Imagine thousands of people glued to radios, phones and TVs, pouring into the streets of Tehran to celebrate Iran’s men’s soccer team securing its seventh World Cup qualification. Now transport yourself southwest and picture a similar wave of joy in Khartoum — where, despite a civil war that has displaced the team to Mauritania, Sudan could make history with its first-ever World Cup berth.
These scenes, hopeful and plausible given both teams’ current rankings, could be shut down before they begin. As the United States prepares to co-host the 2026 World Cup alongside Canada and Mexico, its return to hard-line immigration policies under Donald Trump, which could take effect even before qualifiers end in November, threatens to overshadow the event.
According to a leaked memo reported by multiple media outlets in March, the U.S. administration is drafting new travel restrictions targeting citizens from up to 43 countries. Iran and Sudan would reportedly fall into the most severe category, facing a full visa suspension. Other African, Middle Eastern and Muslim-majority nations could face similar measures. In the third tier — where partial or full visa bans would apply unless governments meet specific U.S. requirements within 60 days — are several teams still in contention for World Cup qualification, including Burkina Faso, Benin, Cape Verde and Cameroon. These restrictions could prevent not only players and coaches, but also fans and officials from entering the country — effectively sidelining entire nations from the world’s most global tournament.
This specter hovering over the World Cup is a chilling echo of Trump’s first-term travel bans — a warning that politics in the U.S. may once again decide who plays and who’s left out. But this wouldn’t be the first time Washington has allowed ideology, identity or foreign policy to shape access to sport. The prospect of entire teams, fans and officials being barred from the 2026 tournament evokes a deeper, often overlooked history.
From Muhammad Ali’s suspension from boxing in 1967 due to his refusal to serve in the Vietnam War, to this year’s restrictions on transgender athletes, the U.S. has repeatedly drawn lines around who gets to compete — and who doesn’t.
The case of Duke University’s South Sudanese basketball player, Khaman Maluach — projected to be a first-round pick in the NBA draft this June — could be the next flashpoint. South Sudan falls into the second tier of countries affected by the proposed restrictions, which involve a partial suspension of visas. In addition, in early April, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced that the U.S. would revoke all visas held by South Sudanese passport-holders, citing the transitional government’s failure to accept U.S. deportees in what he described as a “timely manner.”
Soccer is not immune to these restrictions, and its advocates have repeatedly highlighted how flawed or unevenly applied immigration policies impact players and teams — who have long prepared for their moment in the spotlight — as well as the audiences who hope to cheer them on.
During Trump’s first term in 2017, the Tibetan women’s soccer team was denied U.S. visas to attend the Dallas Cup in Texas. Despite being invited by the tournament organizers and having all necessary documentation, the team was told it had “no good reason” to visit the U.S. The players, mostly Tibetan refugees living in India, were denied entry without a clear explanation, forcing them to cancel their participation.
Similarly, in 2019, nine players from the Guatemalan under-15 national soccer team were denied U.S. visas to attend the boys’ under-15 championship of the Confederation of North, Central America and Caribbean Association Football (CONCACAF), held that year in Bradenton, Florida. Despite submitting all required documentation and attending scheduled appointments, the players’ visa applications were rejected, with no clear reason given. This left the team at a competitive disadvantage, as they had to replace the denied players with others who had received visas but had not undergone the same preparation.
That same year, the Cuban national soccer team faced serious hurdles when their captain and best player, Yordan Santa Cruz, was denied a U.S. visa to participate in the CONCACAF Gold Cup, substantially weakening the squad.
In 2021, Ali Adnan, an Iraqi playing in North America’s Major League Soccer (MLS), faced significant visa challenges, exacerbated by COVID-19 travel restrictions, which prevented him from participating in MLS away matches with the Vancouver Whitecaps. He was also unable to play home matches after the Canadian club relocated to the U.S.-based Rio Tinto Stadium, home of the MLS team Real Salt Lake, because of the pandemic. As a result, the club and the player were forced to mutually terminate the contract.
These issues could occur on a broader scale given the bigger stage of the World Cup — and in full view of the global media, which could exacerbate and politicize any response. A similar scenario would send a stark message, contradicting soccer’s often-celebrated inclusiveness, and mark a serious setback for FIFA. Its president, Gianni Infantino, has repeatedly promoted the 2026 World Cup — expanded to 48 teams for the first time — as the most inclusive in the tournament’s history.
Concerns over access were already raised during Trump’s first term, when the U.S., Canada and Mexico were bidding to host the tournament. In March 2017, Infantino himself warned that the travel bans — initially imposed on citizens from Iran, Somalia, Sudan, Yemen, Syria and Libya — could jeopardize any U.S. bid. “Teams who qualify for a World Cup need to have access to the country, otherwise there is no World Cup. That is obvious,” he told reporters at the time. Yet just a year later, FIFA awarded the 2026 tournament to the North American trio — with 75% of matches set to be played in the U.S., a detail the Trump administration had actively lobbied for.
In a letter dated May 2, 2018 — first reported by The New York Times — Trump assured Infantino that “all eligible athletes, officials and fans from all countries around the world would be able to enter the United States without discrimination” during the tournament. The letter was cited in FIFA’s bid evaluation report, after which the world football governing body ceased making any public reference to concerns about access. Joe Biden’s victory in 2020 was then followed by the repeal of the travel ban, which eased the situation considerably.
With Trump’s return to the White House, the threat of exclusion has resurfaced. Yet Infantino, who has long positioned himself as a defender of underrepresented regions like Africa and Asia, and secured their electoral support through generous annual funding directed to their national associations, has remained silent on the potential impact of new U.S. travel restrictions.
Infantino’s close alliance with Trump — the FIFA president described cooperation with the U.S. administration as “absolutely crucial” for the success of the World Cup — makes any direct confrontation on issues of access and participation highly unlikely. Moreover, Infantino would be reluctant to lose the support of the president of the world’s most influential country, who has referred to him as the “king of soccer.” Their relationship is so close that they have met nearly 10 times since December, with the most recent meeting taking place on May 6 at the White House, involving a task force focused on preparations for next year’s competition. The FIFA president also joined Trump on his state visit to Saudi Arabia on May 14, while the 211 FIFA member federations were convening at their annual congress in Paraguay. It was unprecedented for a FIFA president to miss any part of the congress, where FIFA voters from six continental bodies gathered before the main meeting.
Infantino’s silence is thus emblematic of a broader pattern of calculated opportunism, adapting his principles to serve his political interests, even when that involves replicating the very models he once condemned. In 2021, Infantino publicly denounced the European Super League — a breakaway project backed by Europe’s wealthiest clubs — as elitist and anticompetitive. Yet behind the scenes, he was quietly developing a similar initiative in Africa, which materialized in 2023 with the launch of the African Football League.
Infantino is also the primary advocate for the 32-team Club World Cup, which will kick off in the U.S. in June. This tournament, which brings together the club teams that have won the main continental competitions in the previous four years, along with the best clubs around the world, selected according to a club ranking from the same period, could have faced similar travel restrictions had they been enacted at the start of Trump’s second term, as he promised during his election campaign. However, as of now, there have been no reported issues with visa approvals for African and Asian teams participating in the event, despite earlier concerns about potential access barriers. The only player who could have been affected is Al Ahly’s Palestinian player Wessam Abou Ali. Although the Aalborg-born striker holds a Danish passport and is expected to take part in the tournament, one of his previous goal celebrations — which resembled a pose associated with former Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar — went viral on social media and sparked speculation that it could have raised concerns with U.S. immigration authorities, potentially complicating his visa approval process.
While clubs may appear relatively unaffected for now, fans, who often lack institutional backing and public visibility, are already experiencing the consequences of strict U.S. immigration policies. New Lines has confirmed that as of the time of writing, at least 10 Egyptian supporters of Al Ahly, eight Tunisian supporters of Esperance and one Saudi fan of Al Hilal have been denied visas after expressing their intention to attend the Club World Cup during interviews at their respective U.S. embassies.
Although U.S. authorities do not disclose the reasons for visa denials — leaving it unclear why these individuals, some of whom had already purchased match tickets, were refused entry — the situation brings to light a perhaps overlooked but critical issue. While organizers and professional teams often have the resources and institutional support to overcome travel restrictions, ordinary fans — the lifeblood of football’s global culture — face barriers that can prevent them from reaching soccer’s grandest stages.
According to data on global visa wait times from the U.S. Department of State, the average period between an applicant’s fee payment and interview date varies widely depending on the embassy’s location, which may often be far from the applicant’s residence, further complicating the process for those in countries with limited U.S. diplomatic presence.
Fans from Cairo and Riyadh — home to Al Ahly and Al Hilal — face relatively short wait times of approximately six weeks and four weeks, respectively. By contrast, supporters of other teams that have qualified for the Club World Cup face much longer delays. For instance, a fan of Esperance in Tunis would need to wait around three months for an interview. Fans of Argentina’s River Plate or Boca Juniors face a wait of over five months. The most substantial delay affects supporters of Monterrey in Mexico; as of April 25, their estimated wait time is about 10 months.
This means that a fan wishing to attend Monterrey’s first match on June 17 would have needed to apply by at least Aug. 15, 2024 — well before tickets for the tournament, which serve as the primary proof of purpose for travel to the U.S., were even available. In fact, the Club World Cup ticket allocation reserved for supporters of the participating teams only went on sale on Dec. 19, 2024.
Actually, as U.S. State Department officials explained to The Athletic last February when discussing the 2026 World Cup, holding a match ticket — or even a Fan Zone pass, which allows access to exclusive areas outside the stadiums in host cities — is unlikely to be sufficient grounds for securing a visa. Applicants, especially young men from countries like Morocco or Nigeria, are generally expected to show proof of strong ties at home, such as stable employment, long-term residency or a history of international travel. Even presenting a ticket during a visa interview poses challenges: Mobile devices are typically banned from U.S. embassies, making it difficult to show digital tickets, while printed versions carry risks of forgery.
Meanwhile, under the Trump administration, scrutiny is only expected to intensify, following an executive order calling for stricter screening of foreign visitors. An Al Ahly fan whose application got rejected said that “it’s all about luck.” He added that the official interviewing him didn’t seem in the mood to give him the visa. “He didn’t even ask me why I wanted to travel to the U.S. or request any of the required documents for the visa,” he told New Lines.
Another Al Ahly supporter, whose visa application was rejected after an interview lasting barely a minute, voiced his deep disappointment and frustration at not being able to travel to the U.S. to support his team. “They’re clearly just trying to make people spend a lot of money,” he said, pointing out that the visa application alone cost him $200. “It was my biggest dream to attend the Club World Cup. My team is facing Lionel Messi in the opening match, and I won’t be able to attend it.”
As if that weren’t enough, for those lucky enough to obtain a visa, the screening doesn’t stop — it continues until they reach the U.S. On April 17, the U.S. embassy in Cairo posted a warning on Facebook that said authorities would “continuously check visa holders to ensure they follow all U.S. laws and immigration rules — and we will revoke their visas and deport them if they don’t.”
The same seemingly unexplained strictness was also experienced by the Tunisian fans of Esperance. One of them claims to know the reason. “I saw through the glasses of the official who was going through my Facebook profile. The only reason they must have refused my visa application is my posts in support of Palestine. I know six other fans who publicly support Palestine and whose visas were rejected. We are fine here in Tunisia, we have good salaries and no intention of emigrating, but they don’t care about that,” he said.
Not all fans are forced to rely on luck and risk humiliation, however. Citizens of 42 other countries — including Japan, South Korea and Australia, as well as many in Europe — are expected to have relatively smooth access to the U.S. for the 2025 Club World Cup or next year’s World Cup. These countries are part of a visa waiver program, the Electronic System for Travel Authorization, which allows their citizens to travel to the United States without a visa, provided their visit is for tourism or business and does not exceed 90 days.
These are only expectations, as even foreign supporters already living in the U.S. seem to have been targeted by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). During the weekend of May 10, for example, ICE raids in the Tennessee capital prompted Latino members of the Nashville SC supporters group “La Brigada de Oro” to skip their team’s home match against Charlotte FC, fearing that they would be profiled on the way there. In an atmosphere of fear, supporters — including individuals whose visa or documentation status could be precarious by Trump administration standards — try to avoid even the smallest risk.
Compounding the potential chaos of travel restrictions are rising tensions with co-hosts Canada and Mexico, fueled by Trump’s tariffs and his open questioning of Canada’s territorial sovereignty. These strains threaten the unity of the three countries, which was central to their joint bid for the tournament, as emphasized by Carlos Cordeiro, the U.S. Soccer Federation president, when the World Cup hosting rights were awarded. They also risk complicating any efforts to ensure that all those entitled to participate are able to do so.
Pulling out of the tournament would be irrational for either Canada or Mexico, given the economic losses they would incur and the fact that the U.S. could swiftly take over their hosting duties. In any case, their logistical role remains limited: They are home to only five of the 16 host cities, making the idea of relocating teams or entire groups to either country largely unrealistic. The most likely outcome is that Canada and Mexico will avoid directly challenging U.S. travel policies, opting instead to maintain harmony and ensure the tournament proceeds smoothly.
With the qualifiers still underway and no team yet guaranteed a place, there is little room for concrete action. FIFA is unlikely to step in — perhaps quietly hoping that the fewest possible “problematic” nations qualify. And with the most vulnerable continental confederations, like those from Africa and Asia, aligned with Infantino, the responsibility for finding solutions would likely fall to individual governments and local soccer associations.
Or, worse, no one will step up, leaving the international community to await the decisions of Trump and his administration, who, for all their flaws, have at least been transparent in showing that not all citizens are treated equally.
“People want to come, but they’re not coming,” Geoff Freeman, the U.S. Travel Association’s CEO, told ESPN. “It gets down to these visa wait times. It gets down to the customs inefficiencies. It gets down to a perception in instances that people aren’t welcome. We’re very concerned,” he said, highlighting how recent government-wide budget cuts are expected to further slow down visa processing.
As governments and soccer institutions remain silent for now, nongovernmental organizations are speaking out. “FIFA should publicly acknowledge the threat U.S. immigration policies pose to the tournament’s integrity and urge the U.S. government to ensure that all qualified teams, support staff, media, and fans will have equal access to enter the U.S. regardless of nationality, religion, or opinion. FIFA should also establish clear benchmarks and timelines for U.S. immigration policy changes needed to ensure respect for the rights of players, fans, and other participants in the World Cup and be prepared to reconsider the hosting decision if such guarantees cannot be secured,” said Minky Worden, director of global initiatives at Human Rights Watch.
In theory, hosting a tournament in a country like the United States — wealthy, developed, with ready-made stadiums and infrastructure — should make for a smooth process. Instead, politics have become a stumbling block. Stricter visa rules, long processing delays and a perception that the country has become unwelcoming are creating deep uncertainty. Stakeholders from national teams to fans are already struggling to plan for the Club World Cup, and with the 2026 World Cup on the horizon, those concerns are only intensifying.
As the world prepares for the World Cup, marketed as a celebration of unity across borders, it becomes increasingly clear that access remains unequal and politically charged. The beautiful game risks becoming a mirror of the very divisions that, historically and cyclically, have undermined global harmony — and that soccer seeks to transcend. If players, coaches or fans are denied entry based on nationality, faith or the passport they carry, the promise of a truly global tournament will collapse.
In the end, the question is no longer just about who qualifies on the pitch, but about who will even be allowed to show up.
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