In a stunning display of bureaucratic sadism, the United States has somehow managed to turn the beautiful game into an ugly visa application. As the 2026 World Cup looms on the horizon, football fans across the globe are discovering that their dreams of seeing Messi or Mbappé in the flesh are being blocked not by defenders, but by immigration officers. The irony is as thick as the smog over a Delhi rush hour: a tournament meant to unite the world is instead exposing its fractured borders.
Let's be clear, this is not a travel ban in the traditional sense. There is no wall, no moat filled with alligators. Instead, what we have is a labyrinthine system of ESTA rejections, visa denials, and the sort of Kafkaesque paperwork that would make Franz Kafka himself say, 'Steady on, lads.' Fans from Mexico, Brazil, and even our own dear Britain are finding their applications rejected for reasons that range from 'insufficient ties to home country' to 'the algorithm said no.' Yes, the same algorithm that thinks I should buy a lawnmower every time I search for gin.
The official line from the State Department is the usual drivel: 'We welcome all legitimate travellers.' But what does 'legitimate' mean in this context? Is a man who has saved for three years to see his national team not legitimate? Is a woman who has followed her team through thick and thin not legitimate? No, apparently, the only legitimate travellers are those with enough money to buy a private jet and a golden visa. The rest of us can watch on telly and weep into our pints.
And yet, the United States will happily roll out the red carpet for the players themselves. Oh yes, the billionaires and their multi-millionaire employees will waft through immigration with all the ease of a warm breeze. But the people who actually make football what it is, the fans, they are left to rot in a bureaucratic no-man's land. It is a classic case of 'World Cup for them, not for us.'
The hypocrisy is staggering. Remember the 1994 World Cup, when the USA hosted and everyone said, 'See, the Yanks can do it'? Well, 30 years on, they are proving that they can do it, but only if you have the right passport and a clean criminal record. For everyone else, it is a big fat 'Nein, danke.'
The fallback is obvious: the government wants to avoid a repeat of the chaos seen at the 2018 World Cup in Russia, or the 'festival of hospitality' in Qatar. But instead of improving the process, they have simply made it more exclusive. It is the sporting equivalent of a gated community. Welcome to the World Cup, but stay behind the fence.
I can already hear the defenders of this policy: 'But if we let everyone in, it would be a security nightmare!' To which I say, 'Have you seen the state of American domestic security? You have mass shootings every week, and you are worried about a few thousand football fans with vuvuzelas?' It is a classic case of misdirected priorities.
The real tragedy is that this will hurt the very teams that the US is supposedly trying to support. Which player wants to play in front of a half-empty stadium because the fans couldn't get visas? Which country wants to send its team to a tournament where their own supporters are treated like lepers?
But of course, this is all part of the grand theatre of modern life. We are meant to believe that the World Cup is for everyone, but in reality, it is for the sponsors, the politicians, and the elite. The rest of us are just window dressing, or in this case, not even that.
So, as the countdown to 2026 continues, I propose a new chant for the terraces: 'They say it's a people's game, but the people are denied.' It may not be as catchy as 'Olé, olé, olé,' but it has the ring of truth. And frankly, that is the only ring we are likely to hear unless the US government pulls its collective head out of the sand and starts treating football fans like human beings instead of potential terrorists.
In the meantime, I shall be polishing my gin glass and preparing to watch the tournament from the comfort of my local, which is, after all, the only place where the only barrier to entry is the price of a pint. And even that is becoming a barrier these days. But that, dear readers, is a column for another day.
