For
years,
cities
around
the
world
have
competed
aggressively
for
the
right
to
host
major
sporting
events
based
on
a
familiar
promise:
economic
transformation.
The
logic
sounds
straightforward.
Bring
in
a
global
event,
attract
millions
of
visitors,
fill
hotels
and
restaurants,
generate
tax
revenue,
and
showcase
the
region
to
the
world.
Politicians
celebrate
the
projected
impact
long
before
the
first
ticket
is
scanned.
That
is
certainly
part
of
the
narrative
surrounding
the
2026
FIFA
World
Cup,
which
will
bring
matches
to
the
New
York
metropolitan
area
next
month,
including
the
tournament
final
at
MetLife
Stadium
in
New
Jersey.
But
an
interesting
wrinkle
has
started
to
emerge.
Some
early
hospitality
indicators
in
New
York
City
appear
softer
than
many
expected.
That
does
not
mean
the
World
Cup
will
fail
economically.
It
will
still
attract
enormous
crowds,
global
attention,
and
significant
spending.
But
it
does
raise
a
larger
and
increasingly
important
question:
Do
mega-events
consistently
deliver
the
economic
windfalls
the
public
is
promised?
Or
do
projections
often
outrun
reality?
Those
questions
matter
because
public
agencies
and
taxpayers
frequently
absorb
enormous
logistical
and
financial
responsibilities
connected
to
these
events.
Transportation
systems
are
expanded.
Security
operations
intensify.
Police,
sanitation,
emergency
management,
and
infrastructure
costs
rise
dramatically.
Public
officials
justify
much
of
that
spending
by
pointing
to
expected
tourism
surges
and
long-term
economic
benefits.
But
the
economics
of
modern
mega-events
are
often
more
complicated
than
the
headlines
suggest.
One
possible
explanation
for
softer
hotel
expectations
is
pricing
itself.
Traveling
to
the
World
Cup
is
becoming
extraordinarily
expensive.
Between
airfare,
event
tickets,
restaurant
costs,
transportation,
and
lodging,
many
fans
are
already
confronting
eye-popping
totals
before
they
even
arrive.
Some
may
choose
shorter
stays.
Others
may
attend
only
a
single
match
rather
than
building
an
extended
vacation
around
the
tournament.
And
some
may
simply
decide
not
to
come
at
all.
There
is
also
the
issue
of
geographic
dispersion.
This
is
not
a
traditional
single-country
World
Cup
concentrated
in
a
handful
of
closely
connected
cities.
The
2026
tournament
will
span
the
United
States,
Canada,
and
Mexico
across
104
matches.
Fans
may
move
frequently
between
regions
rather
than
staying
in
one
place
for
extended
periods.
Others
attending
matches
at
MetLife
Stadium
may
stay
outside
Manhattan
entirely,
including
in
New
Jersey
or
outer
suburban
markets
where
hotel
prices
are
lower.
Alternative
lodging
platforms
may
also
reshape
traditional
hotel
demand.
Large
sporting
events
increasingly
drive
travelers
toward
short-term
rentals,
group
accommodations,
and
other
nontraditional
options
that
reduce
pressure
on
conventional
hotel
inventory.
There
is
another
factor
that
cities
rarely
like
discussing
publicly:
displacement.
Major
events
do
not
simply
attract
tourists.
They
can
also
discourage
regular
visitors.
Some
business
travelers
postpone
trips
to
avoid
crowds
and
inflated
prices.
Some
families
delay
vacations
because
hotel
rates
surge
during
large
events.
Local
residents
sometimes
avoid
entertainment
districts
entirely
during
major
tournaments
because
transportation
and
traffic
become
difficult.
In
other
words,
the
World
Cup
may
create
new
tourism
while
simultaneously
pushing
some
existing
tourism
away.
That
dynamic
is
rarely
reflected
clearly
in
early
economic
projections.
History
offers
plenty
of
cautionary
examples.
Olympic
Games,
Super
Bowls,
and
other
international
sporting
events
have
often
produced
headlines
predicting
transformational
economic
benefits
that
later
proved
overstated
or
unevenly
distributed.
Certain
industries
and
neighborhoods
may
benefit
substantially
while
others
experience
little
meaningful
impact
at
all.
That
does
not
mean
hosting
major
events
lacks
value.
There
is
real
prestige
attached
to
being
at
the
center
of
a
global
cultural
moment.
International
visibility
matters.
Businesses
in
hospitality,
entertainment,
and
transportation
may
see
meaningful
gains.
Some
infrastructure
improvements
can
create
lasting
public
benefits.
But
prestige
and
economic
reality
are
not
always
identical.
That
distinction
becomes
especially
important
when
governments
and
public
agencies
commit
substantial
resources
based
on
assumptions
of
overwhelming
financial
upside.
The
public
deserves
honest
conversations
about
both
the
opportunities
and
the
limitations
attached
to
events
of
this
scale.
Will
restaurants
and
hotels
benefit?
Certainly
many
will.
Will
the
region
receive
extraordinary
international
exposure?
Absolutely.
Will
every
economic
projection
fully
materialize
exactly
as
promised?
History
suggests
caution.
The
problem
is
not
enthusiasm
for
the
World
Cup
itself.
Soccer
remains
one
of
the
few
truly
global
shared
experiences
capable
of
bringing
together
people
across
countries,
languages,
and
cultures.
Next
summer
will
create
memorable
moments
for
millions
of
fans.
But
large
sporting
events
increasingly
exist
at
the
intersection
of
sports,
politics,
commerce,
real
estate,
tourism,
and
public
finance.
That
means
cities
should
evaluate
them
with
clear
eyes
rather
than
pure
optimism.
If
hotel
numbers
in
New
York
are
softer
than
anticipated
this
far
out,
that
does
not
necessarily
signal
failure.
It
may
simply
reflect
a
more
complicated
economic
reality
than
the
public
is
often
sold
when
these
tournaments
are
announced.
And
perhaps
that
is
the
real
lesson.
Mega-events
are
rarely
as
economically
simple
as
the
promotional
brochures
make
them
appear.
Michael
J.
Epstein,
a
Harvard
Law
School
graduate,
is
a
trial
lawyer
and
managing
partner
of The
Epstein
Law
Firm,
P.A., a
law
firm
based
in
New
Jersey.