The World Cup is an event brimming with different brews, both human and alcoholic. A grand mixture of nationalistic pride with a competitive twist, the soccer extravaganza brings fanatics from the world over, pining for a sip of sporting glory.
But for the upcoming 2022 World Cup games, the tap may have run dry.
With the recent announcement by FIFA that the country of Qatar will be hosting the 2022 World Cup, a sand-storm of discontent has blown anticipation far out to sea, leaving in its wake a desert of incredulousness.
Despite being pitted against popular vendors such as the United States, Australia and Japan, the oil-rich Middle Eastern country, which is comparable in size to Connecticut, was somehow named most worthy to conduct the 2022 festivities.
Evidence behind such a FIFA settlement has proven as sticky and black as the resource Qatar benefits most from. For one, the Qatar bid was classified as “high risk” by FIFA’s very own inspectors and yet, it trumped the U.S. bid, which was considered the most technically and fiscally sound of all the contenders.
Sepp Blatter, the president of FIFA, justified this decision as a positive step forward into new lands and territory, but the only “positive” expansion seems to be growing in Mr. Blatter’s pockets rather than foreign relations.
Traversing new ground is indeed a valiant cause, after all, when more of the world is included, the sense of unity strengthens and previous contentions tend to fall by the wayside.
The credibility of such a mindset would ultimately be confirmed if the to-be-host country were invested heavily in the sport — another subsidy the affluent Qatari cannot claim in their favor.
The best that Qatar has been able to achieve in the running for the World Cup according to FIFA rankings is 77 — only the top 32 teams can participate in the actual World Cup events. As soccer is clearly not the Qatari forte, Blatter’s claim of playing a new field clearly doesn’t make the cut.
Without a stronghold in soccer, the Qatar case also has a weakness regarding a key element in the spectator’s spirit. The country, which bases its laws around Islam, naturally does not allow alcohol consumption of any kind.
By no means is this a bad policy, but when hosting tournaments as sloshed with booze as the players are with sweat, conflict is sure to arise for both parties involved.
While the above issues are substantial, the biggest concern lies within the realm of security. Although violence is rare in Qatar, there are instances of attacks against Western targets in particular.
On March 19, 2005, for example, a suicide bomber detonated a car-bomb in Doha, the capital city of Qatar, which killed a citizen of the United Kingdom and injured several others.
As the World Cup is rooted primarily within Western culture and the influx of Western travelers is expected to be substantial, these occurrences serve to heighten the sense of unease, further tarnishing the 2022 World Cup splendor before it is even vied for.
Apparently FIFA found it appropriate to stick its fat head deep in the sand for as long as there was oil to suck up, and hence the desire for profit became more important than the interests of the organizations top clientele: the spectators. Qatar may be a strong player on the field of persuasion, but when it comes down to safety and accommodation, they simply are not able to fight fair.
Perhaps these worries will amount nothing. Maybe the minimal space will prove insignificant against the excitement of football valor, the biggest blasts will come from cheering fans and the only digging that goes down has to do with the construction of the nine stadiums Qatar has promised to build.
Let us hope this is the case and the black sludge surrounding FIFA’s risk remains at the bottom of a barrel, out of sight and off all of our hands.












