Rudy Giuliani, the former New York mayor who's never met a mega-event he couldn't lobby for, says the United States might host the 2038 World Cup. The kicker? FIFA is reportedly considering a 64-team tournament that would make the current 48-team plan look like a friendly pickup game.
This isn't just a bid. It's an invitation to the biggest, messiest, most gloriously absurd sporting spectacle on earth. And America, with its endless strip malls and stadium complexes, might be the only country insane enough to pull it off.
64 Teams? Why Not 128?
FIFA's expansion obsession has gone full clown car. 32 teams was fine. 48 was bloated. 64 is a cry for help. At that point, you're not holding a World Cup—you're running an elimination tournament for every country that owns a ball.
Imagine the group stage: twelve groups of five to six teams each, with some squads finishing their matches a week before others. The math alone would give a Swiss accountant a stroke. But FIFA doesn't care about math. They care about votes, bribes, and TV contracts. More teams mean more nations feel included, more federations owe favors, and more broadcasters pay premiums.
The US already has the infrastructure—or at least the parking lots. We hosted in 1994, and we're co-hosting in 2026 with Canada and Mexico. By 2038, those stadiums will still be standing, still climate-controlled, and still surrounded by enough fast food to feed an army of hungover fans.
Giuliani: The Pitchman Who Never Quits
Rudy Giuliani is many things—former prosecutor, former mayor, former presidential candidate, former lawyer for a certain ex-president. But he's always a salesman. When he says the US is interested, he's not just floating a trial balloon. He's signaling to FIFA that America is ready to write checks.
Giuliani might not be the official face of the bid—that would likely be a coalition of soccer execs and politicians—but he's the loudest voice in the room. He knows how to talk to FIFA: flattery, promises, and a wink at the corruption that's never fully left the organization. The US didn't win the 2026 bid because of our charming accents. We won because we could guarantee profits.
And profits are the only language FIFA understands. A 64-team World Cup in America would generate billions in revenue. Ticket sales, merchandise, sponsorship, and the inevitable taxpayer-funded stadium upgrades that cities will fight to provide. It's a cash bonanza wrapped in a flag.
The Logistical Nightmare
Let's be real: a 64-team tournament in a country that's 2,800 miles wide is insane. Teams would travel from Los Angeles to Miami, from Seattle to Houston, playing in different time zones every match. Players' bodies would rebel. Jet lag would become a bigger opponent than any defender.
But Americans don't do logistics—we do spectacle. We'll build temporary airports if we have to. We'll rent out entire hotel chains. We'll import so many port-a-potties they'll form their own skyline. The World Cup isn't a soccer tournament; it's a festival of consumption, and nobody consumes like America.
FIFA knows this. They've seen the Super Bowl. They've seen the Olympics. They know we turn everything into a corporate carnival. And they want a cut.
What About the Rest of the World?
Europe will complain, as always. They'll say 64 teams dilutes the quality, which is true. They'll say the tournament is too long, which is also true. They'll say the US doesn't deserve it because we're not a soccer country—and that's partially true. But soccer is growing here faster than anywhere else. MLS is expanding. Youth participation is skyrocketing. The 2026 World Cup will be a coming-out party, and 2038 could be the coronation.
The rest of the world will grumble, but they'll show up. Because the US is where the money is, and where the parties are. And let's face it: no one throws a party like America. We invented Vegas, Disneyland, and the tailgate. A 64-team World Cup would be the tailgate to end all tailgates.
The Verdict: Embrace the Chaos
I say bring it on. Let FIFA expand to 64 teams. Let them expand to 100. Turn the World Cup into a year-long, round-robin, multi-continent monster. The US can handle it. We have the stadiums, the infrastructure, and the sheer audacity to pull it off.
Will it be good for soccer? Probably not. The quality will suffer. The best players will burn out. The group stage will be a joke. But it'll be a hell of a show. And isn't that what we really want? Not purity, not tradition—just a giant, messy, unforgettable spectacle that makes us forget our problems for a month.
So go ahead, Rudy. Make the pitch. Print the bids. Let the bidding wars begin. America's ready for the 2038 World Cup. We're ready for 64 teams. We're ready for chaos. Because if there's one thing we do better than anyone, it's turning chaos into entertainment.
“A 64-team World Cup isn't a tournament—it's an invitation to the biggest, messiest, most gloriously absurd sporting spectacle on earth.”
See you at the tailgate.
