There was a time — and it’s not ancient history — when the World Cup draw felt like something you stumbled into by accident. A few reporters, a couple of FIFA suits, a table with some ping-pong balls, and maybe a carafe of lukewarm coffee if the budget stretched. You walked in, heard which teams were in which groups, grumbled about the so-called “Group of Death,” and went home.
It was a clerical task. A procedural moment. Something that belonged in the back of the newspaper next to the horse-racing results.
Then promoters got a hold of it.
And the whole thing went off the rails.
Enter Vegas, Stage Left
I was there at the turning point — 1993, Caesars Palace — the first time the World Cup draw got the full Vegas treatment. And brother, let me tell you: FIFA discovered neon the way a teenager discovers energy drinks. Suddenly, we had orchestras, spotlights, celebrity emcees, Robin Williams, and television crews acting like the fate of Western civilization depended on which plastic ball came out of which pot.
The draw wasn’t content anymore.
It was entertainment.
The world’s most boring administrative task had been wrapped in sequins.
That was the moment FIFA realized the draw could be a show — the kind that sells sponsorships and racks up global eyeballs. Ever since then, they’ve been treating it like the Oscars, minus the self-awareness.
Fast-Forward to 2026: And Now… the Participation Trophy
And now, in the latest chapter of “You Cannot Make This Stuff Up,” we get the pièce de résistance: a gold participation trophy for President Donald J. Trump.
For “world peace.”
Yes, the same president whose administration is:
-
green-lighting missile strikes on boats in the Caribbean,
- and dragging the war in Ukraine into a new, murky phase where escalating firepower substitutes for any real strategy.
But sure. World peace.
Gold trophy, and medal.
Gold glitter.
Shine it up nice.
This is classic FIFA theater — the type that confuses flattery with diplomacy and pageantry with substance. They treat geopolitics like a halftime show, tossing out symbolic baubles as if they’re conferring sainthood. Never mind the civilian casualties, the regional blowback, or the thousand unanswered questions about who ordered what and why.
Just smile for the cameras, shake hands, lift your golden participation cup, and pretend the world is grateful.
The Absurdity Runs Full Circle
This is what happens when a once-modest moment gets swallowed by spectacle. The draw used to be about football — about the matchups, the tactics, the fate of nations on the pitch. Now it’s a stage-managed circus where every VIP gets a pat on the back, every politician gets a handshake, and every controversial leader gets a “thank you for playing” keepsake.
And somewhere — in living rooms around the world — fans watch the draw and wonder how something so simple, so honest, got turned into such an elaborate farce.
Maybe It’s Time to Bring Back the Lunchroom
The game deserves better than this.
The players deserve better.
The fans deserve better.
And the world certainly deserves a little more honesty and a lot fewer gold-plated participation awards.
Maybe one day, FIFA will remember that the draw wasn’t meant to be a spectacle, a pageant, or a diplomatic photo-op. It was meant to be a simple reveal — a moment of anticipation before the real drama unfolded on the field.
Until then, buckle up.
The glitter cannons are loaded, the lights are warm, and the next trophy for “global peace” is probably already being polished.