The official X account of Copa América put out a post during the opening Group C game between Uruguay and Panama. “Look who’s here,” it read. Attached were photos of young, glamorous social media influencers posing as they enjoyed the game from the executive boxes.
The post soon went viral and has been viewed more than 7m times. Not by fans expressing joy, but rather by the Americas joining together to ask: “Who?”
The exchange exposes the fundamental problem with this year’s Copa América, which is being hosted in the US. There’s nothing wrong with social media influencers, and it would be foolish for any organization to discount the potential marketing power they can bring. But the tweet seemed to portray this year’s Copa as some kind of aspirational event for the wealthy rather than a tournament for everyone, whether they’re a US soccer fanatic, a South American immigrant in the States or a traveling fan.
Under Conmebol’s previous hosting system, which was thrown into disarray by Covid-19 and political factors, Ecuador was in line to host the 2024 tournament. Instead, it was moved to the US as a joint venture between Conmebol and Concacaf. US Soccer also receives a sanctioning fee, though the American governing body expects to make less this time than it did for the 2016 Copa América Centenario when it played a more active role in organizing the tournament.
Attracting fans from the US’s Latino immigrant communities was never going to be an problem. After the Copa América Centenario, Conmebol assumed it could always take its flagship tournament back to the US and draw large crowds in NFL stadiums (this ignored the fact that the 2016 edition had its own attendance issues). It would also serve as a tune-up for the World Cup, allowing the domestic organizers to test sites and build anticipation before the US co-hosts the tournament in 2026.
But, aside from some absorbing action on the pitch, this year’s Copa has largely been a dud. The competition has been hurt by poor ticket sales and barren stadiums. The Miami Dolphins’ Hard Rock Stadium, where the influencers sat, was half full for Uruguay v Panama. Only 29,000 turned out for Venezuela v Ecuador at California’s Levi’s Stadium, a venue with a capacity of 65,500. Even the host nation, playing at the home of the Dallas Cowboys in their tournament opener, could muster only 48,000 fans in an 80,000 capacity stadium.
Argentina’s matches have sold out, although much of that has been down to people flocking to see Lionel Messi, even though he was rested for Saturday’s victory over Peru. Even Mexico, usually a reliable bet to pack out stadiums in the US, played their opener in a three-quarters full NRG Stadium in Houston (attendance was better for their next game, in Los Angeles).
It’s easy to get the diehard supporter to show up for their beloved team. It’s tougher to win over potential soccer fans – or fans who are already spending money on tickets for Major League Soccer, which opted not to take a break for the tournament. That decision also limited the number of MLS stadiums, which are smaller and easier to sell out for matches involving less popular teams, that could be used for the tournament.
It’s natural that fans will he harder to attract in the US than in South America, where soccer is king and the tournament has a 108-year history. But, in fairness to this year’s tournament, there have been problems with the Copa in South America too. During the 2019 edition, the most recent tournament not affected by Covid-19, even the hosts Brazil failed to sell out stadiums. Less-than-marquee matchups featuring Bolivia, Venezuela, Ecuador and guest side Japan drew fewer than 10,000 fans
Perhaps some in those soccer-loving countries were priced out at the tournament five years ago. That’s certainly the case for many fans in the US this time around. Dynamic ticket pricing has made the cost of games exorbitant. Add in the price of parking at the stadium or paying for an Uber, an unavoidable choice with most venues not easily accessible by public transport, and the get-out-the-door price for this year’s Copa starts at $200. The average price for the opening game of the tournament, Argentina v Canada, was more than $500, although much of that was probably due to the Messi factor. Then again, catching Mexico v Venezuela would have set you back $120 for the cheapest ticket, before fees and all the extras around matchday such as parking and food.
Even those willing to stump up are finding that watching a Copa América can be disruptive. Colombia fans packed into NRG Stadium in Houston, but most will have had to take vacation time to do so with the match starting at 5pm on a Monday.
That wasn’t the worst kick-off though. Shifting tickets for Ecuador v Jamaica at 3pm on a Wednesday in an NFL stadium with a capacity of 61,000 was always going to require some marketing muscle. But rather than a cheap day out, tickets remained above $70 per seat just a few hours before kick-off. Compare that with this year’s Euros, hosted in Germany where fans don’t need much encouragement to watch soccer, where tickets could be picked up as cheap as $32. European federations were able to sell 270,000 tickets for a similar fee and around a million tickets were sold for $60 or less. Even as the Euros reach the knockout phase, prices are paltry compared to Conmebol’s entry fee. A ticket for Italy v Switzerland can be picked up on a resale site for $130, a cheaper offering than the average price for the cheapest ticket at Copa América. While Uefa controls the sale of tickets to the Euros, Conmebol turned its ticket operations over to individual stadiums and third-party operators.
Then again, the majority of fans were priced out before a ball was kicked. In countries like Mexico, where the average monthly wage hovers about $1,000, much higher than the $400-$500 in Peru or $732 in Bolivia, serious budgeting would be required to see a single game. Following a team for the entire group stage or the whole tournament would require a huge budget, with fans needing to fly across the US and stay in cities where the cost of living can be astronomically high. If a fan from abroad does manage to scrimp the money to see one game, why spend it on a group match when there’s a chance they could save it for the knockout rounds?
Jacked up ticket prices have an impact that seeps beyond the stands. There should be a feel to tournament soccer. What happens on the pitch matters, but around that should be a carnival. Look to Germany this summer and you will have seen Dutch fans bouncing back and forth in the street. Or Albanian fans ribbing Italians over the sanctity of pasta. Those scenes are invisible in the US. Sure, we’ve seen Argentina fans taking over Times Square and Peru fans belting out their national anthem in Kansas City. Those have made for great scenes, but so far they’ve been the exception rather than the rule.
Then there have been decisions that are outright dangerous. Cross the entry and price thresholds and some fans have been greeted by scorching heat. Canada v Peru kicked off at 5pm in an open air stadium in Kansas City, where daytime temperatures regularly exceed 90F (32C) in June. Unsurprisingly, temperatures were in the 90s and the heat index edging above 100F (38C) when the game kicked off.
While the crowd, announced at 15,625, was able to move around the stadium to seek shade and water, the players didn’t have the same luxury – Canada keeper Maxime Crepeau told the Kansas City Star that players weren’t give a hydration break after the 30th minute as is usual in high temperatures. Guatemalan assistant referee Humberto Panjoj fell to the field just before half-time, requiring medical attention and leaving the field on a stretcher. He was treated for dehydration and released from a medical facility on Tuesday night. Still, it was a terrifying reminder of what poor organization can lead to.
“It can’t be a five o’clock kickoff,” Canada defender Alistair Johnston told the Star. “That’s the simplest one … It’s gotta be an eight or nine o’clock kickoff. Because honestly, it’s not even safe for the fans.”
Copa fans have also had less opportunity to prepare for the tournament than their European counterparts. While the Euro venues were announced in 2021, with the full schedule finalized in May 2022, Copa América venues weren’t publicized until December of last year. Similarly, the Euro 2028 stadiums already were announced in April 2023, while it’s still uncertain which country will even host the 2028 Copa América.
A lack of coordination and marketing greed has dragged down the spectacle. When the winner lifts the trophy at a sold-out Hard Rock Stadium on 14 July, organizers will no doubt trumpet the tournament as a success. After all, full stadiums have greeted Argentina and Messi everywhere they’ve gone. Mexico fans will always show up for El Tri in the US, and it increasingly looks as if the same can be said for Colombia.
But Conmebol has settled for good enough rather than great. Given the scale of stadiums and the juicy matchups to come in this tournament, there will be record attendance figures in the knockouts – at least the gross total. TV ratings will be solid. Dollars will be made. True success, though, would be a tournament organized such that the next time fans are told to “Look who’s here!” the answer will be: “Everyone”.
