For years some conservatives mocked soccer as un-American or ideologically suspect. That rhetoric has softened, but skepticism remains in parts of the right: outlets still claim the U.S. “doesn’t care about soccer,” and elements of the MAGA movement have sparred with the sport’s progressive voices, especially on the women’s national team.
With the 2026 World Cup set to be co-hosted by the United States, Canada and Mexico, President Trump has publicly promoted the tournament and deepened his relationship with FIFA. That alignment — including a visible rapport with FIFA president Gianni Infantino and FIFA’s ties to Trump’s new “Board of Peace” — has turned the event into a conspicuous political signal as well as an athletic showcase.
For Trump, the World Cup push fits a familiar pattern: embracing high-profile entertainment and sporting events to bolster personal brand and reach wider audiences. Conservatives who already like his media-savvy approach see this as consistent with his record of riding popular culture — from wrestling to reality TV — into the political arena.
But soccer’s American audience looks different from the traditional conservative base. The United States’ soccer fanbase tends to be younger, more immigrant and, on average, more liberal than fans of baseball or football. That mix has made the sport a site of cultural friction at times, from protests to disputes over league policy, and has left many in the MAGA movement wary of embracing it wholesale.
Yet supporters’ culture inside stadiums is often deliberately apolitical. Organized fans’ groups emphasize passion for the team and a welcoming matchday environment over ideological gatekeeping. Longtime supporters say they try to keep chants focused on soccer and to exclude hateful behavior, even amid anxiety after Trump’s 2016 election about how rhetoric could spill into stands.
Demographic change is also shifting soccer’s reach. The sport’s growth since the 1994 World Cup, together with immigration and changing youth sports habits, has spread soccer into suburbs and communities once dominated by baseball. Political scientist observers point to places like Staten Island — a conservative borough that supported Trump — as evidence soccer is moving into less traditionally liberal areas.
Some conservatives are already warming to the idea that soccer’s local, family- and community-oriented structure fits conservative priorities. For those Republicans who follow the game, the World Cup provides an opportunity to celebrate local pride and national achievement without having to adopt the sport’s prevailing cultural associations.
Still, any large-scale conversion of the MAGA base will likely depend less on political persuasion and more on spectacle. A strong U.S. performance in 2026, or the global star power the tournament brings, could normalize soccer for millions of Americans who currently view it as foreign or unfamiliar. That mainstreaming would make it easier for skeptical voters to accept soccer as part of American life.
If that happens, current supporters face a new challenge: integrating incoming fans whose politics may differ. Many existing supporters would prefer more fans to fewer, even if it means managing fresh cultural tensions. For Trump, then, the World Cup is less a straightforward outreach exercise than a political gamble — one that could expand the sport’s audience while exposing it to the exact cultural dynamics that made soccer controversial in the first place.