As the World Cup grows more global, many fans still struggle to get there 

A Senegalese fan reacts as he watches a broadcast of the World Cup Group I soccer match between Senegal and France in Dakar, Senegal, June 16 [AP Photo]

For years, Mustafa al Saadi and three hospital coworkers traveled abroad together, following Iraq’s national soccer team.

When Iraq qualified for its first World Cup since 1986 — the first in the lifetime of the 32-year-old laboratory technician in Mosul General Hospital’s oncology department — they planned another trip.

Only three of the friends boarded the plane. Al Saadi’s visa application was still pending as he walked to Mosul’s al Muthanna neighborhood to watch Iraq’s match against France, while his friends entered the stadium in Philadelphia nearly 6,000 miles (9,650 kilometers) away.

“It is a very sad feeling to see your close friends present with the national team in every country in the world, but I am not,” al Saadi said, red flares lighting the night sky near the remnants of ancient Nineveh’s fortification wall. He tried to reach his friends during the match, but the calls never connected.

For decades, FIFA has worked to make the World Cup more global. The 2026 tournament reflected that effort more clearly than ever, with the debuts of Cape Verde, Jordan, Uzbekistan and Curaçao. Yet qualifying for the tournament did not guarantee supporters, journalists, referees or even some tournament personnel could enter the co-host countries, where immigration policies remained the responsibility of national governments.

Supporters from about a quarter of qualifying nations faced travel bans, heightened entry restrictions or high U.S. visa refusal rates. The inequalities that shaped who could travel were visible in the stands.

At their match outside Boston, Haiti and Scotland returned to the World Cup stage for the first time in decades. Tens of thousands of kilted Scottish supporters marched through the streets in processions led by bagpipers. Fans screaming “Flower of Scotland” reportedly reached 125 decibels — about as loud as a jet taking off nearby. By contrast, the national anthem of Haiti, whose citizens are subject to U.S. travel restrictions under the Trump administration, rose from a much smaller pocket of supporters waving red-and-blue flags.

For those who couldn’t make the journey, the tournament unfolded instead in hometown fan zones and diaspora communities.

In Mosul, hundreds gathered beneath giant screens to watch Iraq’s first World Cup match in four decades. In Brockton, Massachusetts — home to one of the largest Cape Verdean communities outside the islands — supporters packed restaurants for the match against Spain before spilling into the streets, where fireworks erupted overhead as people leaned out of cars waving flags. At a university in Dakar, Senegalese supporters climbed balconies and window ledges to watch the team’s match against France.

Barriers beyond the field

Before the tournament began, U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk warnedU.S. immigration policies could undermine access to the World Cup, calling for “a massive rethink” of enforcement to protect “human rights and human dignity.”

As part of the Trump administration’s broader immigration crackdown, the U.S. last year began requiring some visitors from 50 countries to post visa bonds of up to $15,000. After FIFA requested an exemption, the administration waived that requirement for qualified World Cup ticket holders from five participating countries — Algeria, Cape Verde, Ivory Coast, Senegal and Tunisia. Supporters still had to complete the standard visa process.

Previous World Cups relied on tournament-specific entry systems that eased travel for many international supporters. Unlike Russia and Qatar, the North American co-hosts generally relied on their existing immigration systems rather than creating tournament-specific entry permits for supporters. Canada required many supporters to apply through its standard visitor visa process, while Mexico continued using its existing visa policies.

Ghanaian journalist Prince Ayim Brown saved money, took extra assignments and even attended a U.S. Embassy training for reporters preparing to cover the tournament. His visa application was ultimately denied by the same embassy without explanation.

“World Cup is the pinnacle of football — every journalist and every football fan wants to be there,” he said.

A State Department spokesperson said the final list of qualified teams had been known for months, giving supporters who required visas time to apply. The department said it deployed more than 600 additional consular staff, made millions of additional visa appointments available and used the FIFA PASS program to prioritize World Cup-related applications while maintaining the same security standards.

Unable to obtain a U.S. visa this year, Dakar salesman Assane Ly watched Senegal’s opener from a fan zone at Cheikh Anta Diop University, where hundreds packed balconies and ledges overlooking a giant screen. He misses the chance to build bonds with fans of other teams in the melting pot of the tournament.

“The World Cup is supposed to be a moment when geopolitics are on hold, when the host country welcomes people from all nationalities, skin colors and religions to come together to celebrate football,” he said.

Another island of Cape Verde

For diaspora communities that spent decades cheering for other countries, the tournament also offered something new: the chance to finally cheer for their own.

When Cape Verde held Spain to a scoreless draw, Jaysen Gonçalves was there. A veteran of the previous two World Cups, he bought tickets as soon as Cape Verde qualified. Inside the stadium, however, he estimated Spain supporters outnumbered Cape Verde fans roughly 9-to-1.

“It shows,” he said. “That is financial.”

Back in Brockton, where Gonçalves owns Luanda Restaurant with his mother Amelia, the celebration unfolded very differently.

For more than two decades, World Cup watch parties there had filled with Portugal and Brazil jerseys — reflecting Cape Verde’s historical, linguistic and family ties.

“This year,” Amelia Gonçalves said, “it’s all Cape Verde.” Children drifted between tables while customers balanced laptops beside plates of cachupa, Cape Verde’s national stew. When Cape Verde held Spain scoreless, sparkling wine appeared.

“It was like we won the World Cup,” Gonçalves said.

Watching goalkeeper Vozinha make seven saves against Spain left her too emotional to sleep.

“That means he gives us a lot of visibility to the world,” she said. “People can see us now. ‘Yes, there is a country — an island — called Cape Verde.’”

‘Now Mosul is a global city’

Al Saadi’s stalled visa application changed what he imagined his World Cup would be. Two friends who received visas had traveled to the U.S. before — one even has family there. Al Saadi said he was still waiting for a response, with no explanation for why his application — submitted a month before the World Cup — remained pending.

The visa process can require paperwork, fees and in-person interviews. Even getting to that stage had become complicated after the U.S. suspended routine consular services in Iraq, forcing applicants to seek appointments elsewhere.

Instead of joining his friends in Philadelphia, he helped local organizers create the fan zone in al Muthanna. There, a man in Iraq’s white jersey strode through the crowd on stilts. Teenage boys danced with Iraqi flags draped across their shoulders as spotlights swept over the square and music echoed between buildings.

“By having this event, we brought the World Cup from America, Mexico and Canada to the city of Mosul,” he said. “Now Mosul is a global city.” MDT/AP