The sweat was already pouring at the 2025 FIFA . In Philadelphia, Chelsea players hunched over water bottles like lifelines. In Pasadena, Atlético Madrid’s Marcos Llorente described the sensation as something close to torture: “My toes were sore, even my toenails hurt. I couldn’t stop or start.”

The 2026 , now just a year away, promises a bigger spotlight—and a hotter stage. For the first time, the tournament will stretch across three nations and 16 cities, including summer hotspots like Dallas, Houston, Miami, and Monterrey. It’s the biggest World Cup yet. It might also be the most dangerous.

, schedules, and survival

FIFPRO, the global players’ union, is sounding the alarm. Its medical experts have drawn a line: a Wet Bulb Globe Temperature (WBGT) above 82.4°F (28°C) should trigger postponements. At the Club World Cup, that threshold was crossed in multiple venues. Matches in Philadelphia and Pasadena, FIFPRO says, should’ve been called off. FIFA disagrees. Their threshold? A full four degrees higher.

The players aren’t waiting for consensus. Borussia Dortmund kept its substitutes in air-conditioned locker rooms during a match in Cincinnati. Enzo Maresca, Chelsea’s coach, cut training short in Philly, citing the “impossible” heat. And in Kansas City, a referee collapsed during a Gold Cup match when the heat index surged past 100°F.

The risks aren’t abstract. When temperatures and humidity combine to push WBGT past 82.4°F (28°C), core body temperatures climb. Performance declines. Dehydration intensifies. By 89.6°F (32°C) WBGT, the risk of heat stroke becomes real. FIFPRO is urging FIFA to eliminate midday kickoffs in at-risk cities like Miami and Houston. The data backs them up: nine of 16 host cities routinely exceed 82.4°F (28°C) WBGT in summer. Only Vancouver and City sit safely below.

Infrastructure offers some relief. Mercedes-Benz Stadium in Atlanta and AT&T Stadium in Arlington are climate-controlled. So are NRG in Houston and Estadio BBVA in Monterrey. These venues can seal out the worst of the heat. But most of the others—including MetLife in New Jersey and Gillette in Boston—are exposed. Organizers are planning hydration stations, misting zones, extended halftimes, and cooling breaks every 15 minutes. But critics argue that’s a patch, not a fix.

The real issue is scheduling. With a 48-team format and 104 matches, there’s mounting pressure to keep TV windows open. European broadcasters favor midday U.S. kickoffs. FIFPRO’s Alex Phillips doesn’t mince words: “We will plead. We will use common sense arguments.” MLS, he points out, doesn’t schedule midday games in Florida. So why should FIFA?

The cost of playing through it

Fans see the writing on the (sun-scorched) wall. Reddit threads groan at the idea of 1 p.m. kickoffs in Texas. “Moronic,” one fan put it. Others plan to follow their teams only to cooler cities—such as Seattle, Vancouver, and possibly San Francisco. The rest? They’ll bring hats, sunscreen, and hope.

But the debate goes beyond inconvenience. It touches on labor rights. Players are workers. And in most professions, being asked to perform strenuous tasks in unsafe heat would violate occupational safety laws. Yet in elite football, the show often goes on. “It’s urgent to stop this massacre,” read one recent statement from the French players’ union. The language is fierce, but so is the risk.

Lessons from Qatar and Tokyo are still fresh in our minds. Qatar 2022 moved the entire tournament to winter to dodge deadly heat. Tokyo’s 2021 Olympics pushed marathons to dawn and tennis matches into the evening. In both cases, players’ pleas prompted change. In both, delay wasn’t defeat—it was protection.

FIFA faces the same choice now. Move matches. Respect thresholds. Or risk turning the world’s biggest sporting celebration into a cautionary tale. Because the temperature isn’t just rising. The clock is ticking.