"What FIFA wants cannot be bought": the black bill for the 2030 World Cup puts Morocco before the impossible

Spain initially proposed eleven stadiums, while Morocco works on preparing its own facilities as part of the joint bid. Reality quickly imposed itself. On the Spanish side, La Coruña and Málaga have already withdrawn, and some warn this won't be the last withdrawal.

The Spanish federation believes FIFA will cut the number of stadiums in both Spain and Morocco. Of the nine that remain on the Spanish side, at least two or three are expected to fall away. The same logic applies to Morocco, where the list of proposed facilities may be reviewed against identical criteria.

Relatively confirmed among the Spanish grounds are the Santiago Bernabéu, Camp Nou, Metropolitano and San Mamés. In Morocco, the host cities face similar challenges over capacity, technical standards and surrounding infrastructure.

Take Spain's Anoeta stadium. Its capacity sits right at the maximum threshold FIFA require, a situation that may well repeat itself in some Moroccan grounds that need substantial upgrades.

Antón Meana, a journalist at Spain's "Cadena SER" radio, reckons Vigo's chances don't look strong, while Valencia enjoy better prospects. Reaching eight stadiums in total, he adds, would count as an achievement.

That anticipated reduction means Moroccan cities may also lose opportunities they had been banking on, especially those that invested in initial planning without final guarantees.

Both countries share the challenge. FIFA demand strict standards covering transport, hotels and security zones, so cities that can't meet them quickly, whether in Spain or Morocco, face the choice of withdrawal or the risk of exclusion.

All of which leaves the two nations needing precise coordination to present a balanced bid, one that preserves the spirit of joint hosting without loading either party with unjustified burdens.

Gijón became the first Spanish city to pull out early. Its mayor, Carmen Moriyón, made her position clear: not everything FIFA wants can be bought, and signing the contract would mortgage the city for almost a lifetime.

Those words carry growing weight, and other cities questioning the value of hosting have begun to echo them. The joint bid imposes the same conditions on every host city, which leaves the Moroccan cities facing the same equation: "long-term commitments that may exceed their financial and organisational capacities".

Emotion played no part in the withdrawal. It came down to cold calculation. Cities are discovering that the commitments stretch well beyond upgrading a stadium to take in financial guarantees, legal amendments and a willingness to meet FIFA's demands over several years.

Both sides feel the same hesitation. Valencia looks well placed in Spain, while some Moroccan cities may run into difficulties much like those confronting Vigo.

One thing stands out. The cities, Spanish or Moroccan, are not rejecting the event itself. They are rejecting conditions that leave them mortgaged for long periods without a clear, guaranteed return.

Potential withdrawals like these raise bigger questions about the joint hosting model. Some see the World Cup as a chance to promote tourism and boost the economy in both countries. Others view it as a heavy burden demanding sacrifices that may never be recouped.

As a key partner, Morocco has a direct stake in these calculations. Any reduction in the number of stadiums or any further withdrawal would reshape the distribution of matches and the economic opportunities that come with them.

Among the most contentious points are the obligations imposed on the host cities. Several of them put the figure at around 50 million euros. The exact number remains uncertain, but the cities consulted repeatedly point to something in this region.

Since the conditions are uniform, Moroccan cities face the same prospect. These obligations cover hosting rights and the services tied to the event, and they land as a significant financial burden, especially on municipalities working with limited budgets across the three countries.

The financial obligations are not merely a number. They form part of a wider system of hidden costs. Alongside the basic amount come expenses for infrastructure, security, transport and local marketing.

Cities that have withdrawn, or are weighing up withdrawal, measure these costs against the expected return from tourism. In many cases the sums simply don't add up, with the return failing to cover the other obligations. The same logic applies to the Moroccan cities, which have begun to reconsider the feasibility of taking part in light of the very figures that worried their Spanish counterparts.

Such amounts make hosting far less attractive than it appears on the surface. The global event brings the spotlight. It also imposes financial obligations that may mortgage a city's budget for years, whether in Spain or Morocco.

This shared reality between Spain, Morocco and Portugal is pushing officials in all three countries to rethink the balance between sporting ambition and economic capacity.

Tax exemptions sit at the heart of the dispute. FIFA secure a full tax exemption in every host city of the 2030 World Cup, and this ranks among the biggest sources of frustration.

Host cities and municipalities are deeply worried. When they crunch the numbers, they find hosting the World Cup simply does not add up, and because the exemption applies to every host city in the joint bid, the Moroccan cities feel the same frustration.

Under this exemption, FIFA will pay no tax on their revenues from ticketing, sponsorship and broadcasting within these cities. The cities, in return, foot the bill for the public services tied to the event without pocketing any direct tax share.

Municipal calculations have exposed a potential gap between costs and returns, which makes hosting economically unviable in some cases. The frustration deepens when the cities compare this situation to previous editions, where taxes and local returns were up for negotiation.

This time, the full exemption looks like a non-negotiable condition. That has prompted officials in both Spain and Morocco to question whether the profits are being shared fairly.

FIFA's post-tournament reports confirm the World Cup turns a profit overall. But the television networks bank bigger returns than the host nations, and that gap explains why several cities are weighing up whether to press on or pull out before FIFA signs off the final list of stadiums.

The real money sits in broadcasting rights and global sponsorship. Host cities in Spain, Morocco and Portugal, meanwhile, shoulder the logistical and tax costs.

A complex, shared picture emerges from the 2030 edition. The cities want to stage a show worthy of the occasion. Set against that are the financial sums that leave some of them hesitating.

Fewer stadiums, early withdrawals, sky-high fees, tax exemptions: every one of these is pushing both sides towards a rethink on feasibility. Retaining enough stadiums across the joint hosting would count as an achievement. If the withdrawals or reductions keep coming, though, the shape of the event could change dramatically, denting the ambitions of Morocco and Spain alike.

For Moroccans, the 2030 World Cup remains a historic opportunity. Yet it also lays bare the tension between sporting ambition and economic reality. Host cities in Spain, Morocco and Portugal no longer swallow the conditions without doing the maths first. That is what makes the hidden cost the central talking point in the weeks ahead, proof that what holds for one side holds for the other.