The countdown to the 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup is ticking away, but the world’s biggest football tournament is already mired in controversy and uncertainty. With the United States, Canada, and Mexico sharing hosting duties, soccer fans everywhere should be gearing up for a historic North American celebration. Instead, they’re watching a drama unfold that’s as unpredictable as a penalty shootout. From calls for boycotts over political tensions in the U.S. to fresh fears about cartel violence in Mexico, the road to kickoff is anything but smooth.
Let’s start with the United States, where political storms are brewing as fiercely as any on-field rivalry. The recent surge in calls to boycott the 2026 World Cup took off after U.S. President Donald Trump threatened to annex Greenland from Denmark—a move that raised eyebrows worldwide and sent soccer officials in Germany and France scrambling to discuss the possibility of skipping the tournament altogether. While both nations’ soccer federations have resisted endorsing a boycott so far, the debate is far from settled. Recent events in Minneapolis have only heightened anxieties about the U.S. role in hosting and what that might mean for visiting fans and teams, especially with the country’s controversial immigration enforcement agency, ICE, set to oversee security.
Former FIFA President Sepp Blatter, whose own tenure ended in scandal, didn’t mince words about his concerns. He recently stated, “There is a real danger in the marginalization of political opponents and the violent crackdowns on immigration in the U.S.” According to Blatter, these issues risk overshadowing the spirit of international unity that the World Cup is supposed to foster. Human rights groups have echoed these fears, raising the alarm about whether fans could be detained or even handed over to ICE for expressing criticism of the U.S. government while attending matches.
Yet, history tells us that outright boycotts of major sporting events are rare, especially when compared to bans. The Olympic Games have seen more than their fair share of drama—think back to the 1980 Moscow Olympics, when over 60 countries, led by the U.S., stayed home to protest the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. The Soviets and their allies returned the favor in 1984, skipping the Los Angeles Games. But when it comes to the World Cup, the record is different. There’s never been a boycott by qualified teams on political grounds. The closest was in 1934, when Uruguay refused to defend its title in Italy, and in 1966, when African nations withdrew from qualifying in protest over FIFA’s allocation of tournament spots.
So, how likely is a boycott this time around? Not very, at least for now. No major soccer federation leader has thrown their weight behind the idea, despite pressure from some executives and politicians. As history shows, it would take a bold, Carter-esque move from a federation head to set a boycott in motion. And with FIFA president Gianni Infantino’s close relationship with Trump—Infantino attended Trump’s inauguration, awarded him FIFA’s inaugural Peace Prize, and recently signed an agreement with Trump’s Board of Peace—it’s unlikely that even credible threats of a boycott would sway U.S. policy or hosting duties. As one observer put it, “A boycott remains unlikely, and even credible threats would likely do little to shift Infantino and Trump from the status quo.”
But while the U.S. faces political scrutiny, Mexico is wrestling with a different kind of threat—one that’s as old as the beautiful game itself in this country: organized crime. Just days ago, the city of Guadalajara, home to the Estadio Akron (which is set to host four group matches), was rocked by violence after a federal operation ended with the killing of Nemesio “El Mencho” Oseguera Cervantes, leader of the powerful Cártel de Jalisco Nueva Generación (CJNG). The cartel’s response was swift and brutal: burning buses and taxis, arson attacks on shops from a Costco in Puerto Vallarta to local corner stores, and blockades—known locally as “narcobloqueos”—that brought Jalisco to a standstill.
With the city under a red alert, ordinary life froze. Bars and restaurants shut their doors, and even sports weren’t spared. The women’s Clásico Nacional between Chivas and Club América was postponed, as was a men’s Liga MX match in Querétaro, hundreds of miles away. The CJNG’s reach extended across at least eight states, and the specter of violence loomed large over the entire region.
This isn’t the first time Mexican soccer has been touched by cartel violence. In August 2011, gunfire outside Santos Laguna’s stadium sent players and fans scrambling for cover in a scene that left a lasting mark on the league’s efforts to present itself as family-friendly. The Dorados, a second-division club from Sinaloa, haven’t played a true home match since October 2024 due to ongoing cartel battles, relocating to Baja California for safety. The infamous 2019 Battle of Culiacán, sparked by the attempted capture of Ovidio Guzmán López, son of “El Chapo,” showed just how quickly cartel violence can spiral, with the city paralyzed by blockades and gunfire until Guzmán was released.
Against this backdrop, Mexican authorities had reportedly pleaded with the U.S. not to move against “El Mencho” in 2026, fearing violence would erupt in World Cup host cities. But the decision was made anyway, possibly under American pressure, and now the world is watching to see if the security preparations will hold. “FIFA’s Mexico office has been working for three years with the federal government, and all levels of the government, on the topic of security,” said Jurgen Mainka, FIFA’s executive director in Mexico, last November. “We’re very sure, very confident that all the protocols and all the plans that are being implemented for the World Cup will give us the security framework necessary for all fans, all teams and all referees in 2026.”
State officials in Jalisco have promised to add thousands of security cameras, acquire new law enforcement vehicles, and deploy drone-prevention technology to keep stadiums safe. President Claudia Sheinbaum echoed this optimism last fall, stating, “Security is being worked on. It has been worked on in a very coordinated manner, with police departments in the host cities, the host states and the [federal] secretary of security and civilian protection, and there’s really important work being carried out.”
Even so, the events of February 22, 2026, have rattled fans and officials alike. The images of burning buses and deserted streets have spread across social media, raising fears among supporters from as far away as South Korea, Colombia, Uruguay, and Spain—many of whom are planning trips to Jalisco this summer. For Mexicans, these scenes are all too familiar, a stark reminder of the challenges still facing the country as it prepares to welcome the world.
As the tournament draws near, the stakes are sky-high. Political tensions and security fears threaten to overshadow what should be a unifying celebration of global sport. For now, the world is holding its breath, waiting to see if North America can deliver a World Cup worthy of the beautiful game’s grandest tradition.