Empty seats have dominated the conversation at the ongoing Club World Cup, prompting a wave of online mockery, critical headlines, and skeptical commentary. Images of half-empty stadiums have been shared widely, often with dramatic captions that highlight how little time remained before kickoff. To many, the visual of vast rows of unoccupied seats serves as a symbol of everything that’s wrong with the tournament inflated promises, misguided planning, and an overestimation of interest.
But perhaps the outrage is overblown. When viewed with a wider lens, these attendance figures aren’t as damning as they appear. Most stadiums used are massive NFL-style venues, and filling such places is a tall order even for beloved domestic events, let alone a new-format tournament still finding its identity. On average, Club World Cup venues have been about 52% full, with a median of 43% capacity. These are underwhelming numbers, yes, but context matters.
For one, factors like high ticket prices, complex visa processes, weekday matches, and fears of immigration enforcement have all contributed to low turnout. The games have also featured clubs from distant countries with small U.S. followings, further limiting local appeal. Yet despite these hurdles, tens of thousands still turned up 22,000 in Atlanta for Chelsea vs. LAFC, 35,000 in Philadelphia for Flamengo vs. Esperance de Tunis, and over 40,000 in Pasadena for Monterrey vs. Inter. Given the circumstances, those numbers are far from failures they’re modest successes.
This disconnect stems in part from FIFA’s grandiose framing of the tournament. The Club World Cup was marketed as the greatest spectacle in club football, packed with elite teams and destined for sellout crowds. These lofty promises set expectations the event was never realistically going to meet. In contrast, club football culture is inherently more personal and localized. It thrives on community and routine not bloated extravagance.
The reaction to the empty seats reveals more about our expectations than the event itself. There’s a perception that empty seats mean failure. But fans were present. They sang, cheered, and created moments of passion even if they were surrounded by emptiness. Maybe what the tournament really exposes is not a lack of interest, but the limits of spectacle. Football thrives not on flash and scale, but on connection. This may not be what FIFA imagined, but that doesn’t make it meaningless.
In the end, perhaps the real issue isn’t the empty seats. It’s the oversized stadiums, the overconfident marketing, and the misplaced assumptions about what makes club football special.
