the day of the England-Ghana game there were fans trading stories of prices paid for tickets, across from a homeless man sprawled out on the seats opposite with a foldout chair full of clothes and food.
Some of those early visa issues were beginning to drift from view as the tournament went on, but then Fifa and the US government reminded us all of their tangled priorities during the Balogun Affair.
Crossed a red line
Such a clear breach of Fifa statues and intrusion of influence by President Donald Trump’s White House may have led to a funny Belgian meme celebrating victory, but the ramifications for what could come down the line are stark.
As Uefa said in a statement within 24 hours, the decision by Fifa’s disciplinary committee to suspend the USA striker’s red card, following phone calls from President Trump to Fifa president Gianni Infantino “crossed a red line”.
The Times of London subsequently reported that only one member of 18 from the Fifa disciplinary committee took the decision to allow Balogun to play. That was chairman Mohammad Al Kamali of UAE.
Combined with the introduction of hydration breaks in each half on a whim (Forbes estimates US broadcaster Fox Sports earned $250 million alone) and defying the International Football Association Board’s rule for half-time not to exceed 15 minutes, it means that vacuous cluster-f**k of a show during the interval of the final cannot be dismissed as merely some sickly version of Americana never to be seen again.
Unless there are serious consequences to come for Infantino, this is a clear sign of the future.
“And a big thank you to the fans, we don’t know how many exactly… but this will be the biggest, the best, the greatest. The biggest event probably in the history of mankind,” the Fifa president said on the eve of the tournament.
“And six billion people will watch at home… For free!”
And that brings us to the dynamic pricing match ticket racket, co-ordinated by Fifa who also created their own re-sale platform to capitalise on American laws which allowed them to recoup an additional 30% between buyers and sellers.
Even before a ball was kicked fans realised tickets they had purchased were not in sections previously stated, leading to the attorneys general of New York and New Jersey launching an investigation into Fifa’s practices.
Infantino beamed that the governing body could earn upwards of $13 billion through this World Cup and ticket revenue will be a significant portion – some estimates put the final alone at between $680 million to $1bn.
Gage and Ryan are brothers from New Jersey. Their Dad is from Colchester in England so they sought out games for both countries during the tournament.
They managed to succeed with tickets for the USA’s opener with Paraguay as well as England’s group game with Ghana in Boston and the semi-final with Argentina.
Ryan estimates costs for tickets alone in the region of $15,000.
“The prices are ridiculous. It’s a fucking joke. Money-grabbing fucks at Fifa . . . that’s the thing. [This happened] massively because of the American market, 100 per cent. If this is Europe it’s nowhere near it. They’d kick off. Football is for the people… It’s just shit,” Ryan says, his accent flowing beautifully between both sides of the Atlantic for added effect.
On the flip side, at the semi-final between Spain and France, a family from the city of Irapuato in the Mexican region of Guajanato donned Spain jerseys to show their support in Dallas.
Alejandro, Jaimee, Fermin and the two Luises were invited as guests to five games and would also be at the final.
Manny, another Spain fan, who was born in Venezula but raised in Dallas, spent $1,500 on his semi-final ticket only because “I was able to afford it”.
Friends Eshan, Sajar, Junarjan and Shubham are originally from India but have lived in Atlanta and Texas for the past five years.
They’re in France jerseys and planned on getting to “five or six” games during the tournament, instead they paid $400 for England v DR Congo in the round of 32 and $1,500 for Spain v France in the semi.
Henry, a Canadian from Toronto, paid €2,500 each for him and his girlfriend and another €1,000 apiece in Kansas City for Argentina v Switzerland.
“It’s a bit expensive because of dynamic pricing. It shouldn’t have been this expensive. We can justify it but it’s still a lot. The Canada game [I looked at] was Portugal v Croatia because of the e-sale limit. It’s harder to get on the open market so ends up on black market.
Diego and Miguel from Mexico paid $1,000 to attend all of the games in Mexico City as well as France v Paraguay in Philadelphia, followed by $5,000 between them for the semi-final with Spain.
“We can afford to do it now but it’s not like we could spend this money every summer,” Diego says. “We have used some savings for matches… There’s so much hype. It’s totally worth it because we never paid the extra prices. We paid the resale price.”
Daniel, from Munich, paid $600 for a ticket to the France v Spain semi-final on the day of the game just outside the Dallas Stadium. He returned to the United States from Germany after attending all of his country’s games.
“I got lucky with the $60 tickets,” he says, a rare triumph to be held up by Infantino in the name of Fifa affordability.
Do not for a second think such pricing structures will not be sought in four years’ time.
Cousins Brian and Nick are originally from Chicago and flew to Dallas for the semi-final from the west coast after a friend was able to secure $2,600 tickets.
Their fathers are from County Down and moved to the Windy City while Brian, whose mother is from Mayo, is wearing a vintage Cork City jersey because of his love of Roy Keane (we opted not to go deep on Cobh Ramblers chat).
He explains how the three games they got to in Seattle cost an average of $700. Egypt against Belgium was the cheapest at $130 with the rest priced dynamically through Fifa’s secondary market.
“If Ireland qualified we’d have all been at those games,” Brian says.
A cliché, perhaps, but think of the stress put on Credit Unions if that was the case.
On the fringes
On a more serious topic, experiencing the World Cup first hand for the first time was a sobering reminder of everything Ireland continues to miss out on by not being involved.
Not just for the fans’ social media clips or viral moments, but the sense of achievement and pride that qualifying would bring.
The longer it goes – Infantino may have dangled the carrot of a 64-team edition in 2030 but that won’t be to the benefit of Europe – the less serious this country can credibly say it is about the game.
We’re not just on the fringes, we have become so distant and remote as to be completely dispensable to the international game. About as far away from relevance as the Boston Stadium (in Foxborough) was to the city of Boston.
About an hour before kick off at the New York/New Jersey Stadium last Sunday I took my seat in the media tribune (Block 201, Desk 200, Seat A) behind the goal where Ferran Torres later scored to win the World Cup for Spain against Argentina.
I had a gnawing emptiness in my stomach that felt like a deep hole, yearning for home.
I felt a tingle at the back of my left shoulder and it was then that a sharp jolt from within my body surged through me, forcing my body to stiffen like I was preparing to be placed in a bobsled. Or a coffin.
Whatever this was happening to me, it was not an ideal time to be quite honest. At least it temporarily stopped me worrying about the lack of wifi before working at my first World Cup final.
I decided to close my eyes and breathe.
I don’t know how long they were closed for but I do know that I ended up being transported back years with every breath.
I was nine again in my blue and white Esker Celtic jersey. I was running down the road with my dad after a match in Hermitage Park in Lucan to get home for a fry with my mam. The emptiness no longer seemed so powerful as I could taste the Granby sausages.
I thought of them both (my dad in his Transit Van, my mam a Ford Focus) taking turns ferrying me to cover different sports around west Dublin from the age of 15 for the Lucan, Blanch and Clondalkin Gazette.
Football matches back in Hermo, GAA games at St Peregrine’s (the club where a girl who would become my wife 15 years later was a member) hockey in King’s Hospital and rugby (yes, really) in Barnhall.
Visions
My eyes were still closed and that chasm in my belly was being filled by wistful memories. I thought about three of my grandparents no longer with us and the one remaining with an infectious love of life who sent me a WhatsApp message on the morning of the game.
These beautiful visions of the past and present provide comfort and suddenly I opened my eyes to find a sense of peace. Anticipation and excitement took over, and then the game began to stifle such fervour.
Regardless, what was obvious is that this was a World Cup that brought joy and struggle in equal measure, with its undesirable future clear to see unless there is a co-ordinated and willing push for change in how the game is governed.
If that happens then this will be the most important World Cup for generations to come.
To embed this post, copy the code below on your site
Fifa World Cup 2026 Soccer that's a wrap World Cup Wrap