Somali World Cup soccer referee, Omar Artan, who was banned from entry into the US. Photo: Omar Artan’s Facebook page.
I know Pete Hegseth put his foot in his mouth and took his eye off the ball on a beach in Normandy the other day when, during a D-Day anniversary gathering, he declared: “Sadly, today, different European beaches are stormed by different dangerous ideologies.”
Critics described the speech as grotesque and inappropriate for such a solemn and commemorative occasion. Yet if Hegseth was trying to project an image of a vigilant and uncompromising America, events surrounding the World Cup have suggested that message is being heard rather more widely than intended.
A winger receives the ball on the touchline and, with three defenders converging, pirouettes through.
You know something is amiss when a World Cup referee is denied entry to the United States while Canada and Mexico appear to present no such obstacles.
That is what happened when Somali match official Omar Artan was refused entry because of “vetting concerns”. I do not know the details of the case, but after arriving at Miami International Airport on a diplomatic passport, Artan was stopped by US Customs and Border Protection. Nor was this any ordinary referee. Artan—widely regarded as Africa’s leading official—was the recipient of the 2025 CAF Men’s Referee of the Year award. He was an esteemed professional effectively shown the red card by one of the tournament’s host nations and held for eleven hours. Perhaps it was naive of him to think there would be no problems given that around eighty per cent of Somali visa applications are refused.
It did not end there.
Aymen Hussein, the Iraqi international nicknamed Abu Tubar, was reportedly subjected to more than six hours of questioning upon arrival in the United States. He was eventually allowed entry, but Iraq’s team photographer was not. This is not how to win friends and influence people. Every footballing nation follows its team to the World Cup. Support staff are part of that travelling football family too.
Elsewhere, Uzbekistan’s players faced much longer visa processing times than the Dutch players they happened to be playing in a pre-tournament friendly. Such unequal treatment breeds not only frustration but resentment. The online backlash was immediate.
A playmaker threads a pass through a forest of legs.
For a tournament that prides itself on bringing the world together, these incidents send precisely the opposite message. Football’s greatest competition is supposed to transcend borders, politics and prejudice. Instead, too many teams have found themselves confronting bureaucracy, suspicion and barriers before they have even stepped onto the pitch.
Even if this is intended to signal that America’s borders are secure and uncompromising, it is not a good look for any host nation. Nor is it in keeping with the spirit of the World Cup.
Nor were those isolated incidents.
Swiss striker Breel Embolo found his visa placed under review and was unable to join his teammates until several days after the rest of the squad had assembled. Perhaps less surprisingly, given renewed tensions between Washington and Tehran, the Iranian national team spent days navigating visa procedures through the US consulate in Turkey. Entry permissions were reportedly limited to match-day requirements, while a significant number of delegation members were denied visas altogether.
South Africa’s national team also arrived later than planned after visa complications affected members of its travelling party. The episode inevitably raised awkward questions. At a time when Washington was publicly welcoming selected groups of South African migrants and refugees, critics wondered whether footballers from parts of the Global South were being afforded the same urgency and consideration.
A full-back races shoulder to shoulder with an attacker and then, at precisely the right moment, hooks the ball away.
The stories kept coming.
Members of the Uzbekistan squad reportedly faced unusually intrusive security procedures, including searches involving bomb-sniffing dogs. Images and video footage of this circulated internationally, attracting considerable attention and criticism.
Supporters from Europe have not been entirely immune either. Some Scottish fans who qualified for visa-free travel under the ESTA programme saw their authorisations revoked shortly before departure. Others, having already purchased match tickets and accommodation, found themselves unable to travel after visa applications were delayed or rejected, leaving them substantially out of pocket.
The Senegalese delegation experienced repeated secondary inspections and extensive searches at ports of entry, disrupting preparations. Staff members complained of humiliating treatment and some openly alleged racial bias in the way they had been handled.
Behind the headlines were dozens of less-publicised cases. Coaches, medical staff, analysts, interpreters and team officials encountered visa delays that prevented them from travelling with their squads. Family members of players found themselves unable to attend the tournament because applications remained unresolved or were rejected outright.
A striker rounds the goalkeeper with a touch so measured.
Taken individually, each case could be dismissed as an administrative complication or security precaution. Collectively, however, they painted a different picture: a tournament in which access appeared unevenly distributed and in which nationality often seemed to determine how smoothly one crossed the border.
Whether that perception is entirely fair became almost beside the point. Perception matters in international sport. The World Cup is supposed to be football’s greatest celebration of openness and global participation. Instead, stories of delayed visas, lengthy interrogations, missed flights and disrupted preparations threaten to become an unwelcome subplot to the tournament itself.
For FIFA, the question is an uncomfortable one: what is the point of awarding the world’s biggest sporting event to a host nation if some of the world’s players, officials, staff and supporters struggle simply to get through the front door?
A winning goal arrives after twenty passes.
