A World Cup for a continent that's coming apart

When U.S., Mexican and Canadian soccer officials fanned out across the globe nearly a decade ago to sell the 2026 World Cup, they traveled in threes — one representative from each country — to underscore a simple message: North America's three largest countries were in lockstep.

"It was so embedded into everything we did that this was a united bid. Our success was tied to the joint nature of the bid. That was the anchor regarding the premise of what we were trying to do," said John Kristick, former executive director of the 2026 United Bid Committee.

The pitch worked. In 2018, FIFA members awarded the tournament to North America, marking the first time three countries would co-host a men's World Cup. Bid strategists were delighted when The Washington Post editorial page approvingly called it "the NAFTA World Cup."

The North American Free Trade Agreement is no more, a victim of President Donald Trump's decision to withdraw during his first term, and the successor U.S.-Mexico-Canada Agreement is now teetering. At almost exactly the midway point of the 39-day tournament, trade ties that link the three countries' economies will expire.

The trilateral relationship is more frayed than it has ever been, tensions reflected in this year's World Cup itself. Instead of one continental showcase, the 2026 World Cup increasingly resembles three distinct tournaments, with different immigration regimes, security plans and funding models, all a function of different policy choices in each host country. Soccer governing body FIFA "is the only glue that's holding it together," said one person intimately involved in the bid who was granted anonymity to speak candidly about the sensitive political dynamics.

The "United" in the United Bid, once the anchor of the entire project, now competes with three national agendas, each running on its own track. POLITICO spoke to eight people involved in developing a World Cup whose path from conception to execution reflects the crooked arc of North American integration.

"When these events are awarded, they're concepts. They're ideas. They feel good," said Lee Igel, a professor of global sport at NYU who has advised the U.S. Conference of Mayors on sports policy. "But between the award and the event itself, the world changes. Politics change. Leaders change."

The Trump tournament

At the start of the extravagant December event that formally set the World Cup schedule, Trump stood next to Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum and Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney to ceremonially draw the first lottery ball. FIFA officials touted the moment at the Kennedy Center as a milestone: the first time the three leaders had appeared together in person, united by soccer.

The trio also met for 90 minutes off stage in a meeting — facilitated by FIFA as part of World Cup planning.

That novelty was notable. While each national government has named a "sherpa" to serve as its lead, those officials — including Canadian Secretary of State for Sport Adam van Koeverden and Mexican coordinator Gabriela Cuevas — have met only a handful of times in formal trilateral settings. At a January security summit in Colorado Springs, White House FIFA Task Force director Andrew Giuliani did not mention Canada or Mexico during his remarks. Only when FIFA security officer GB Jones took the stage was the international nature of the tournament acknowledged.

"We have been and continue to work very closely with officials from all three host countries on topics including safety, security, logistics, transportation and other topics related to hosting a successful FIFA World Cup," a FIFA spokesperson wrote via email. "This is one World Cup presented across all three host countries and 16 host cities, while showcasing the uniqueness of each individual location and culture."