Welcome to a day in the life of your average football fan at the most extortionate World Cup in history.
Step one – you get up
You wake up in your fairly average but very expensive hotel room. You’re staying close to the city centre because you want to be around other supporters from your country. You have been reading news stories about hotel companies who are “disappointed” about the number of empty rooms and they did make you laugh. Weren’t so disappointed when they whacked the prices up in the days after the World Cup draw, were they? Karma is a bitch.
Step two – you check your flights
The cost of your international flights also went up, because the choice was either to fly earlier and cheaper and pay more for the accommodation or fly out two days before the first group game and pay more for the air travel. You’re going to all three group games, so you have spent plenty on domestic flights too because this tournament is massive.
Step three – you go to the ground
You eat breakfast and think about how to get to the match. Your train option costs £73, many times more than the regular price, but hey at least it’s down from their original £112. The other options are Uber or taxis, which are also subject to a vast surcharge and you have heard horror stories about people being stranded after the match.
Step four – you remember why you left the car at home
You also considered hiring a car, but then saw the prices for inner-city hotel parking and the cost of parking at the stadium (reportedly up to £168), which obviously isn’t included in the price of the match ticket. In Germany two years ago and Qatar at the last World Cup, you remember that all public transport was free in host cities on matchdays for ticket holders. But there is money to be made out of you; best to nip that in the bud.
Step five – you take out your match tickets
Speaking of ticket holders, that was a fun game. You applied in the official ballot for tickets at the second cheapest price bracket and missed out because everybody went for those. In the end you paid a fairly exorbitant price for you and your child on the official secondary market because dynamic pricing is fine now apparently.
Fifa also took a 15 per cent commission on that resale, to avoid ticket dealers spamming the site apparently. That provokes thoughts that you aren’t allowed to write in your newspaper column. You also note that there are no discounts for children or the elderly, so your eight-year-old kid pays the same as you. Just another jump beyond the pale.
You bought the tickets early because Fifa promised that the matches would all be sold out: “Every match is already sold out. We keep some tickets back for some last-minute sales, of course, but every match is sold out” – Gianni Infantino, February 2026.
So it has been interesting to follow secondary ticketing sites and Fifa’s own official site over the previous few days and see a lot of tickets remaining. Also, you note that there have been at least three “last-minute” windows and “last chances to buy”. You read a story last week about the attorneys general of New York and New Jersey launching an official investigation into Fifa’s ticket practices. One to keep an eye on, you think.
Step six: your water is taken away
Still, you’re excited: this is the World Cup. You get to the stadium, where you are surrounded by hot concrete and are sweaty from the journey. No problem though, because you have planned ahead and have hard reusable water bottles for you and your child. You know that Fifa are committed to climate change, so you presume that there will be water fountains inside where fans can refill and ease the impact of extreme heat.
At the entrance, the water bottles are taken off you because you would definitely have thrown them on to the pitch. This way you can pay for water inside, presumably at ultra-cheap prices because you are definitely not a captive audience. And presumably they won’t take the lid off them so you can’t keep the bottles cooler out of the sun in your bag.
Step seven – you get some snacks
At half-time, your child asks if they can have a burger and fries and you have a beer. In Levi’s Stadium, you know that the typical cost for this is £26, although you are aware that this could be higher during a World Cup.
Read more
- Michael Hincks: The World Cup’s 13 best kits – and where England rank
- Daniel Storey: I’m driving 7,200 miles to tell the story of a World Cup like no other
Step eight – you visit the shop
You have already checked out Fifa’s online merchandise store and so know what will be on display as you walk out of the stadium after the match. A keychain and water bottle costs £45, but at least you won’t pay for delivery this way.
You have just had a normal day as a supporter at the 2026 World Cup. You are cynical and you are right to be.
There is a morality tale here, about taking the World Cup away from actual supporters and placing it only in the hands of high-end visitors. They promise that they will use your money to grow the game – but then what’s the point if the people it’s supposed to belong to don’t get to see it live?
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