Why Not Being There Might Be the Right Place to Be
There was a version of this year where I would have been preparing my gear for the FIFA World Cup 2026. Accreditations, logistics, deadlines. The usual controlled chaos that defines large-scale sports coverage.
From my coverage made in Guadalajara
Well, that version didn’t happen.
Not because of a lack of experience, nor because of unfamiliarity with high-pressure environments. In the past, I’ve worked with one of the most respected sports editorial institutions in Europe, contributing within a system that demands speed, precision, and the ability to see before others even realize something is happening.
But the way assignments are distributed today often follows logics that are less visible from the outside. National priorities. Internal structures. Editorial strategies that rarely leave space for those operating independently, even when they already speak the language of the field.
And that’s fine.
Because distance, sometimes, is not a limitation. It’s a position.
The upcoming World Cup will unfold across Mexico, United States, and Canada.
A massive, complex, multi-layered event. Not just a celebration of football, but a global spectacle taking place in a world that feels increasingly unstable.
Major events have always existed in parallel with reality. But lately, that parallel feels thinner. More fragile. As if the distance between what we celebrate and what we ignore is shrinking.
From the outside, you start noticing things differently.
You are no longer chasing access.
You are observing context.
There is a kind of freedom in not being embedded within the official narrative.
No fixed angles.
No predefined storylines.
No obligation to deliver what is expected.
Only the responsibility to look, and to interpret.
For years, I’ve been working in the streets, building a personal visual language rooted in unpredictability, human presence, and the tension between subject and environment. A way of seeing that doesn’t depend on credentials, but on awareness.
And maybe that’s exactly where the real work begins.
Because while the world will be watching the matches, there will be another layer unfolding simultaneously. The peripheral stories. The unnoticed gestures. The silent interactions that exist just outside the frame of global attention.
That’s where I am.
Not being there, in the traditional sense, doesn’t mean being absent.
It means approaching the same moment from a different angle. One that is less about access, and more about interpretation. Less about proximity to the event, and more about proximity to reality.
And in a time where everything is already documented, transmitted, and consumed in real time, perhaps what matters is not adding more images, but creating images that mean something.
The World Cup will come.
The crowds will gather.
The stories will be told.
Some from inside the system.
Others from its edges.
I know where I stand.
Further Reading
For those interested in a broader look at my approach to football beyond the stadium, I’ve previously worked on a series of visual stories focused on the relationship between the game and everyday life.
From Football de Barrio to Football Passion, these projects explore how football exists far from the spotlight, in the streets, within communities, and through the gestures of those who live it without an audience.
A selection of this work has also been featured in editorial publications, including collaborations with one of Europe’s leading sports media institutions and appearances in France Football.
These are not stories about the game as spectacle, but about football as a human condition.
