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The 27th man on the podium had his own agenda. Donald Trump intruded into the photo session of yet another trophy presentation, lingering awkwardly while Spain revelled in their World Cup triumph. It almost felt inevitable: although Trump attended only one match during the entire tournament — much to the relief of thousands who endured intolerable delays due to his unnecessary presence — his influence was unmistakable throughout the event.

At the MetLife Stadium on Sunday, Trump was met with loud boos and whistles. Nevertheless, he made clear his desire for another World Cup final — or rather, another World Cup. “I had a great idea for Gianni [Infantino],” he declared. “Announce us again next time. We will be requesting it again immediately.”

That, however, overlooks the fact that the next two World Cups have already been allocated, neither of them to the United States. But such details rarely deter Trump from making impulsive pronouncements. He had also announced that the next time, “we would leave Canada and Mexico out.” If his long-rumoured dream of turning Canada into the 51st state ever materialises, perhaps that would change. Given his fondness for expansionist ideas, one could even imagine matches being played in a hypothetical Trump Dome in Greenland, funded by some crypto billionaire.

In reality, the earliest the United States could host another men’s World Cup is 2038. However, they are set to co-host the women’s edition in 2031 alongside Mexico, Jamaica and Costa Rica. Reports also suggest that Infantino is considering the US for the 2029 Club World Cup.

Yet there are strong reasons why none of these events should take place in the United States without major reforms — moral, financial, and logistical concerns all loom large.

As Russia and Qatar demonstrated, hosting a World Cup can lend legitimacy to questionable regimes. However, neither staged the event while actively engaged in a war with another competing nation. The US airstrike on a school in Iran, which killed 168 people, mostly children, could arguably amount to a war crime.

Even within footballing matters, Iran’s team faced unfair treatment when trying to enter or leave the US. “A disaster World Cup,” their striker Mehdi Taremi labelled it. Considering the bellicose tendencies of a president who absurdly received a fabricated FIFA ‘peace prize,’ it’s understandable that other countries might fear they could be next in line for conflict.

There was also a sporting dimension to the ethical failures. When Folarin Balogun’s suspension was mysteriously lifted to allow the US forward to face Belgium — conveniently after Trump had a call with Infantino — it marked one of FIFA’s lowest moments. Political interference had trumped sporting integrity, eroding the very principles of fair play the organisation claims to uphold.

Although Balogun’s inclusion did not help the US avoid a 4–1 thrashing, the move likely emboldened Trump to wield similar influence in future.

Beyond that, the Trump administration’s values stood in stark contrast to those the World Cup aspires to promote — openness, diversity, and unity, a global language that “brings people together” and “turns strangers into friends,” as Tom Cruise put it in his eccentric speech before the final.

Many visitors over the past six weeks could attest that most Americans are welcoming and kind. Yet 77 million people voted for a government widely viewed as regressive. Awarding such a nation another major sporting event effectively rewards behaviour that has economically harmed much of the world through trade tariffs and military aggression.

Financially too, there are compelling reasons to look elsewhere. While FIFA boasts that this was the most profitable World Cup ever — thanks to an expanded format of 48 teams and 104 matches — it was also the most avaricious. The US market was exploited to push ticket prices to unprecedented levels. This greed, fuelled by corporate opportunism and Trump-era capitalism, turned fans into targets for extortion. In Foxborough, for instance, parking spaces a mile or two from the stadium were being offered for $150 and even $200. That exploitative culture urgently needs correction, not reinforcement.

Then there’s the logistical nightmare. The vast geography of the US made travel between host cities exhausting and costly. Poor planning only exacerbated matters, highlighting once again that FIFA and American organisers put fans last. Disorganisation at several venues was glaring.

The selection of host cities and match schedules displayed little regard for practicality. Germany, for example, had to play group games in Houston, Toronto, and New York, while Austria journeyed from San Francisco to Dallas to Kansas City. Too few cities were close enough to each other to make travel feasible.

Even worse, many stadiums were located far from city centres. While the stadiums themselves were impressive, their remote locations and the nation’s dependence on cars made logistics painful. Boston was nearly perfect as a host city — except, ironically, its stadium was nowhere near Boston.

Proximity and accessibility should have been paramount. In truth, only three US stadiums — in Seattle, Atlanta, and Philadelphia — were situated close enough to their respective city centres. Toronto, in neighbouring Canada, served as a much better example of sensible planning.

Chicago declined to participate partly due to FIFA’s excessive demands, but the organisation should focus on choosing the right venues, not merely the most profitable. Soldier Field, with its central location and efficient transit links, would have been a far superior Midwestern site than Kansas City, which lacked adequate infrastructure.

FIFA’s arrogance may prevent it from learning these lessons, but it could do worse than studying Euro 2024, a competition that embraced better values and fan-focused planning. It wasn’t flawless, but Germany’s S-Bahn and U-Bahn systems ensured smooth movement between venues in cities like Berlin and Hamburg. By comparison, America’s car-centric culture is wholly unsuited to such global tournaments.

Does FIFA actually care? Almost certainly not. The organisation’s detachment from the sport’s grassroots was evident throughout the event, further underscored by its efforts to Americanise football.

The takeaway from this chaotic tournament should be clear: no hydration breaks unless absolutely necessary, no half-time entertainment spectacles, no celebrity freebies at the expense of genuine fans — and above all, no more World Cups in the United States, at least not under current circumstances.