The FIFA Club World Cup was designed to be a bold new chapter for global club football. A tournament bringing the world’s biggest teams together on one stage, playing at the absolute highest level across some of the largest venues in the United States.
But has it lived up to the hype?
Is it the future of the game, or just another layer in an already overcrowded football calendar? Are fans connecting with it? Are players benefiting? And is this really the kind of “global showcase” FIFA intended — or something else entirely?
Those are the questions hanging over this summer’s tournament as we gear up for the final on July 13th between Chelsea and PSG. Let’s take a closer look at what’s worked, what hasn’t, and what it might mean for the sport going forward.
Fans Aren’t Buying It (Literally)
If you had talked to fans in the U.S. early on in the tournament, you’d have heard a common theme: “Wait… that’s happening right now?”
The lack of buzz has been almost impressive. Part of it is bad timing. The tournament kicked off in the middle of summer alongside the Gold Cup and MLS, splitting attention before it ever had a chance.
But the bigger issue? FIFA misread the room completely. Instead of showcasing matches in America’s world-class soccer-specific stadiums, they crammed them into NFL arenas designed for 80,000 where, predictably, many matches played out in front of seas of empty seats.
Sure, the Rose Bowl saw 80,619 fans turn up for PSG vs. Atlético Madrid in the group stages. And 70,556 showed up at MetLife for Chelsea’s semi-final against Fluminense. But outside of those headline games, attendance averaged just 34,759. That’s solid for MLS but embarrassing in cavernous NFL venues.
The whole thing reeks of the same arrogance we saw from the European Super League in 2021. That doomed project also promised fans “bigger games, more often” — and was met with universal backlash. The Club World Cup feels like FIFA’s globalized version of the same idea. Only this time, they’ve dressed it up with international branding and hoped no one would notice.
To fans, it feels pretty obvious that FIFA are simply trying to get in on the profit from the much more popular club game.
The Football Itself
The early rounds had all the energy of preseason friendlies. Teams didn’t want to lose, but they weren’t exactly laying it all on the line either. And the absolutely wild mismatches didn’t help the cause.
This was most clearly exemplified in a match between German Champions Bayern Munich and OFC (Oceania Football Confederation) Champions League winners Auckland City–whose manager and several key players couldn’t even attend the tournament due to the fact that they were not able to get the time off from their day jobs. Bayern won the match 10-0 in what could only be described as a very leisurely training match from the German side.
To be fair, as the tournament has reached the later stages, the intensity picked up. PSG’s wild celebrations after knocking out the aforementioned Bayern Munich in the quarter finals — Luis Enrique jumping wildly in celebration, players piling on — showed that the squads eventually decided to take it seriously.
But maybe that’s just a case of Stockholm syndrome. After a month slogging through sweltering U.S. cities, it could be that players just figured they might as well go for it.
A Stress Test for 2026? Or a Warning Sign?
FIFA billed this as a test run for the 2026 World Cup. If that’s the case, it raised more red flags than confidence. Players and managers didn’t hold back in criticizing the conditions.
Luis Enrique called it out directly after PSG’s match, saying:
“It’s impossible to perform at a very high level for 90 minutes.”
And he’s not wrong. Games were scheduled for midday kickoffs in July in cities like Orlando, Atlanta, and Nashville — places where summer humidity regularly pushes the heat index over 100°F (38°C).
Jude Bellingham added his own concern, calling the pitches “not great at all” and saying they were “tough on the knees.” Poor turf quality combined with extreme heat made for a brutal playing environment.
All of this so European audiences could enjoy primetime kickoffs. Meanwhile, on the field, these world-class athletes were wilting following an already brutal campaign that has trudged along since last August.
The Club World Cup adds another month of high-stakes football to an already packed calendar. For top players, it could mean 70+ matches a year. That’s a game every five days. No real off-season. No mental reset.
At what point do we stop asking these guys to perform like machines?
To make this work without mass injuries, teams would need put out bigger squads, with more subs, and ultimately a more diluted, less entertaining product. Would fans even still care at that point?
So… What Are We Doing Here?
The Club World Cup isn’t terrible. There have been fun games. Big names. Moments of real quality.
But does it need to exist? Maybe not.
It feels like FIFA is trying to monopolize yet another corner of the game. Fans didn’t ask for this. Players definitely didn’t. Yet here we are, watching the governing body squeeze a few more billion out of an already overloaded sport.
For FIFA, it’s a success. For everyone else? It’s hard to see this as anything but a warning.