The 2025 Club World Cup was always going to be a test. A test of infrastructure, interest, and FIFA’s expanding ambitions. Billed as a dress rehearsal for next year’s World Cup, the first expanded version of the tournament offered a month-long glimpse into the tensions shaping global football: commercial growth versus climate reality, spectacle versus sustainability, and politics creeping into the penalty box.
When the final whistle blew at MetLife Stadium, Chelsea were 3-0 winners over PSG in front of more than 81,000 spectators. Donald Trump, already staking symbolic ownership of the tournament by attending the final and pocketing a medal, stood front and center. FIFA president Gianni Infantino called the event a “huge, huge, huge success.” But behind the victory laps, the tournament revealed deep structural questions about the future of football on American soil.
Lessons and warnings for 2026
The expanded 32-team format brought in blockbuster clubs and glossy stadiums, but crowds told a different story. Only a fraction of matches sold out. Some ticket prices dropped from $349 to $13.40, and students were offered five-for-one deals to fill cavernous NFL venues. MetLife aside, large swaths of empty seats became a motif. FIFA misread the American consumer and misunderstood the product’s position in a crowded sports market. This wasn’t the Super Bowl. It wasn’t even March Madness.
Broadcast reach is harder to judge. DAZN claimed over 3 billion viewers worldwide, a number that strains credibility but reflects FIFA’s tendency to inflate impact. On the ground, Nielsen ratings were mixed. Warner Bros Discovery and TelevisaUnivision drew healthy U.S. audiences for the final—2.45 million—but it didn’t match Champions League or even Euro 2025 viewership.
Climate, broadcast hype, and the reality on the ground
Heat was an omnipresent villain. Afternoon matches in Charlotte and Miami pushed players beyond comfort. Chelsea’s Enzo Fernández called it “very dangerous.” Dortmund’s Niko Kovač said training was impossible. Trent Alexander-Arnold spoke of overheating. Six matches were delayed by lightning storms, including Chelsea-Benfica, which lasted nearly five hours.
Playing surfaces were another flashpoint. Coaches and players slammed the quality of hybrid pitches laid over artificial turf, especially at MetLife and Atlanta. Reece James said the surfaces were bad for joints. Dortmund players said the grass was so tight you could putt on it. These aren’t one-off issues. These are World Cup venues.
Politically, the Club World Cup was unmistakably Trump’s show. He shared the stage with Infantino, featured in official coverage, and launched a World Cup task force with himself as chair. His presence may energize some domestic audiences, but it risks alienating global fans, particularly with travel bans and visa challenges for supporters from countries like Iran and Colombia. Wait times for U.S. tourist visas stretch beyond a year in many nations. And owning a World Cup ticket doesn’t guarantee entry.
That raises a real question for 2026. Will fans from countries on the U.S. travel ban list even be allowed to attend? Will exemptions be granted in time? Or will we see a World Cup hosted by a country where entire nations are effectively excluded? Even if national teams are granted access, fans from Iran or parts of Africa and Latin America could still be sidelined by bureaucratic bottlenecks. If Trump remains at the forefront, that tension only intensifies. The fear is not just who gets in, but who gets to be seen. Trump’s appearance at the Club World Cup final felt less like a cameo and more like a preview. Will he stand on the podium again next summer, perhaps at the World Cup final, making the closing image of the tournament about himself?
Pageantry, perception, and the people left out
The pageantry was unmistakably American. NBA-style walk-ons, Doja Cat at halftime, and Michael Buffer yelling “Let’s get ready to rumble.” To some, it was fresh. To others, hollow. The delays to kickoffs disrupted team routines. The spectacle, though glitzy, sometimes felt like the main event rather than the football itself.
Still, the Club World Cup showed some strengths. Diaspora fanbases turned out in force for teams from Brazil and the Middle East. Philadelphia’s local organizers noted that simple outreach brought in first-time fans who were blown away. That’s the lesson for 2026. Don’t just market the tournament. Localize it. Build it from the ground up, community by community.
Perhaps the most damning indictment of FIFA’s approach was its pricing missteps. Dynamic pricing aimed high and cratered. One-thousand-dollar hospitality packages sat empty. The World Cup will face the same issue unless expectations are recalibrated. FIFA says it wants 13 billion dollars in revenue for this cycle. The risk is a World Cup that feels gated rather than global. Empty seats don’t just signal failure. They erode the very energy that makes the event meaningful.
Trump, turf, ticketing, and temperature. All of it matters. The 2025 Club World Cup gave us a stress test. The 2026 World Cup will be larger, hotter, and more political. If FIFA doesn’t absorb the warnings, it risks staging the most ambitious World Cup in history on a foundation that can’t support its own weight.
