Mexico’s opening ceremony was a masterclass in misplaced priorities. While the stadium erupted for pyrotechnics and choreography that cost more than some national team budgets, the actual sport—the thing we supposedly gathered to watch—remained a secondary concern.
Shakira’s hips did not lie, but the tournament’s infrastructure apparently did. Here we are in 2026, celebrating a competition whose governing body has spent decades presiding over corruption, match-fixing allegations, and a refereeing system that makes coin tosses look scientifically rigorous. The response? Hire better dancers.
The opening ceremony featured artists from the official soundtrack as if the World Cup were now primarily an MTV property with a football match attached. The irony is exquisite: we invested spectacular sums in entertainment while the sport itself staggers under the weight of its own dysfunction. VAR is still a punchline. Goalkeeper positioning rules remain incomprehensibly applied. Player welfare is negotiable depending on which confederation holds the broadcast rights.
But sure, let’s talk about the lighting rig.
This is what modern sport has become—a vehicle for spectacle that obscures rather than celebrates athletic excellence. The ceremony was undoubtedly brilliant. It was also deeply stupid. We’ve built a system where the opening show matters more than whether the tournament’s infrastructure can actually deliver fair competition.
The matches begin now. Somewhere in the noise and glitter, actual football will happen. Whether anyone notices depends entirely on whether there’s a camera pointed at it.