How the U.S. can lock up rights to host the 2026 FIFA World Cup
If the World Cup is to come back to the United States, we'll know so four years from now.
FIFA announced on Tuesday that it will pick a host for the 23rd edition of the tournament in May 2020, halfway between the 2018 edition in Russia and Qatar 2022. It will be the first World Cup bid since the one in 2010 was bungled in a mire of corruption and graft.
But first, over the next year, FIFA's new Congress will consider a few tweaks to the bidding parameters, requirements and process. As new FIFA president Gianni Infantino promised during his campaign, FIFA will look into increasing the number of countries in the World Cup field from 32 to 40, or perhaps even 48. And it will also look into re-embracing joint bidding while even contemplating whether entire confederations could bid in unison for a tournament spread across its member nations.
Human rights and environmental considerations may now also be taken into account – that, too, is to be determined. Finally, bids that obviously fall short of the requirements will potentially be eliminated from contention before the vote.
But even if all of these changes come to pass, they universally seem to benefit a bid by the United States, which hosted the tournament in 1994. It can accommodate a larger tournament footprint, with more games requiring more big stadiums, more easily than just about any other country. Human rights conditions obviously aren't an issue. Environmental and sustainability concerns can be anticipated fairly easily. And even the joint bid could prove a benefit.
How so?
Well, assuming FIFA retains its continental rotational system in awarding World Cups – which stipulates that after your continent has hosted a World Cup it is ineligible to get the next two – and there's no reason to think it will change this policy, there is very little competition for 2026. After all, of the countries eager to host, England is in Europe, which gets the 2018 tournament. And China and an Australia-and-New Zealand joint bid are in Asia, which has been awarded 2022. There are no more serious suitors in South America or Africa – which got 2014 and 2010, respectively, and aren't thought to be due for another – than Colombia and Morocco. Potential bids from Kazakhstan and a joint effort by Turkey and Azerbaijan aren't thought to have much of a chance.
Which leaves CONCACAF, consisting of North and Central America and the Caribbean, in the driver's seat. Canada and Mexico have declared an interest in hosting as well – Mexico, in fact, also put on the 1970 and 1986 World Cups. There's opportunity for compromise here.
The only World Cup ever to be co-hosted in 2002 presented significant logistical problems, even though Japan and South Korea are some of the most rigidly organized countries in the world. But the new FIFA regime's willingness to reconsider co-hosts, or possibly even entire confederations, makes for a simple solution.
If it isn't looking like the United States will win a bid on its own, it could simply join forces with Canada or Mexico or both and put it on together. With games spread around two or three countries, all would still gain from the benefits of hosting the world's biggest sporting event.
A communal North American bid, in other words, could lock this thing up years before the vote even happens. Assuming our continent isn't carved up by walls and fences.
Leander Schaerlaeckens is a soccer columnist for Yahoo Sports. Follow him on Twitter @LeanderAlphabet.
