At the 2025 Club World Cup final at MetLife Stadium, Donald Trump walked onto the pitch after Chelsea's win, medals in hand, and simply refused to leave. Chelsea captain Reece James watched him linger and told reporters he expected Trump to exit. He didn't. "I was a bit confused, yes," midfielder Cole Palmer added. That confusion is the most honest summary of Trump's relationship with football anyone has managed.
The backstory is stranger than the image. Back at New York Military Academy, a teenage Trump ditched football for the varsity soccer team — a squad packed with the sons of Latin American diplomats and military officers: Colombians, Peruvians, players from Mexico, Costa Rica, Argentina, Venezuela. Latin music on the team bus. Pregame chants in Spanish. Teammate Alfred Harrison recalled that "you didn't really get the ball unless you spoke Spanish."
Harrison remembers Trump as a functional defender — back line, decent long ball, physically committed. "That guy had an abundance of testosterone, that's for sure." The team finished 3-8 that season. Trump hasn't shown much interest in the game since.
FIFA's most valuable relationship
Which makes his current role as America's soccer-in-chief all the more revealing. This isn't about love of the game. It's about spectacle, brand, and the global stage that comes with hosting a World Cup.
FIFA president Gianni Infantino has understood this from the start. Since Trump's return to the White House, Infantino has delivered a blue FIFA jersey, a U.S. men's national team jersey, a golden-framed photo of the two of them, a red card, a yellow card, two soccer balls, an oversize World Cup final ticket, and — when Trump missed out on the Nobel Peace Prize — a specially created FIFA Peace Prize: a custom golden trophy, a gold medal, and a bound certificate. Infantino has reportedly visited the Oval Office at least half a dozen times. He attended Trump's inauguration, sat courtside at a UFC fight, and showed up to Melania Trump's Kennedy Center film premiere.
FIFA also signed a lease for office space in Trump Tower — 4,852 square feet on the 17th floor, paying nearly $38,500 a month, about 28 percent above what other tenants in the building pay. The lease runs to October 2032. Neither FIFA nor the Trump Organization would say what work is being done there.
Infantino even brought the actual 2022 World Cup trophy to the Oval Office and told Trump — who asked to keep it — that only winners were allowed to touch it. "And since you are a winner, of course, you can as well touch it." Trump had to give it back.
What this World Cup is really about
The 2026 World Cup arrives against a backdrop of an unpopular war, rising gas prices, and a president whose approval ratings are sliding toward the midterms. Jules Boykoff, author of Red Card: The 2026 World Cup, Sportswashing, and the FIFA Greed Machine, put it plainly: "The worse that things get for Trump in terms of popularity ratings or the war in Iran, the more he's going to cling to sports."
Trump once lobbied Infantino to award the tournament to the U.S., Mexico, and Canada, signing letters promising that "all eligible athletes, officials and fans from all countries around the world would be able to enter the United States without discrimination." Fans from Iran, Haiti, Côte d'Ivoire, and Senegal now face travel restrictions.
When asked to name his favorite player, Trump chose Pelé — then acknowledged it was a slightly outdated pick. Golf caddies, it turns out, used to call Trump "Pelé" for how often he kicked the ball on the course. He has since hosted both Messi and Ronaldo at the White House on separate visits, because if you can't pick a favorite player, you collect them all.
Infantino wants the $9 billion in projected revenue FIFA has forecast. Trump wants the cameras, the trophies, and the reflected glow of the world's biggest sporting event. The fans at MetLife booed every time his face appeared on the big screen — through the national anthem, through the medal ceremony, through to the final whistle. Trump waved and smiled through all of it.
Sixty-odd years after chanting "¡Nosotros! ¡Nosotros!" on a team bus with Spanish-speaking teammates, he's hosting a World Cup already tangled in travel bans, political controversy, and a partnership with FIFA that raises questions neither side will answer. The 3-8 record from military school feels weirdly appropriate.
