In 100 days the biggest football tournament in history kicks off. 48 teams, 104 games, three countries. The most ambitious World Cup ever staged.
And right now it feels like it could fall apart before a single ball is kicked.
Let’s go through it. Because the list of problems surrounding the 2026 World Cup is not short.
Start with Iran. The US and Israel launched coordinated military strikes last weekend, killing Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. In response, Iran has launched attacks against US allies and assets across the Middle East. And Iran are scheduled to play their World Cup group games in Inglewood, California, and Seattle.
Mehdi Taj, the president of Iran’s football federation, said it plainly: “What is certain is that after this attack, we cannot be expected to look forward to the World Cup with hope.” He added that high-ranking officials within the country will make the final decision on whether they compete. Professor Simon Chadwick, a leading expert on the geopolitics of sport, told Al Jazeera that Iran’s participation is in “serious doubt,” saying it’s “very difficult” to see the US allowing Iranian players, officials and medics into the country given the active military conflict (Al Jazeera, March 4, 2026).
Think about what that actually means. A country that qualified for the World Cup first team to qualify, in fact potentially being barred from entering the host nation not because of anything football-related but because of a war. And Donald Trump, when asked directly, said he doesn’t care whether Iran participates. That tells you everything about how this administration views football as a vehicle for diplomacy.
No team that has qualified has ever pulled out of a World Cup since 1950. We are genuinely in uncharted territory.
Then there’s Mexico. Last month cartel boss Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes was killed, triggering a wave of violence across the country. Mexico is set to host 13 World Cup games, including four in Guadalajara in the state of Jalisco, where the violence has been most concentrated. The Mexican president has insisted there will be no risks. FIFA president Gianni Infantino has expressed “total confidence” in Mexico.
Which is exactly what you’d expect both of them to say.
And then there’s the security funding crisis in the US itself, which is arguably the most shambolic element of all.
The US earmarked $875 million to enhance security for the tournament, but that money is being held up by a standoff in Congress over Homeland Security funding. Host city officials warned lawmakers in a congressional hearing on February 24 that World Cup safety is “in jeopardy” due to funding chaos and a lack of security coordination between local and federal agencies (Fortune, March 4, 2026). The chief operating officer of Miami’s World Cup host committee said the city might cancel its event if it did not receive federal funding within 30 days. Kansas City’s Deputy Police Chief said they had an immediate need for funds just to begin security preparation. And the town of Foxborough, Massachusetts, set to host seven games, has refused to issue a permit and set a March 17 deadline to be paid $7.8 million in security costs. That deadline is less than two weeks away.
Less than two weeks. Until a host town pulls its permit for the biggest sporting event in the world. In 100 days.
And the fans? Trump’s travel restrictions don’t only affect Iranian supporters. They hit fans from Senegal, Ivory Coast and Haiti all of whom have qualified teams. The fan festival in New York/New Jersey has already been eliminated. And unlike every World Cup fan zone since 2006, FIFA for the first time ever was charging entry fees to fan parks. Public pressure forced a partial rollback, but the fact it was ever on the table says everything about the direction this tournament is heading.
FIFA claimed they received over 500 million ticket requests. But as NPR pointed out, FIFA provided little evidence to support that number. And final ticket prices for marquee games have surged into the thousands.
Now look, Football has survived complicated World Cups before. The concerns before South Africa in 2010 were genuine, Brazil in 2014 had protests and unfinished stadiums, Qatar in 2022 had human rights controversies that never went away. Each time the football itself provided enough to carry the conversation.
But this feels different. This isn’t one political controversy or one logistical challenge. This is a war involving one of the host nations and a qualified team. This is a funding crisis that has host cities threatening to pull out. This is a president of the host country saying he doesn’t care whether a qualified nation attends. This is fan zones being cancelled and entry fees being charged for the first time in history.
At what point does FIFA stop calling this the greatest World Cup ever and start answering some actual questions?
Because in 100 days, ready or not, it begins.
