Grass, plastic, and the death of atmosphere

We are seventeen days away from the 2026 World Cup kickoff, and I am still staring at this map of 16 venues wondering how many people actually had to be bribed to get MetLife Stadium on the list. New Jersey in June is a humid swamp, and putting the biggest game in sport on a field that makes professional athletes look like they are playing on a giant piece of green sandpaper is a cosmic joke. FIFA treats the sport like a travelling circus, dragging us into cavernous NFL arenas built for hot dogs and halftime shows rather than genuine, terrace-shaking football magic.

Look at SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles. It is a masterpiece of engineering, sure, but it was designed to maximize corporate revenue for the Rams and the Chargers. When you wedge a regulation football pitch into that concrete bowl, you lose the intimacy that makes a stadium feel like a fortress. Fans are going to be sitting a mile away from the touchline, watching the action on four-sided screens because the players are basically ants in a submarine. It turns a global celebration into a sterile event for people who treat a 1-0 scoreline as an excuse to check their emails.

The Azteca remains the only soul left in the room

If you want to see where football actually lives, skip the shiny American coliseums and get yourself to Mexico City. The Estadio Azteca is the only venue on this list that understands what a World Cup is supposed to feel like. It breathes, it glows with a century of history, and you can feel the pressure of eighty thousand people pinning you to your seat. It is the last stand for the soul of the sport at this tournament, especially when you compare it to a place like Gillette Stadium in Foxborough. I would rather watch a match in a muddy park in Buenos Aires than spend a thousand dollars to sit in a corporate luxury box in New England.

We talk about how this tournament is going to be the biggest and boldest in history, yet we are busy tearing out perfectly good turf to lay down temporary sod that is going to be ripped to shreds after two tackles. It is embarrassing. Manchester City or Real Madrid wouldn’t dream of playing on this kind of rushed grass, but FIFA expects international teams to navigate these patched-up carpets and call it the pinnacle of competition. The surface at MetLife is a disaster waiting to happen, and if a star player tears an ACL because the turf wasn't laid correctly, the blame stays with the suits who prioritized massive capacity over basic player safety.

Corporate cash trumps fan experience every single time

The selection process for these 16 cities was a masterclass in follow-the-money. How did Vancouver or Toronto beat out more traditional football strongholds? It is all about who can write the biggest check to FIFA headquarters. We are trading the rowdy, singing, beer-throwing passion of actual fans for people who are just there to hold a branded souvenir cup and take a selfie for their Instagram stories. I have been to stadiums across Europe where you can’t hear yourself think, but these arenas are built for silence and mid-game business networking.

Even the geography is insulting. Sending teams on seven-hour flights across the continent is a recipe for physical burnout. This isn't a tournament format; it's a frequent flyer program that happens to feature the greatest athletes on the planet. By the time the final rolls around in New York, the players are going to be running on fumes and anti-inflammatories. We are treating the players like products on a conveyor belt, moving them from one climate-controlled box to the next without a second thought for the quality of the football on the pitch.

I will still be waking up at dawn to watch every single match because I am sick in the head for this game. I’ll be glued to the screen when Morocco faces off against Spain, hoping for a tactical masterclass. But don't tell me this is the greatest venue list ever curated. It is a list built by accountants, for investors, inside buildings the sport was never meant to inhabit. Enjoy the spectacle, but don't be surprised when the atmosphere in these 80,000-seat bunkers feels more like a library than a World Cup final.