The Donald has done it again. Not content with merely dividing a continent or two, he now turns his back on the beautiful game, the global spectacle of the World Cup. The news that Trump has snubbed yet another opportunity to promote the 2026 tournament should surprise no one who has watched the slow decline of American engagement with anything beyond their own borders.
But for British broadcasters, who have spent millions on rights expecting a frenzy of interest across the Pond, this is a cold shower. Trump’s disinterest is not merely a personal eccentricity: it is a symptom of a national disease. The United States, once a brash and curious upstart, has become insular, provincial, and contemptuous of the old world’s ties.
The revenue projections for 2026 are now in jeopardy. British executives may soon find that they have bought a pig in a poke. The contrast with the Victorian era, when Britain exported sport and civilisation across the globe, is stark.
We now import American indifference and pay for the privilege. This is intellectual decadence, a retreat from the common culture that once bound the Anglosphere. Trump’s snub is a symbol: America no longer wants to play the game.
It wants to be the game, on its own terms, alone. And we, foolishly, keep hoping for a different outcome.
