México 86, a fictional film directed by Gabriel Ripstein and starring Diego Luna, premiered on Netflix on June 5. The central premise is simple: to uncover the story of how Martín de la Torre (Diego Luna) orchestrated bringing the World Cup to Mexico in June of 1986. México 86 makes two things explicit: the corruption of the world’s leading countries and FIFA, and that when we talk about “the World Cup,” we are never really referring to the sport itself, but to the business generated around the spectacle. The story is told in the first person, which, at times, makes Luna’s characteristic and colloquial charm remind us of the “rudo” from Rudo y Cursi (2008).
As the Italian philosopher Umberto Eco pointed out in his 1978 essay “The World Cup and Its Pomps,” the World Cup is not simply about sport itself, but about the spectacle built around it. Eco distinguished between sport as a physical practice—an activity based on personal effort, discipline, and the body—and the massive football industry, where players become professional workers subjected to intense pressures and spectators become part of a collective ritual shaped by consumption, emotion, and spectacle.
México 86 makes two things explicit: the corruption of the world’s leading countries and FIFA, and that when we talk about ‘the World Cup,’ we are never really referring to the sport itself, but to the business generated around the spectacle
And it is precisely in this way that Martín de la Torre navigates the 95 minutes of the film. For the protagonist, it did not matter who the eleven players on the national team were, but rather how Mexico as the World Cup host would triple the profits of the television network that would broadcast it—Televisa—and, above all, how this World Cup negotiation would bring him closer to his dream of becoming FIFA president.
Although Martín de la Torre is a fictional character, his figure draws from the real-life power brokers who shaped Mexican football. Rafael del Castillo, Guillermo Cañedo de la Bárcena, and Emilio Azcárraga Milmo, to name a few. Men whose influence extended beyond the field and into the political and economic structures surrounding the sport. However, he could also be inspired by men from the football world in other countries and at other World Cups, because the desire for power extends to any subject at any historical moment. One of them would be Gianni Infantino, the current head of FIFA. If Gianni Infantino has one work philosophy, it is: “more”—something he shares with the protagonist of México 86.
According to journalist Sam Knight, under Infantino’s leadership, FIFA has evolved from an institution focused primarily on organizing the men’s World Cup and Olympic football tournament into a broader global organization. It has expanded into new competitions and areas, including youth tournaments, beach soccer, and even e-sports. According to Infantino, this growth is not only driven by commercial interests but also by a vision of football as a social force capable of creating happiness, inclusion, and opportunity. Knight highlights how FIFA’s president presents the ball as a universal symbol—an object with the power to transform people’s lives. Infantino has even connected the possibility of hosting more World Cups with addressing global issues such as migration, revealing how FIFA increasingly seeks to position itself beyond sport and as a political and social actor.
This vision, so empty of meaning and empathy, along with the desire to obtain greater economic profits and become “the man of the moment,” are things that Diego Luna’s character manages to portray accurately in Mexico 86.
The social media algorithms show us a new wave of offerings, ranging from hamburger and chicken wings promotions to a new Adidas and Nike collection or a new film titled México 86.
At the same time, the film highlights some of the geopolitical and social conflicts of the 1980s in Mexico and around the world, and although they are not fully developed in the script, as viewers we immediately recognize them: the Guatemalan civil war, the geopolitical strategies and foreign policy vision of Henry Kissinger, and the rise of Hosni Mubarak’s presidency in Egypt. And so, what happened during the negotiations for the 1986 World Cup is happening before our eyes in real time.
Mexico, the United States, and Canada—the hosts of the first World Cup to be held across three different countries—have already revealed numerous inconsistencies in the tournament’s organization. Logistical challenges have made it difficult for attendees to travel between countries, exorbitant ticket prices, and a sporting event overshadowed by tariff conflicts between the host countries, a migration crisis both within their and along their borders, and a “war on drugs.” Despite all of this, the social media algorithms show us a new wave of offerings, ranging from hamburger and chicken wings promotions to a new Adidas and Nike collection or a new film titled México 86.
But hopefully—for those people for whom the World Cup means sitting in front of the television with their father and grandmother, calling their friends and making plans to meet at a bar, watching it on their phones in the middle of a class or in a university hallway, stopping for a moment while walking down Madero Street or Fifth Avenue to watch it at a street vendor’s stand—this World Cup embraces them and finds them surrounded by the people who know how to shout their “goooool!” with them.
Katalyn Solís is a historian from the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). She was born in Actopan, Hidalgo, and lived for many years in Mexico City. She currently resides in Chicago, Illinois. She is currently in charge of digital content for Contratiempo magazine and works as Communications and Media Coordinator at an organization advocating for the labor rights of undocumented migrants.