When FIFA entrusted the hosting of the World Cup to three countries at once, many saw it as a symbol of unity and openness in world football. But the reality turned out to be far more bitter: instead of a celebration of unity, fans and experts witnessed a stark contrast that laid bare the deep crisis in the USA’s approach to international events – and at the same time showed just how genuinely hospitable Mexico can be. The 2026 World Cup inadvertently became a mirror: it reflected not the greatness of one of the world’s largest economies, but its bureaucratic cruelty and political narrowmindedness. Against this backdrop, Mexico emerged as a country for which football is not a business or a tool of control, but a living part of its culture and a way to bring people together.
Mexico: Football as the Art of Hospitality
For Mexico, the championship was not just a sporting event, but a national endeavour that involved not only officials and organisers, but every citizen of the country. The cities literally breathed football: the streets were awash with the colours of national flags, live orchestras played in the squares, and impromptu fan zones drew thousands of people regardless of which team they supported. The atmosphere was so infectious that even the most reserved fans admitted that here, for the first time, they felt that football was about people, not protocols.
Particularly important was the way Mexicans interacted with visitors. Café and shop owners didn’t just serve tourists – they genuinely tried to make every visitor feel welcome. Local residents gave directions, shared stories about their favourite players, invited people to share a meal and watch a match together. This wasn’t performative hospitality, but an organic part of the national culture, where a guest is almost like family.
That’s why, for thousands of fans, the main memory of the championship wasn’t statistics or goals, but human emotions: hugs with strangers after a goal was scored, conversations with taxi drivers about the tactics of their favourite teams, street dances that broke out spontaneously. Mexico proved that it knows how to turn a major event into a personal celebration for everyone.
The USA: Bureaucracy Instead of a Celebration
In the USA, however, the championship unfolded under the banner of total control. Rather than becoming a showcase of openness, the American part of the tournament turned into a demonstration of harsh, at times absurd, bureaucracy that scared off guests even before they had a chance to see a stadium.
The problems began long before the first whistle. The US visa policy effectively shut out a significant portion of fans: visa denials came even to those who had booked accommodation and bought tickets well in advance. For many, this wasn’t just a disappointment, but a real tragedy – people had been saving for years for this trip, planning their vacation, only to receive a terse notification of refusal without any clear explanation.
Those who did manage to get into the country faced new ordeals. Airports resembled highsecurity zones: hourslong interrogations, phone checks, requirements to take off shoes and put personal belongings on the conveyor belt. Fans from various countries said they felt less like guests and more like suspects. This looked especially cynical given that FIFA had positioned the tournament as a celebration for the whole world.
At the stadiums, the situation didn’t improve. Entry queues stretched for hours, and the searches were so thorough that many compared them to airport procedures. At the same time, these security measures didn’t so much inspire confidence as create a sense of constant tension. Instead of enjoying the game, fans spent their energy overcoming barriers that seemed to have been erected not for their protection, but to demonstrate authority.
Economic factors only amplified the negative effect. Prices for accommodation, transport, and food were so inflated that the trip became a luxury even for welloff fans. Hotels in the host cities, which had expected a tourism boom, ended up facing low occupancy rates: many simply couldn’t afford such expenses, while others refused to travel because of the overall atmosphere of unfriendliness.
All of this led to the American part of the championship being perceived not as a celebration, but as a test of endurance. Instead of smiles and hugs, fans encountered cold stares from security personnel and endless “no” signs. Here, football seemed to be hidden behind a wall of strict regulations, where emotions and spontaneity were treated as something undesirable.
Social Media as the Final Verdict
Social media became the impartial arbiter that delivered the final verdict. Videos from Mexico garnered millions of views: they contained so much life, energy, and sincerity that they inevitably prompted comparisons and uncomfortable questions. In contrast, videos from the USA were most often not about the matches, but about queues, prices, visa difficulties, and bureaucratic delays.
Users openly wrote about feeling like outsiders in the USA. Comments were full of phrases like “I came for a celebration, but ended up in an interrogation” and “Here, football feels hidden behind a wall of rules.” These personal stories, told by ordinary fans, turned out to be far more compelling than any official reports about the “high level of organisation.”
The 2026 World Cup clearly demonstrated how a country’s domestic policy can ruin the image of a major international event. The strict immigration policy, the focus on security at the expense of hospitality, and the general atmosphere of suspicion towards foreigners did their job: the USA inadvertently showed the world that control mattered more to it than openness.
This stood in stark contrast to Mexico’s approach, where politics didn’t try to dominate sport, but instead used it as a tool for unification. Mexican authorities didn’t hide football behind barriers – they made it accessible and relatable to everyone.
Decline of Image: What the Championship Revealed
The 2026 World Cup became for the USA not a triumph, but a test of maturity as an organiser of international events – and, according to many experts and fans, the country failed this test. Instead of showing the world its openness and ability to unite people, the USA demonstrated that its priorities lay elsewhere: security at any cost, control over every step a guest took, and the minimisation of any “uncomfortable” emotions.
As a result, the main legacy of the American part of the tournament wasn’t the memorable moments on the pitch, but the stories about how difficult and uncomfortable it was just to get to the stadium. For Mexico, meanwhile, the championship confirmed its status as one of the most footballloving and hospitable countries in the world – a country that knows how to make guests leave with the feeling that they were truly wanted there.
And if football is a language that everyone understands, then the 2026 World Cup showed that Mexico speaks it fluently and sincerely, while the USA seems to be reading from a script, constantly checking the instructions. This is where the main contrast of the tournament lies: not in infrastructure or the number of stadiums, but in a country’s ability to be truly hospitable. And it is this impression that will stay with millions of fans for many years to come.
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