When the spectator became the product

The 2026 World Cup reveals that modern sport increasingly treats fans not as spectators but as commodities whose attention is constantly being sold, writes Jack Waters.
I was looking forward to this year’s world cup for months.
As a lifelong football fan, this has always been one of those rare events that allows me to completely disconnect from the world and tune in to the game I grew up on.
But this tournament was different. I wasn’t inspired or deeply fulfilled like I used to be.
I felt dirty.
In my opinion, this tournament was the culmination of the worst our world has gone to. It’s the constant artificial intelligence (AI) ads, fast food and gambling ads, and those awful “hydration breaks” that we’re already tired of hearing about (more on this soon).
This World Cup has really done a great job of reminding me of my place in the world; I am a consumer.
And throughout this tournament I felt like nothing more than a consumer.
Remember the people inside WALL-E? The ones wandering around in automated chairs, permanently glued to the screen, while ads flash in front of their faces? That’s exactly how I felt watching this World Cup.
Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “What do you mean? The World Cup and football in general have always been commercialised”.
And yes, you’re right.
But don’t you think it used to be a lot more subtle? Of course, there were commercials on the field, there was a halftime sponsor, maybe a few commercials during the broadcast. But this was on another level.
Every break in the game turned into another opportunity to sell me something.
How lucky were we to have two extra commercial breaks every game?
Oops, sorry, I meant “hydration breaks”. You know, the things we still need in air-conditioned stadiums and rain-affected matches?
It almost doesn’t matter whether that’s their primary purpose or not. What matters to me is how normal this is.
We are so used to every moment being interrupted that we don’t notice it anymore.
That’s why the World Cup bothered me so much, because it didn’t feel like an escape anymore. And honestly, it was pretty ridiculous to see how something I once saw as an escape from the world had become a perfect reflection of it.
Maybe it’s nostalgia, and maybe each generation believes that the things they love were better before they became commercialized.
But I don’t think that’s all, because the scale of the work seems different now.
If one of the biggest sporting events in the world finds a way to insert ads into every waking moment of the viewing experience, then why shouldn’t every sports program, streaming platform or concert promoter do the same?
That’s what worries me.
It’s not the World Cup, I’m over it now. But it literally set a precedent for everything else. Because if we continue to accept this, it will suddenly become the new normal.
Then the next event takes it a little further, and then the next, until we forget that every free second is not another opportunity to turn our attention to money.
I would be lying if I said I had an easy solution. I’m not suggesting we boycott football or claim that advertising can disappear. But I think we need to be careful about what we give away, and in almost every case it’s our attention.
The World Cup reminded me that it is becoming increasingly difficult to enjoy something for what it is.
I miss watching games without feeling like I’m the product.
I miss being a spectator.
And I’m not sure we’re encouraged to be one anymore.
Jack Waters is an Australian author and former journalist who writes about modern life, attention and our relationship with work and technology. There are many examples of his work www.byjackwaters.com.
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