Review of the United States' Hosting of the 2026 World Cup

Come rain or smokescreen, Sunday will bring the 2026 World Cup to its bombastic end. The load-bearer of the co-hosting North American trio, the United States held 78 of the tournament’s matches across its 11 host cities. Only two contests remain: the third-place game in Miami, and the big one in East Rutherford, New Jersey.

Before the dust truly settles and focus shifts to the six-nation, three-continent centennial in 2030, how did the United States fare in its second swing at hosting a men’s World Cup?

Stadiums

Depending on what you’re looking for, best in class. Few venues have “charm” in the traditional sense, but these sprawling NFL venues packed in plenty of fans, with many designed to retain sound to harness atmosphere. That said, none seem to have figured out how to adequately keep a concourse congregation flowing, with those corridors hardly expanded to account for so many people in one building. B+

Transport

This was an anticipated drawback of holding this tournament in the US, as the nation rebuilt itself throughout the 20th century with clear priorities for the automobile. Some cities stepped up their public transportation options with ad‑hoc buses; others used those initiatives to further eat into riders’ spending budgets. Hours spent slowly progressing to venues, and even more slowly when leaving, were equally costly. D+

Affordability

Do we even need to explain this one? The expectations for ticket pricing made public in United 26’s bid book were in line with what we’ve come to expect for World Cups, with inflation largely justifying modest increases from tournament to tournament. Instead, the 2026 World Cup became an outlier for event pricing of nearly any kind – the first that most of the world could never afford to attend.

Fifa admitted this was a rare chance to spawn an ATM from the tournament’s rib, and that the ludicrously priced inventory wouldn’t be sustainable for future installments on other continents. An unapologetic slap in the face of USsoccer fans. Once Fifa set this precedent, every other stakeholder in the tournament – transport, food and beverage vendors, merchandisers, parking lot operators, taxis, everyone – followed suit. F

Hospitality

On the one hand, the displays of community were incredibly touching. No matter how overpriced the lager was, it was common to see traveling fans from all over the world clinking cups before and after the match. Fifa’s legion of volunteers were smiling faces in neon tracksuits, awfully helpful and welcoming at every turn.

On the other hand, not all fans were quite so well accommodated. Referees and team staffers were among those turned away by Trump administration decisions. That precedent also left the general fan from a Trump-banned nation without a chance of getting around policies. The rationale for those rejections was incredibly flimsy, yet Fifa stood beside the man in the White House.

It will be impossible not to wonder how different the support of Côte d’Ivoire, Haiti, Iran and Senegal could have been had the tourist accessibility of the 1994 World Cup been replicated. A for the spirit fostered by those who could make it, but F for the unprecedented barriers set before qualifiers and customers alike.

Atmosphere

The category with the biggest discrepancies between the best-in-class and the rest. Some – Seattle, Philadelphia and Kansas City – cemented an identity of being organic and sustainable soccer cities. The “World Cup village” atmosphere so many fans covet was alive and well, with accessible public watch parties, signage and flags lining streets, and a constant buzz of excitement that the world’s eyes found their neck of the woods. Others, like Boston – the second capital of Scotland – and the Bay Area either embraced their temporary occupants or had plenty of space and opportunities for locals to keep the party going between matchdays.