The own goal that might not coming by Kasie Hewitt

For generations football has been the world's great unifier. It is the game that requires little more than a ball, a patch of ground and a shared belief that, for ninety minutes, anything is possible. It crosses borders more easily than diplomats, speaks more languages than politicians and inspires loyalties that often last a lifetime. To millions football is entertainment. To millions more, it is something closer to faith.

That is why every World Cup carries a special responsibility. It is not merely a tournament. It is a celebration of openness, travel, cultural exchange and the idea that people from every corner of the globe can gather around a common passion.

Yet as the United States prepares to host the 2026 World Cup alongside Canada and Mexico, there are growing concerns that the event risks becoming remembered for reasons that have little to do with football itself.

The United States undoubtedly possesses the infrastructure. It has enormous stadiums, sophisticated transportation networks and a proven ability to stage major sporting spectacles. On paper, it should be the perfect host. But football is not played on paper. It is experienced by people. And people must feel welcome.

Many fans around the world have watched recent political debates in the United States with increasing unease. Immigration enforcement, border policies and rhetoric surrounding foreign visitors have created an atmosphere that some perceive as uninviting. Whether those concerns are entirely justified is almost beside the point. Perception matters. In international sport, perception can become reality.

Then there is the issue of cost. World Cups have never been cheap but there is a growing fear that ticket prices, accommodation costs and travel expenses could place the tournament beyond the reach of many ordinary supporters. Football's greatest moments have traditionally belonged to the masses. The World Cup should not become an exclusive festival for corporations, wealthy tourists and hospitality packages.

The danger is not that stadiums will be empty. American stadiums are large enough and corporate demand strong enough to ensure seats are filled. The danger is that the unique character of a World Cup could be diminished. A tournament without the vibrant presence of travelling supporters from every continent loses something essential. The songs, colours and spontaneous celebrations outside the grounds are as important to the experience as the action on the pitch.

Football's governing bodies often speak about growing the game. Growth, however, is not measured only in revenue. It is measured in accessibility, inclusion and the ability of ordinary fans to participate. If supporters feel priced out or discouraged from attending, then football risks forgetting the very people who made it the world's most popular sport.

The United States still has time to prove the sceptics wrong. A successful World Cup remains entirely possible. But success should not be judged solely by television ratings, sponsorship deals or record-breaking profits. It should be judged by whether fans from Buenos Aires, Lagos, Berlin, Tokyo and countless other cities feel genuinely welcomed.

The World Cup belongs to the world. Any host nation that forgets that simple truth risks scoring the most damaging own goal of all.