What Does It Feel Like to Live in a World Cup Host City?

By Juan S. Larrosa-Fuentes (April 20, 2026)

A few days ago, I was in a meeting with some foreign attendees and, before we began—during that moment when everyone greets each other and chats about everyday matters—one of them asked me what it felt like to live in a World Cup host city.

As the session was getting underway, I replied that the feeling was one of mixed emotions and, overall, negative ones: anger, frustration, and sadness. As I have pointed out in previous columns, it bothers me to live in a city that, despite having known for years that it would host a sporting event of this magnitude, once again finds itself racing against the clock, finishing projects in haste and, in many cases, with poorly executed work.

Above all, the opportunity is once again lost for investment in urban infrastructure to have a broader impact beyond allowing visitors to move, more or less efficiently, between the airport and the Akron Stadium, and to travel along a few main avenues and key cultural spaces. It happened with the Pan American Games, with the world leaders’ summit, and with other events: once again, a missed opportunity.

It is also frustrating that Guadalajara’s participation is so limited, with only a handful of matches, in a country where football is deeply rooted. In reality, this is a World Cup that will be played mostly in the United States, and the participation of Mexico and Canada seems more like an add-on than a genuine co-hosting arrangement.

Another element must be added: the growing commodification of sports. Most people in Guadalajara will not be able to attend the matches. So far, I do not know anyone who has tickets. Prices are exorbitant and designed for a global elite. Dynamic pricing systems push this logic to the extreme: if someone can pay more, the price goes up. In this way, sport drifts away from its social and cultural dimension, from that space where people come together, recognize one another, and share.

And perhaps the most important point is this: the World Cup will take place in a city marked by multiple socio-environmental crises, particularly a crisis of disappearances and a forensic crisis. There are unidentified bodies in morgues, and families are still searching for their missing loved ones. It is a contradiction that so much is invested in the security of people who will spend only two or three days here for the World Cup, while there is neglect and indifference toward local security problems.

Although I was a child, I still remember the 1986 World Cup and the joy of having matches played at Estadio Jalisco. I do not know what our collective memory of the 2026 World Cup will be, but hopefully it will not be one that leads us to repeat this way of organizing ourselves and hosting those who visit our city.

My interlocutor’s eyes widened in surprise, as she was unaware of all these issues. Then, as happens with everything these days, the conversation ended and we went on with our lives.

This text was originally read on Informativo NTR Radio, broadcast on April 20, 2026, and hosted by journalist Sonia Serrano.