Every four years, the entire planet magically comes together for a summer filled with festivities and celebration. Streets are packed, stadiums sell out and fans support their countries in full voice. 

The reason? The FIFA World Cup — the most prestigious competition in world sport, and one that everyone can be a part of. At least, that’s what it promises.

This year, the party comes to North America. The United States — a country where soccer is still growing in popularity, and where sporting events have long carried price tags to match — will serve as the primary host, a choice that carries enormous significance for the sport’s future.

For many fans, watching their country play a World Cup match is already an unrealistic dream, let alone hosting one. So, as a lifelong supporter of the United States national team, you could only imagine the look on my face after hearing that two of the U.S.’s group stage matches would be played at SoFi Stadium.

Watching a World Cup match live has always been at the top of my bucket list, but stepping into that stadium is a privilege few are fortunate enough to experience. I thought I was one of them.

Upon checking availability for the U.S.’s opener against Paraguay, I was instantly greeted with four-digit prices — and not for pitchside seats or hospitality suites. Category 3 seats, some of the cheapest in the stadium, were going for over $1,000. Ninety minutes of soccer — $11 per minute.

For context, a Category 3 group stage ticket at the 2022 edition in Qatar had a fixed price of $69, regardless of changes in demand or market conditions. FIFA — which would never refuse an opportunity to make more money — has since abandoned that model, shifting toward dynamic pricing — meaning the most affordable tickets went on sale long before the draw had taken place. By the time groups were confirmed, those tickets were already gone.

Gianni Infantino, the president of FIFA, attempted to justify the organization’s blatant price gouging. “If you were to sell tickets at the price which is too low, these tickets will be resold at a much higher price,” he said at the Milken Institute conference in Beverly Hills.

Admittedly, Infantino’s claim speaks volumes about the harsh reality of ticket scalping in the U.S. Unlike most of the world, where ticket resale is subject to strict consumer protections — and, in some cases, illegal altogether — jurisdiction is left entirely to individual U.S. states. With no federal entity keeping them in check, third-party platforms like Ticketmaster, StubHub and SeatGeek possess free rein over the market and can keep prices high.

Despite this, Infantino conveniently forgets to mention that FIFA is no innocent bystander to the scalping epidemic — they’re taking advantage of it. FIFA operates an official resale platform, collecting a 15% fee from both buyer and seller for each transaction. They profit from the initial sale, and again when the same ticket is flipped 10 times its value. 

Most shockingly, FIFA has implemented price caps on its resale platform in Mexico to comply with Mexican ticketing standards, lowering costs for fans. However, they have made no such concession for the United States or Canada. This platform is available worldwide, meaning supporters in Lisbon, Seoul or Johannesburg face the same four-digit price tags as everyone else. 

FIFA has demonstrated its capability to protect fans from predatory pricing; it simply chooses not to.

By the time you consider lodging, airfare and transit/parking costs, it begs the question: Who is this World Cup actually for? FIFA’s excessive price gouging has already frozen out countless passionate, die-hard fans who will not be able to represent their nations at the tournament.

Football, at its core, is a working-class sport. It originated as the people’s pastime: played in empty fields, watched in packed terraces and sustained by communities who have given it purpose. Playing demands nothing more than a ball and a dream, and for many legends of the game, that was all they needed.

By 2026, football has become a commercialized shell of itself. At the club level, billionaire owners and boardroom directors have quietly taken the wheel from managers and players. Even the World Cup, football’s most prized possession, has succumbed to the same fate.

Those same corporate guests and celebrity attendees are not the ones being excluded from matches; they simply fill the space of the face-painted, chanting supporters who truly deserve seats.

This isn’t where the exclusion starts — youth clubs and academies in the United States are among the most expensive in the world, placing the sport out of reach for millions of talented young Americans long before they consider buying a World Cup ticket.

In theory, the World Cup on home soil was a once-in-a-generation opportunity to change all of that and celebrate the history of the sport. Forty-eight countries, millions of diverse fans and a month of endless celebration — the perfect catalyst to engage new communities, inspire young generations and finally grow the beautiful game in the U.S. the right way. 

Instead, FIFA continues to sacrifice people for profit, turning its back on those who made the sport what it is today.