Trump told Iran's squad they should stay away "for its own life and safety." FIFA scheduled two of their group games in Los Angeles and Seattle anyway. The Iranians are based in Tijuana, crossing the border to play and leaving immediately after. Their fan ticket allocation has been revoked. Several delegation members still don't have visas.
That is the reality of the 2026 World Cup for one of its 48 participating nations — and it's happening while FIFA boss Gianni Infantino tells fans unhappy about ticket prices to "chill, relax."
A Somali referee, turned away at the airport
Omar Abdulkadir Artan was Africa's referee of the year for 2025. He was going to become the first Somali to officiate a World Cup match. Instead, he was sent back from Miami International Airport. An unnamed Trump administration official cited his "association with suspected members of terror organisations" — a claim with no detail, no evidence, no process.
FIFA's response? It cannot override host country rules. That's it. The body that spent years defending Qatar's human rights record couldn't even publicly condemn the treatment of its own official.
Somalia is on the US visa and travel ban list. So are several other countries. The Uzbekistan and Senegal squads were searched on an airport tarmac with metal detectors and sniffer dogs. Andrew Giuliani, head of the White House World Cup task force, put it plainly: "We want to make sure we are not going to allow a soccer tournament to be the opportunity for terrorists to potentially get in the country."
Why FIFA won't push back
When Russia hosted in 2018, FIFA pressured them to loosen immigration restrictions. It worked. With the US, there's been no such leverage — and the reason isn't hard to find. Breaking into the American sports market is the central ambition of Infantino's FIFA. The US doesn't need the World Cup economically. FIFA does. That power imbalance explains everything.
Unlike every previous tournament, where the World Cup effectively took over the host nation, this time the host nation has taken over the World Cup.
The Qatar edition had its critics — loud ones, on human rights and migrant labour and LGBTQ laws. This time the protests are quieter. A shrug, a perfunctory comment, and everyone moves on. Whether that's fatigue or resignation is hard to say.
- Iran playing group matches in the US while being based in Mexico
- Fan tickets for Iranian supporters revoked entirely
- Africa's 2025 referee of the year denied entry without transparent justification
- FIFA unable — or unwilling — to intervene on any of it
- ICE raids explicitly not ruled out inside stadiums
Mexico and Canada, the other two host nations sharing just 22 of 104 matches between them, are quietly carrying the tournament's goodwill. Mexico is hosting a World Cup for the third time. Teachers were on strike on opening day, protesters clashed with police near the Azteca — the country has its problems. But it knows how to make the world feel welcome. Canada too.
On the pitch, Messi, Ronaldo, Mbappe and Yamal will generate enough noise to drown most of this out. Underdogs will surprise people. New heroes will emerge. The football will be good.
But the host that controls the tournament has made it clear who it considers worth welcoming — and who it doesn't. For anyone betting on the US using this moment to soften its image internationally, the early evidence is not encouraging.
