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The FIFA World Cup has always been thought of as the people's game, a celebration where fans from all corners of the world come together to enjoy football. But as the 2026 tournament approaches—being held across the United States, Canada, and Mexico—FIFA has come under serious criticism. The row over ticket prices has caused widespread anger, with people questioning whether the game is still accessible, fair, and not just becoming a money-making exercise.
When FIFA first revealed its ticketing plans, supporters were shocked. The cheapest seats for the final were going for more than three grand, and if you wanted to follow your team from the group stages all the way through to the final, you'd be looking at upwards of five thousand pounds. That didn't even cover flights or hotels, which were bound to be expensive given how spread out the tournament is across three massive countries. For most ordinary fans, the message was pretty clear: the World Cup was turning into something only the well-off could afford, leaving everyone else out in the cold.
The reaction was swift and furious. Supporters' groups across Europe, South America, and Asia slammed the pricing as a complete betrayal of what football stands for. Campaigns took off on social media, petitions racked up thousands of names, and even some players spoke out against it. It wasn't just about the cost—it was about trust. Fans felt FIFA was putting profits ahead of passion, turning what should be the world's greatest sporting occasion into a glorified corporate jamboree.
Under mounting pressure, FIFA eventually backed down. They brought in a new "Supporter Entry Tier", offering tickets at forty-five quid for all 104 matches, including the final. It was hailed as a win for the fans, proof that enough noise could make even the most powerful organisation listen. Still, plenty of supporters remained wary. The harm to FIFA's reputation had already been done, and many were left wondering how they thought those eye-watering prices were ever acceptable to begin with.
The whole episode shines a light on a bigger problem in modern football: finding the balance between making money and keeping the game rooted in the community. FIFA would argue that putting on a tournament across three countries doesn't come cheap and needs serious income. Fans, though, reckon football's heart lies in being open to everyone, in letting ordinary people share in the joy of it all. The World Cup isn't just a sporting event—it's a cultural moment, and pricing people out threatens to strip away what makes it special.
In the end, the World Cup 2026 ticket saga is a reminder that football belongs to the fans, not the suits in the boardroom. While FIFA's decision to offer affordable tickets is a positive move, the mistrust caused by those initial prices won't be forgotten anytime soon. As the tournament draws closer, FIFA's job isn't just to put on a great show—it's to win back trust and make sure the world's biggest sporting party remains something everyone can be part of.