Every FIFA World Cup since 1966 has deployed a mascot. The intention is simple: to embody the host nation’s identity in a light, playful way, while bringing it to life through print and on-pitch appearances. Let’s take a look at how mascots have evolved across six decades and what the new North American trio reveals about the present moment.
The early years: 1966–1978
The journey began with World Cup Willie in England in 1966. A cartoon lion in a British jersey, Willie became a national symbol and the first World Cup merchandising phenomenon. His success established the blueprint: mascots weren’t just illustrations, they were products, songs, and collectibles.
Mexico’s Juanito followed in 1970, a boy in a sombrero and green kit. Cliché, sure, but only to be outdone by West Germany’s Tip and Tap in 1974, two smiling boys whose shirts spelled “WM 74.” Their fixed grins divided opinion, but the concept of unity resonated during the Cold War. Argentina’s Gauchito in 1978 leaned on national folklore with his gaucho hat and kerchief, though critics felt he was little more than Juanito’s cousin.
Experimentation: 1982–1994
Spain broke the mold in 1982 with Naranjito, a grinning orange in a football kit. Silly and bold, he became a pop culture hit, even starring in his own cartoon. Mexico returned in 1986 with Pique, a jalapeño pepper with a mustache and sombrero. Colorful at the time, the mascot later became the apotheosis of cliches.
Italy’s 1990 entry, Ciao, remains one of the most daring. A geometric stick figure in Italy’s colors with a ball for a head, Ciao was closer to cubist art than a mascot. Initially polarizing, he has since become a cult favorite.
The United States went the opposite route in 1994 with Striker, a Warner Bros.–designed dog in red, white, and blue. He was safe, friendly, and intended to introduce American kids to the tournament.
France’s Footix in 1998 struck a balance: a proud rooster in national colors with a playful grin. He became beloved as France lifted the trophy on home soil, so much so that “footix” entered slang as a term for bandwagon fans.
Into the digital age: 2002–2010
Japan and South Korea leaned on technology in 2002 with Ato, Kaz, and Nik, three CGI aliens who played a fictional sport called Atmosball. Kids at home found them quirky, but many fans were baffled. Germany 2006 brought Goleo VI, a trouser-less lion puppet built by Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, with a talking ball sidekick named Pille. Germans never warmed to him, and sluggish toy sales bankrupted his licensee.
South Africa’s Zakumi in 2010 reversed the trend. A leopard with green hair, Zakumi embodied youth, mischief, and national pride. He became hugely popular, though a scandal erupted when it emerged his plush toys were made in poor conditions abroad. Despite that, Zakumi is still fondly remembered.
Themes and causes: 2014–2022
Brazil’s Fuleco in 2014 was an armadillo chosen to highlight ecology. Kids adored him, but critics pointed out FIFA didn’t direct any merchandise profits toward conservation of the real species. In a tournament marked by street protests, Fuleco’s image was even reworked into placards accusing organizers of greed.
Russia 2018 returned to basics with Zabivaka, a wolf with sporty goggles. Cheerful, enough. Four years later in Qatar, La’eeb made a memorable entrance as a playful character inspired by the traditional ghutra.
2026: mascots for three nations
The 2026 World Cup, shared by the United States, Mexico, and Canada, has introduced three mascots: Clutch the bald eagle, Zayu the jaguar, and Maple the moose. Clutch plays midfielder, bold and adventurous. Zayu, a striker and team captain, draws on the jaguar’s deep roots in Mexican culture. Maple, the goalkeeper, is cast as both resilient and artistic, a nod to Canada’s creativity as well as its wilderness.
Rendered in Pixar-style animation, the trio are clearly designed for today’s digital-first generation. They’ll appear in a new FIFA video game, in Roblox experiences, and across merchandise. Reactions so far have been split. Many kids find them adorable, but critics dismiss them as safe, corporate characters. Some Mexican fans argued an axolotl would have been more original, while Canadian jokes floated around about adding a beaver. Still, the trio symbolize cross-border unity and will soon be everywhere from T-shirts to school visits.
Mascots as mirrors of their time
Looking back, mascots have always reflected the technological zeitgeist. Early versions were simple cartoons easy to print on pins and posters. Today, they look cliche.
The 1980s leaned into whimsy, while the 1990s experimented with modernist design and polished animation. The 2000s saw missteps like Goleo but also a rise in fan involvement through contests and votes. Today, mascots are transmedia figures designed for screens, games, and memes as much as stadium appearances.
They’ve also carried cultural and political messages: Tip and Tap’s unity, Zakumi’s birth in the year of South African democracy, Fuleco’s ecological promise, La’eeb’s Arab heritage. At times, they’ve become protest symbols. At their best, they win affection and become part of a host nation’s collective memory.
From a lion sketched in five minutes to a trio of 3D animals primed for Roblox, mascots have grown into marketing machines and cultural icons. They’ve been adored, ridiculed, and meme-ified, but inedible parts of the tournament’s pastiche.
