Dr. Kyle R. King
Associate Professor of English and Communication Arts & Sciences, Penn State Altoona. His research on sport rhetoric, media, and literature has been published in Quarterly Journal of Speech, Rhetoric & Public Affairs, Present Tense, Communication & Sport, and International Journal of Sport Communication, and he has published reviews and public-facing scholarship at The Conversation, The Common Reader, Sport in American History, and elsewhere. He teaches courses in the sport humanities, rhetorical studies, writing studies, and contemporary literature.
This essay opens with a key premise: Host nations use sporting megaevents as a political tool for domestic and/or international audiences.
Recently, this phenomenon has been labelled “sportswashing,” a term which dates to 2015 critiques of Azerbaijan’s efforts to host the European Games as a distraction from its human rights record but found its apotheosis in the 2022 FIFA Men’s World Cup in Qatar. Sport sociologist Jules Boykoff defines sportswashing as “a phenomenon whereby political leaders use sports to appear important or legitimate on the world stage while stoking nationalism and deflecting attention from chronic social problems and human-rights woes on the home front.” For Boykoff, sportswashing has both domestic and international audiences, and its history dates to the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, as an attempt to launder Nazism onto the world stage.
I do not want to get bogged down into ongoing academic debates about “sportswashing”: how it is similar to or different from other “-washing” metaphors; how it is similar to or different from other terms such as “sport diplomacy” or “soft power”; or, as scholars working from postcolonial perspectives have argued, whether “sportswashing”—as an allegation—is an imperialist and Eurocentric invention designed to denigrate and Otherize ascendant non-Western nations.
Instead, I simply wish to turn the lens onto my own home nation: How did the United States’s reputation change before and during the 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup? How did the nation’s leaders attempt to use the World Cup for political purposes?
The Trump administration has not enjoyed a strong standing internationally. A June 2026 Pew Research Report indicated that most nations’ belief in the United States as a credible partner has sharply declined since 2022. Trade tariffs, needlessly cruel anti-immigration policies that have caused tourism to decline, and hostility toward traditional allies demonstrate “America First” ideology. Matching that rhetoric, Trump pitched the United States as a host for future men’s World Cups—but not as a co-host with Canada and Mexico.
Policy surrounding the event seemed chaotic and incoherent. In April, Amnesty International issued a “World Cup travel advisory” cautioning visitors about the risks of visiting the United States. Although an expensive $15,000 bond requirement for visitors was waived for most entrants in May, after reports that hotels and tickets remained significantly underbooked compared to expectations, the country’s capricious anti-immigration policies continued to make headlines. Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan was denied permission to enter the country to officiate with little explanation, and no Haitian or Iranian fans were granted visas to enter the country. The United States became the first country to host a World Cup while in an active military conflict with a fellow participant, and the Iranian team was forced into inequitable travel arrangements compared to other teams. The combination of FIFA’s dynamic ticket pricing and expensive U.S. travel logistics has meant that games have primarily been attended by the well-to-do. Eleven U.S. host cities face a collective shortfall of up to $250 million for logistical expenses, even as FIFA stands to make record profits on the event.
Which is to say: The FIFA Men’s World Cup in the United States looked a lot likethe current United States—a “K-shaped” social event that matches our K-shaped economy and K-shaped society.
It was difficult for U.S. President Donald Trump to make political use of the World Cup. Although Trump gladly accepted FIFA President Gianni Infantino’s offer of a “FIFA Peace Prize” in December 2025, he told the New York Post he would not pay the high ticket prices to attend a match. Trump was the rare political leader not to attend his home nation’s matches while hosting the event. Soccer’s purported ideal of cosmopolitan internationalism across social classes does not square with President Trump’s America First political ideology or golf-, football-, and martial arts-focused sporting ideology. Indeed, he counterprogrammed the World Cup with a UFC card held on the South Lawn of the White House for his 80th birthday.
President Trump’s only attempt to get involved on behalf of the United States occurred when he lobbied Infantino to overturn USMNT striker Folarin Balogun’s one-game ban for a red card in the lead-up to their round of 16 match against Belgium. This type of one-on-one favor trading and lobbying, adopted from the business world, is central to what public policy scholar Don Moynihan has labelled “the personalist presidency” of Trump’s executive branch. Predictably, FIFA’s unprecedented overturn of the ban drew accusations of political favoritism, while reinforcing perceptions of Trump as—in the words of sportswriter Rick Reilly, on President Trump’s actions while golfing—the “Commander in Cheat.” As the visual epitome reinforcing perceptions of President Trump as a self-centered leader who lacks self-awareness, the World Cup final concluded with Trump lingering onstage during Spain’s celebrations, as Infantino desperately tried to usher him away.
In short: The 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup did not change the United States’s reputation abroad or cut through social and political division at home. If anything, it has simply reinforced the perception of Donald Trump as a singular U.S. president, willing to act unlike any of his predecessors.
