Mexico v. England, Mexico City.

Yet one of my most instructive experiences in Mexico City occurred far from the stadium. While visiting the Bosque de Chapultepec, I spoke with Mexico City government employees distributing World Cup-branded pamphlets titled What to Do in the Event of Violence Against Women? In addition to displaying the logos of the Mexico City government and its “La Pelota Vuelve a Casa” World Cup initiative, the pamphlet defines sexual, physical, psychological, symbolic, and gender-based violence and directs women to emergency and psychological services. It also provides information about post-exposure prophylaxis following sexual assault and lists public hospitals where services can be obtained free of charge. Most strikingly, the pamphlet explicitly connects the intervention to the mega-sporting event: “Enjoying the biggest event of the year without fear is our right.”

World Cup gender-violence pamphlet obtained in Bosque de Chapultepec, Mexico City.

This small encounter offers an important example of what an inclusive sporting legacy can mean. Rather than defining World Cup preparation exclusively as stadium renovation or visitor accommodation, Mexico City used the enormous public attention generated by the World Cup to disseminate information about gender violence and connect residents and visitors with public services. That approach was part of a broader effort: Mexico’s Secretaría de las Mujeres described initiatives connected to fútbol as opportunities to combat gender stereotypes, promote women’s leadership, and encourage women’s use of public space.[7] More than 40,000 Mexico City public employees ultimately participated in World Cup operations involving mobility, security, logistics, and sanitation.[8]

Yet Mexico’s experience also exposes the mega-sporting event opportunity-cost question. Residents and merchants from communities surrounding Estadio Azteca protested that World Cup preparations were contributing to displacement, loss of livelihoods, housing pressures, water shortages, privatization, and gentrification.[9] In effect, a government can distribute violence-prevention materials in the Bosque de Chapultepec while residents elsewhere in the same city reasonably ask whether the tournament has made their neighborhoods more expensive or less secure. In Mexico City, I saw both realities coexist.

From Economic Impact to Shared Prosperity

The comparison therefore suggests that the wrong question is simply whether mega-sporting events “benefit” host countries. They almost certainly produce some benefits. The more important question, and the one most closely aligned with the Milken Family Foundation and Milken Institute’s emphasis on shared prosperity, is who captures those benefits, who bears the costs, and whether public investments retain value once the event ends.

Morocco shows the extraordinary infrastructure-building capacity that a global sporting deadline can unlock, but also the political danger of world-class facilities existing alongside inadequate basic services. Mexico shows how a sporting event can become a vehicle for less visible forms of social investment, including public safety and gender-violence prevention, while simultaneously demonstrating how tourism and redevelopment can impose concentrated costs on already vulnerable communities.

My experiences at both tournaments reinforced this tension. The crowds in Rabat and Mexico City demonstrated something economic-impact studies struggle to quantify: sporting events can generate genuine pride, collective experience, and cultural exchange. My experiences outside the stadiums, from Casablanca’s Hassan II Mosque to an unexpected conversation with public workers in Chapultepec, also showed how far a tournament’s effects extend beyond the field.

That suggests a more demanding definition of “legacy.” Success should not be measured primarily by attendance, increased tourism, television audiences, or whether stadium construction was completed on time. Host governments should establish measurable commitments before bidding: permanent transportation improvements, local hiring and procurement targets, affordable-housing protections, safeguards against displacement, public-health investments, and mechanisms ensuring that new infrastructure remains accessible to residents. The pamphlet I received in the Bosque de Chapultepec provides a modest but instructive example. Its value was not that it made the World Cup more impressive. Its potential value was that it used the World Cup to connect people to resources that matter—whether or not a match is being played.

The experiences of Morocco and Mexico demonstrate that mega-sporting events do not inherently produce shared prosperity. Rather, they create a rare opportunity to mobilize substantial capital, political attention, and institutional capacity. Whether that investment produces an inclusive and lasting legacy ultimately depends on how governments deploy those resources and whose needs they prioritize.