FIFA World Cup 2022 A major plan of material expenditure is Qatar-wide

FIFA World Cup "Qatar", in other words, has been as good as its word: It promised it would put on a show, and it has delivered. No expense has been spared. No stone has been left unturned. Its plans for what might be termed the tournament experience are grand, ambitious, and spectacular. It is just a shame that they are not, in any way, reflective of what fans want or need, and that they so betray such a fundamental misunderstanding - on the part of both the local organizers and, more damningly, FIFA itself ..

https://www.highrevenuegate.com/qz47xif6sd?key=a11db6eca1db90bc1639c8ad1adf72a0 The good news is that it's a yes from the gigantic, fire-breathing spider. It is hard, after all, to imagine a World Cup without its finest tradition: 50 tons of decommissioned crane arranged into the shape of a monstrous arachnid, pumped full of highly flammable fuel and then stocked with hopefully less flammable DJs. The spider will form the centerpiece of one of the cultural highlights of this winter's World Cup in Qatar: a monthlong electronic music festival called the Arcadia Spectacular, staged just south of Doha and boasting what the promotional material calls an "electrifying atmosphere, extraordinary sculpted stages and the most immersive shows on earth." The spider, though, will not be alone, which presumably can be a problem when you are a nightmarish metallic behemoth. The Arcadia Spectacular is not the only music festival to be tacked on to Qatar 2022. There will be another at Al Wakrah, hosted by a company called MDLBEAST: You can tell it will be cutting-edge, because it's in block capital letters and also has done away with some of its vowels, the most old-fashioned type of letter. The idea has been modeled, fairly transparently, on England's Festival - the spider itself has been a regular feature there for a decade - and, although it was only announced at a relatively late stage in preparations for the World Cup, organizers expect it to draw about 200,000 fans. Each and every one of them should be warned: They will, it turns out, be "mesmerized late into the night." The spider, though, will not be alone, which presumably can be a problem when you are a nightmarish metallic behemoth. The Arcadia Spectacular is not the only music festival to be tacked on to Qatar 2022. There will be another at Al Wakrah, hosted by a company called MDLBEAST: You can tell it will be cutting-edge, because it's in block capital letters and also has done away with some of its vowels, the most old-fashioned type of letter. Qatar, in other words, has been as good as its word: It promised it would put on a show, and it has delivered. No expense has been spared. No stone has been left unturned. Its plans for what might be termed the tournament experience are grand, ambitious, and spectacular. It is just a shame that they are not, in any way, reflective of what fans want or need, and that they so betray such a fundamental misunderstanding - on the part of both the local organizers and, more damningly, FIFA itself - of what it is that makes a World Cup special. It is not soccer that makes the World Cup, not really. There are times that the games are breathtaking and nail-biting and heartbreaking, of course, when what happens on the field is etched on to the collective memory like a bright, lasting tattoo or an aching scar. But more often, it is something more ethereal. The World Cup, at heart, is a feeling. The most memorable thing about Russia, four years ago, for example, was not the French team that emerged victorious. It was not the Croatia side that carried a nation of 5 million to the cusp of ultimate glory. It was not even the sight of Germany, the reigning champion, crashing out in the group stage, or the baffling self-immolation of Spain. No, what made Russia 2018 - particularly now, given all that has happened, given how unreal that month in the sun now feels - was Nikolskaya, the street in central Moscow that became a hub for fans from all over the world, full of flags and bunting and song. It was the sight of thousands upon thousands of Peruvians on the streets of Saransk, a red sash across their hearts. It was the sense that, even in a vast land of steppe and mountain and forest, you were never more than 6 feet from a Colombian .. Nowhere is that clearer than in the accommodations that are supposed to house the million or so fans expected to attend in November and December. Even now, less than two months out, not all of the lodging being prepared for the tournament is available to book, for the very good reason that not all of it is ready. That joy, that sense of togetherness, does not just touch those in attendance. It spreads like a smile to the many, many more watching at home. It provides not only the soundtrack to the games but the backdrop, too. It turns stadiums from sterile bowls into something filled with life. It takes a mere soccer tournament and turns it into an event. It cannot be forced. It cannot be commanded into existence. It has to gestate, develop, ferment. There are many reasons to criticize the idea of a World Cup in Qatar. First and foremost, there are the ongoing concerns about human rights, the queasy amorality of a tournament built by and on indentured labor. There is the troubling uncertainty, too, over quite how welcome gay fans might be, over whether this truly will be a tournament for everyone. But although it pales in significance to those issues, it is worth pausing to consider what sort of World Cup this might be, too, because it is there that it is possible to glimpse most clearly not only whom Qatar - and particularly FIFA - thinks the world's biggest sporting event is for, but what it is. It was in August, three months before the tournament was scheduled to start, that Qatar announced the Arcadia Spectacular, complete with its horrifying steel tarantula. It seemed odd to unveil such a major addition to the slate at such short notice, but there has been a distinctly last-minute air to much of the World Cup. It is as if all of the effort, all of the energy, was poured into securing the tournament and building the stadiums, so that only at the last moment did anyone wonder about all the people who might turn up to watch. And there is the cost. The tournament's organizers insist that Qatar has a "comfortable inventory for fans": There will, they say, be "up to" 130,000 rooms to house fans every night of the tournament. There is "something to suit everyone," too, with options ranging from hotels to villas and apartments and on to cruise ships, luxury tents, simple cabins and even camper vans. The cheapest option is "as low as $80 per room per night," a spokesperson for the Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy Said Although that is true, it is not quite clear what that $80 buy you. Several organizations representing fan interests harbor significant doubts about what sort of facilities will be on offer in the cabin parks. It is not yet clear, one representative said, if those staying in the parks will be able to watch games on television, or quite how they would access food and water. (The Supreme Committee insists that there will be food trucks at each of the sites.) Nor is it entirely obvious quite what proportion of the available accommodation could be counted as "suitable for the budget-conscious traveler," as the website of the Qatar Accommodation Agency, the central portal for booking rooms in Qatar during the tournament, puts it. (The Supreme Committee did not disclose, when asked, what percentage of the available rooms in Qatar for the tournament might be considered relatively low-cost.) It is not unusual, of course, for prices to soar during a major event. Just as they might at the Champions League final, say, or at the Super Bowl, fans expect to be gouged to some extent when they choose - and it is important to remember that it is a choice - to attend. The price of flights goes up almost instantaneously. A premium is added to hotel rooms. Private renters spot an opportunity. There is nothing quite like sports for a grand celebration of capitalism at its most rapacious. But although that problem is certainly not unique to Qatar, it is inarguably more pronounced. South Africa and Brazil and Russia could draw on an existing network of cheap hostels and midrange hotels, as well as private homes available on Airbnb. There are, currently, apartments available for $102 per person, per night, for certain dates, although they come with a warning that availability is running low. Miss out on them and the price creeps up quickly. Other options start at $300 a night. A luxury tent goes for more than $400. A berth on a cruise ship starts at about $500. Hotels can stretch into the thousands of dollars for a single night. Their prices spiked, too, of course, and the photos - from bitter personal experience - did not always tally with reality, but it was possible to attend all of those tournaments on a relative budget. The more adventurous could hire a van, or pitch a tent, or squeeze into a hotel room with far more friends than is advisable. None of those options are available in Qatar. The existing hotel infrastructure is almost exclusively luxury. Many of the hotels that have been built for the tournament, bafflingly, are the same. The few hostels seem to be booked up. Belatedly, authorities have permitted Qatari residents to rent out their homes privately, but doing so at the last minute does not exactly scream "low cost." This is the World Cup as Qatar envisages it, and seemingly as FIFA does, too: a premium product, a lifestyle experience that can be acquired at a certain price point, a playground for the corporate class, the itinerant rich, the luxury traveler. It is an event designed by consultants, for consultants, the sort of place in which a gigantic, fire-breathing spider is hired to disguise in spectacle the absence of sensation. And this World Cup will, sadly, be poorer for it. A carnival atmosphere is not something that can be commanded into existence. It is not possible to take all of the stages and sets and logistics of Glastonbury and simply re-create them somewhere else, just as it is not possible to take the organic, authentic melting of thousands of fans from around the world and replace it with a series of "cultural events" and "sponsor activations." What makes the World Cup, what always makes the World Cup, are the people. Not the ones on the field, not even the ones in the stands, but the ones who come just to be there, just to sample it, to add color and sound and joy. It is hard not to worry that many of those fans will have been priced out of Qatar, or excluded by virtue of not being allowed into the country without a ticket for a game, and that with them the feeling will change, turning the tournament into an ersatz version of itself, a tribute to all the things money can buy - including a flame-throwing spider - and all of the things that it cannot.