Less than 60 days before the start of the World Cup, I am already panicking: All my attempts to get tickets to see Argentina and Lionel Messi at football’s greatest tournament have failed miserably.

I struck out in last year’s presale draw. I had no luck in February’s "random selection” window either. And when the last-minute sales phase opened earlier this month, I couldn’t even get into the ticket portal of the International Federation of Association Football (FIFA) despite logging in an hour early on three different devices (I blame its recurring tech disasters for that one).

Now I’m left with the consumer torture chamber known as the resale market: You don’t really know how prices are set or what exactly you’re paying for, but you’re guaranteed the pain of inflated fees. The cheapest ticket I found on FIFA’s official marketplace for one of Argentina’s three group-stage matches was about $2,200 — basically hospitality-level pricing. You can find cheaper options on third-party platforms like StubHub or Viagogo, but with the accompanying risk that the tickets never materialize.

This isn’t what I had in mind. In my naivete, the idea was for my wife and I to take our two kids on a World Cup road trip, following Argentina across the U.S., driving to intriguing places like Kansas City alongside thousands of flag-waving fans for whom football is more than a game. I don’t think Argentina will retain its title (my pick is Brazil, followed by France), but experiencing Messi’s last World Cup would be unforgettable for our two football-obsessed boys.

I now realize that plan was a chimera. The budget I had penciled in for a two-week journey would barely cover entry to a couple of matches. So, I’ve lowered my expectations to just a single game, with an express trip to Texas from Mexico City, where I am based. And yet even that is proving prohibitive.

This is, of course, the result of the tournament’s controversial dynamic pricing policy, which has turned the sale of over 6 million tickets into something resembling a massive online auction run by FIFA with total opacity. Inventory, access and information are all strategically rationed, distorting what should be a straightforward supply-and-demand process and pushing prices three or four times above face value. The Zurich-based governing body has built a remarkably sophisticated milking machine to suck every dollar from fans, with little concern for the supporters who give the tournament its unique aura, particularly those from South America and Europe, home to all World Cup winners.

But the price tag shock is also a stark reminder of the income disparities between U.S. consumers and Latin Americans. With an estimated 24 million American millionaires, it’s not hard to find enough people willing to drop a few thousand just to see what the fuss is about, pricing out everybody else. FIFA may be indecently greedy, yes, but it’s hardly the first promoter to squeeze the world’s most lucrative sports and entertainment market. The post-pandemic boom in live events and experiences has only accelerated that trend (does "preferred parking” in Coachella really cost $299?!).

Less talked about is the surge in airfares around match dates, which makes the whole experience even more punishing for anyone not based in one of the 16 host cities. Don’t be surprised if a two-hour Mexico City-Dallas round trip costs $1,000 or more on a World Cup weekend. I checked.

Despite all the trickery, I’m not ready to give up just yet. My WhatsApp is still buzzing with long-shot options: acquaintances who might cancel at the last minute, miraculous points-per-tickets corporate promotions or FIFA suddenly caving to fans’ pleas (yeah, right...). But I am starting to accept that perhaps this World Cup isn’t for me, at least not in the way I imagined it: a summer family affair, a memorable vacation trip built around football’s passion, drama and the quest to lift the most beautiful trophy in sports.

I know many others, especially families, feel the same way. What should be a popular celebration has turned into the Hermès of sporting events: so exclusive that even a partial-view remote seat feels like a luxury good (not to mention other turnoffs, from geopolitical tensions to ICE’s unwelcoming entry policies).

As I come to terms with that, I can at least share three lessons from this painful reckoning:

Tip No. 1: Exploit dynamic pricing to your advantage. As kickoff approaches, some matches will see prices collapse due to weaker demand and huge stadium capacity. FIFA saw this at last year’s Club World Cup, when semifinal tickets dropped to just $13. I doubt that will happen for teams like Mexico, Spain or England, where demand is overwhelming, but you might still catch something like Paraguay vs Australia in San Francisco or Sweden vs Tunisia in Monterrey and get a genuine World Cup experience.

Tip No. 2: Rethink your travel plan. If flying to a host city like Dallas costs a kidney, consider nearby alternatives like Austin. You’ll save big on flights, enough to offset the extra leg — and you get to explore an additional city.

Tip No. 3: You don’t need a ticket to feel the World Cup. Yes, the atmosphere at stadiums is unique but you can enjoy the tournament’s spirit in parties with friends and co-nationals. Hosts like Mexico City have organized multiple cultural events and you can watch the games on big screens with fans from around the world. My experience attending a dozen matches during the fantastic 2014 World Cup in Brazil, when tickets starting at $90 already felt pricey, was that most of the excitement happen in the streets. That’s something FIFA’s pricing machine can’t take away.

© The Japan Times