The dream of many British football fans to attend the 2026 World Cup in the United States has turned into a nightmare of paperwork and frustration. New US visa restrictions, enacted without warning, have left thousands of supporters stranded in a bureaucratic maze, unable to secure entry to the tournament they had planned for years.
The trouble began last week when the US Department of Homeland Security quietly updated its visa waiver programme, adding stringent new checks for travellers from the UK. Applicants are now required to provide detailed employment histories, social media accounts, and evidence of return flights. The measures, officials say, are designed to enhance national security, but critics argue they are a blunt instrument that punishes ordinary fans.
“I’ve been saving up for this trip for three years,” said Mark Thompson, a bricklayer from Sheffield. “I had the tickets, the hotel, even a signed ball from the England squad. Now the visa people say I need a letter from my boss confirming my job. My boss is a mate down the pub. It’s a nightmare.”
Mark’s story is not unique. Across the country, working-class supporters are bearing the brunt of the chaos. The Football Supporters’ Association reports a 400% surge in calls from panicked fans, many of whom have been told their visa applications could take up to six months to process. The World Cup starts in under 90 days.
“This is a disaster for the proud tradition of English fans travelling to support their team,” said Kevin Miles, chief executive of the FSA. “These are not troublemakers; they are ordinary people who spend their hard-earned wages on following their national side. To be treated like potential criminals is deeply unfair.”
The timing could not be worse. The 2026 World Cup, co-hosted by the US, Canada and Mexico, was meant to be a celebration of football’s growing popularity in America. Instead, it is exposing deep fissures in the transatlantic relationship. British travel agencies report a 30% drop in bookings for matches in US cities since the restrictions took effect.
“The American government has forgotten that football is a people’s game,” said Sarah Jenkins, the economy and labour reporter who broke the story. “These fans are not rich executives. They are nurses, teachers, electricians. They are spending money they might have saved for a new boiler or a family holiday. To have that effort thrown back in their faces by a faceless bureaucracy is a kick in the teeth.”
But the issue goes beyond football. The visa changes are part of a broader tightening of US border policy that has alarmed British business groups. The British Chambers of Commerce warned that the uncertainty could deter not just fans but also business travellers, damaging the £200 billion annual trade between the two countries.
“The US is sending a message that it is closed for business, or at least that it doesn’t trust its closest allies,” said Dr. Emily Cross, a trade economist at the London School of Economics. “For a government that talks about special relationships, these visa policies are hardly a warm embrace.”
No one is denying the need for security. But as the World Cup draws nearer, the real victims are the fans themselves. They are stuck in a no-man’s land, their dreams on hold while the bureaucrats argue over forms and databases.
“I just want to see England win,” said Mark Thompson. “Is that too much to ask?”
For thousands of British fans, the answer, for now, is yes.
