Across the United States, youth sports have long been seen as a pathway to better health, social development, and, for a lucky few, athletic stardom. But as the nation approaches the 2026 FIFA World Cup, questions linger about whether all American children truly have access to these opportunities—especially in places like Nevada and Philadelphia, where participation rates and program availability tell a complex story of both promise and persistent barriers.
In Nevada, youth sports participation rates remain stubbornly low. According to The Nevada Independent, during the 2023-2024 school year, only about 46% of children aged 6 to 17 took part in organized sports—significantly below the national average of 57%. For many families, the dream of seeing their child score the winning goal or hit a home run collides with the reality of mounting costs and logistical hurdles. By 2024, the average Nevada family shelled out roughly $1,000 a year for their child's primary sport, a whopping 46% jump from just five years earlier. One family recounted spending nearly $500 just for a single cross-country season.
"Immediately, a lot of Nevada families just cannot afford that," Richard Rosenkranz, a professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas who researches youth health interventions, told The Nevada Independent. Rosenkranz pointed to a broader trend: "We've essentially professionalized a lot of sports." To stay competitive, schools and clubs now feel pressure to hire full-time coaches, upgrade facilities, and travel to tournaments—costs that are often passed directly to families.
For parents working multiple jobs—especially in Nevada's dominant service industry—these expenses can be prohibitive. Lorena Llamas, a North Las Vegas mother of two, lamented, "Our players do not get enough attention here. There is so much talent in Nevada." But talent alone isn't enough when registration fees, uniforms, equipment, and travel quickly add up. Many Nevada families also find themselves ineligible for sports-fee waivers, further narrowing the field for aspiring young athletes.
Environmental factors add yet another layer of difficulty. Nevada's extreme heat, exacerbated by high-temperature artificial turf, can limit practice times and raise safety concerns. Limited public transportation makes it tough for families without reliable cars to get kids to practices and games. And with many residents moving in and out of the state, building stable teams and long-term programs is a challenge in itself.
Yet, despite these formidable obstacles, there are signs of hope. New program models—like recreational leagues, after-school activities, and shorter eight-week seasons—are cropping up, designed to offer more flexible and affordable options. Advocates believe that lowering barriers to entry and providing a wider variety of accessible programs could help boost participation and, by extension, improve young people’s physical, mental, and social well-being.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the country, Philadelphia is wrestling with its own version of the youth sports dilemma—one that’s coming into sharp focus as the city prepares to host matches for the 2026 FIFA World Cup. According to The Philadelphia Inquirer, the U.S. Soccer Foundation, in partnership with local organizations and the city, installed five mini-pitches across Philadelphia in late 2025 as part of a $2 million nationwide sustainability effort dubbed the 2026 Legacy Project. Each mini-pitch cost about $150,000, and the city itself has earmarked $3.5 million to build 15 such pitches and two signature soccer fields as part of a much larger $500 million parks and playground restoration initiative.
Jen Arnold, vice president of communications and marketing for the U.S. Soccer Foundation, explained the reasoning behind these investments: "From the foundation standpoint, we want to make sure [soccer] is growing equally across the ground. We’re here for the underresourced communities, communities that might not have been part of that boom after 1994. We’re here to make sure that everyone can access the game." The foundation’s hope is that these new fields will not only provide a safe and welcoming place to play, but also serve as hubs for local programming and community engagement.
But as Dom Landry, founder of North Philadelphia’s AC Fairhill club, knows all too well, building fields is only the first step. Landry started his club in 2015 with just “three kids and an old bag of balls,” but today it competes in tournaments across the region. Still, he cautions against seeing infrastructure as a panacea. "Putting infrastructure in for play is critically important, but it’s not the United States Soccer Federation or its foundation’s job to provide programming," Landry told The Philadelphia Inquirer. "We don’t have the soccer culture here in America where kids are just going to grab a soccer ball and go to a soccer pitch because it was made; there has to be enough people to bring in that level of interest to them. It’s very much a multiprong approach, and these mini-fields are great, but they’re only scratching the surface."
Landry’s point is echoed by other leaders in the youth sports community. Chris Branscome, president and CEO of the Eastern Pennsylvania Youth Soccer Association (EPYSA), emphasized the need for more coaches and ongoing programming. "Once they are built, you’ve got to get the kids there, you’ve got to program them. That’s perhaps the bigger piece of the puzzle: ensuring we have the opportunity to train more coaches and to deliver regular, consistent programming at these locations. To me, that’s the big challenge we have over the next year."
Philadelphia’s efforts to engage more Black and brown youth in the sport include creative outreach, like setting up a soccer pitch at the annual Odunde Festival on South Street in summer 2025. Jeremiah White III, a former professional player and entrepreneur, spearheaded this initiative. "A big thing missing from soccer programming here is the importance of connection," White said. "We tend to overvalue structural training, and in some cases disconnect training from culture entirely. It makes the game robotic and sucks out all of the passion. What kid is going to want to pick up a soccer ball over a basketball or a football, when that’s what they’re walking into?"
These efforts reflect a growing recognition that accessibility isn’t just about physical spaces or even affordability—it’s about building a culture that welcomes all kids, regardless of background, and makes sports fun and meaningful. As the World Cup excitement builds, Philadelphia’s leaders hope that their approach—combining new infrastructure with intentional programming and cultural outreach—will leave a legacy that endures long after the final whistle blows.
For both Nevada and Philadelphia, the message is clear: the future of youth sports depends on more than just fields and facilities. It requires a collective commitment to breaking down barriers, nurturing community, and making sure every child has the chance to play, learn, and grow. If these cities succeed, the next generation of athletes—and the communities they call home—will be all the stronger for it.
