Peace Sacrificed on FIFA's Altar

A glittering stage and endless accolades cannot change the facts: peace requires courage and compassion, yet Trump weaponizes human suffering for show and applause.

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“I proudly accept the inaugural Substack Leader of Peace Award, SLOP, from the global community of readers who recognize my tireless, unimpeachable pursuit of world peace. It stands among the greatest honors of my life; right alongside being chosen from the crowd by Hucko the Clown at Madison Square Garden to do the Macarena in the center ring.”

You’ll forgive me for taking a moment to revel in my own greatness; I mean, how often does a guy like me win the first-ever S.L.O.P. Award for promoting world peace? It’s historic. Groundbreaking. Practically biblical. And unlike some other newly created, highly suspicious awards handed out this week, mine didn’t require a tenor in a blue velvet tuxedo or a sports federation president willing to fawn over a grown man like he’s the Dalai Lama with better hair care.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit: I wasn’t a soccer kid growing up. I was a tennis player; an individual sport always appealed more to me. No shin guards, no teammates to blame, just you, a racket, and the consequences. So believe me when I tell you it wasn’t some lack of soccer appreciation that left me slack-jawed watching FIFA’s president, Gianni Infantino, bend the knee — literally bend the knee — to President Trump at the Kennedy Center, like he was knighting the Patron Saint of Peace, Patience, and Positive Global Outcomes.

Let’s rewind. Friday’s 2026 World Cup Draw in Washington was nominally designed to reveal the tournament matchups for the U.S., Mexico, and Canada. In reality, it was a carefully choreographed, high-budget Trump appreciation night; an infomercial disguised as international sport.

The evening kicked off with Andrea Bocelli, Trump’s favorite tenor, wearing a blue velvet tuxedo and aviator sunglasses, belting out “Nessun dorma” like he’d just been told world peace depended on it. Trump watched from an opera box freshly adorned with a presidential seal, soaking in every note like it was being sung directly to him. In fact, it actually was. The rest of us were just extras in the scene.

And then came the pièce de résistance: the revelation of the newly created, never-heard-of, clearly improvised, ridiculous FIFA Peace Prize. A glossy tribute video credited Trump with a highlight reel of global peacemaking — some real, most fictional, and at least one (Serbia and Kosovo) that exists only in the magical land of Trumplandia. The ceasefire between Israel and Hamas? Also still very much not a ceasefire. But when has factual consistency ever stopped him?

Infantino handed Trump a giant gold trophy, a printed certificate of authenticity to “prove” the award’s legitimacy, and a medal he encouraged Trump to “wear everywhere you go.” Naturally, Trump put it on immediately. The man truly loves hardware.

“This is one of the great honors of my life,” Trump declared. “We’ve saved millions and millions of lives.”

Sure. And I’m the Pope of Park Avenue.

Infantino’s courtship of Trump has reportedly become a running joke even within FIFA. According to Politico, he’s spent more face time with Trump this year than any world leader. Gavin Newsom’s press office mocked the award as a participation trophy. Other officials worried about a different problem: how do you host a global tournament under a president who treats foreign visitors like an invading force? Japan’s Football Federation openly expressed fears that their fans might get deported for blinking too loudly at customs. Two qualifying nations — Iran and Haiti — are on Trump’s travel ban list.

But hey… today is about the peace prize.

After Trump joined Carney and Sheinbaum onstage and rambled about ticket sales and the time he once watched Pelé, one of soccer’s greats, the press pool finally started heading back to the White House, only to be abruptly summoned back inside because Trump suddenly decided he wanted to stay and watch the rest of the show. Like a kid refusing to leave Chuck E. Cheese.

He returned to his seat next to Sheinbaum and enjoyed a performance by Lauryn Hill and a pre-recorded skit starring Rio Ferdinand, Matthew McConaughey, and Salma Hayek. Even as a tennis guy who barely knows a 4-4-2 from a 1099 form, I had to admit: it was an impressive halftime lineup.

But the night had already gone off the rails long before. Journalists endured a freezing, hours-long security line that one reporter called “the worst-run event I’ve ever covered.” Secret Service agents opened every laptop, pressed every button, apparently ensuring that no one had brought a weaponized spreadsheet, and confiscated water bottles for reasons known only to them.

Inside, thawing reporters circled food stations offering poutine for Canada, tacos for Mexico, and burgers for the United States. Because nothing unites civilizations like melted cheese curds, guacamole, and medium-rare diplomacy.

The finale was The Village People performing “YMCA,” though they somehow missed their own cue. Trump stood in his box performing his signature rigid-shouldered dance, while Carney, Sheinbaum, and Melania remained seated, doing everything short of hiding behind their programs to stifle laughter. Only Infantino stood, clapping like a drunk seal with the unrestrained enthusiasm of a man who had bet his entire reputation on this evening and desperately needed it to land.

If Donald Trump genuinely wants to be remembered as the “Peace President,” if he truly wants that Nobel Peace Prize he’s been chasing like it’s the last Diet Coke on Air Force One, then maybe he should start doing something that resembles peace. You don’t get to brand yourself as a global peacemaker while unleashing ICE raids to deport migrants from all over the world, enforcing a travel ban on 30 countries, and publicly denigrating entire communities, like calling Somalians “garbage” as if their lives are disposable. You don’t advance humanity by targeting fishermen in the Caribbean with lethal force based on a concocted story of fentanyl coming through Venezuela or Colombia. You certainly don’t serve the cause of world peace while inflicting fear, chaos, and death on innocent people, all in the name of some self-serving narrative of national security.

If Trump actually cared about humanity, about the world, about stability, about anything beyond applause and shiny trophies, he has the full presidential power to act on it right now. He can pursue real diplomacy. He can reduce suffering instead of manufacturing it. He can choose compassion over cruelty, stability over chaos, relief over punishment. The authority is there. The machinery is there. What’s missing — what’s always been missing — is the genuine desire to do good for anyone who can’t give him something in return.

And that’s what makes this entire Kennedy Center coronation so profoundly hollow. Because if Trump truly wanted peace, the world wouldn’t need a hastily invented FIFA prize or a propaganda montage to prove it; we would see it in his governance. If he really wants the Nobel, he can earn it.

But until he stops treating cruelty as policy, intimidation as leadership, and suffering as leverage, the only peace he delivers is the hollow echo of his own ego. He can wear medals, pose for cameras, and collect trophies all he wants, but as long as he continues weaponizing suffering, the only peace he knows — or the only peace he will ever know — is the one he imagines for himself.

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