​Breaking a mirror. Walking under a ladder. Spilling salt. A black cat crossing one’s path. After this week’s events, it seems fitting to add one more item to the roster of things people claim bring bad luck: the support and involvement of Donald J. Trump. Over the weekend, the president stepped into the fortunes of the U.S. men’s soccer team, personally urging FIFA president Gianni Infantino to overturn a red card issued to the team’s star striker, Folarin Balogun. The plea worked. Balogun’s red card was overturned in a controversial decision, provoking uproar across the global football world, yet allowing him to take the field against Belgium on Monday. Before Trump’s intervention, the United States appeared to be enjoying arguably their best World Cup run in decades. Afterward, they unraveled, delivering a listless performance that ended in a 4-1 defeat and elimination from the tournament. It seemed the team had fallen under the curse of Donald Trump.
Yes, a growing body of evidence suggests that where the president goes, sporting doom follows. From the basketball court to the NASCAR track, from the golf links to NFL stadiums, Trump’s presence seems to presage defeat. The rumors heated up after Trump attended game three of the NBA finals in June. The Knicks had been cruising, riding a 13-game win streak, until, with Trump watching (and seemingly dozing off), they suffered a defeat that snapped their run. A pattern began to emerge. Last November, Trump became the first sitting U.S. president in almost half a century to attend a regular-season NFL game, traveling to the Washington Commanders’ stadium to watch them face the Detroit Lions, who handed them a 44-22 loss. Earlier that year, Trump had attended the Daytona 500, a race that had weather delays spanning three and a half hours. When Trump served as grand marshal for the event in 2020, the race had been postponed after just 20 laps due to rain, marking only the second time in history that a postponement occurred into the following day.
The list of incidents continues to grow. In September, the golf-enthusiast Trump was front and center at the Ryder Cup, as the U.S. faced Europe. Europe secured victory, its first on American soil in 13 years and only its fifth overall. In January, Trump traveled to Miami to watch the Miami Hurricanes take on the Indiana Hoosiers in the College Football Playoff National Championship, where Indiana triumphed. The supposed curse of Donald Trump is neither a recent invention nor merely a meme; it is part of a broader narrative about the way leadership and public spectacle appear to influence the atmosphere around sporting events.
The idea that Trump’s presence alone can herald misfortune for teams is a provocative one, but it is worth noting that the real consequences of his policies extend far beyond the scoreboard. The sports world’s fascination with a figure who commands attention and controversy underscores a larger truth: the impact of leadership, politics, and public attention on national pride and collective morale is profound, even when it plays out in the realm of games and scores. The argument, at heart, is not simply that a rally or a televised appearance tilts outcomes on the field, but that the symbolism surrounding a famous figure—whether it’s a president, a celebrity, or a political moment—can color how people perceive performance, resilience, and national identity.
In the end, the “curse” argument sits alongside a deeper critique: the real damage lies not in a magic spell attached to a single individual, but in how a political climate—especially one marked by polarization and controversy—affects athletes, fans, and the broader social fabric. When leadership becomes a fixture in conversations about success and failure, the consequences are felt far beyond the final whistle, the last putt, or the closing bell. The broader takeaway is clear: the stories we tell about luck and doom often reveal more about our collective anxieties and priorities than about any literal force acting on the playing field. The debate continues, but the underlying tension remains: how much does politics influence performance, and at what point do we separate the game from the theater that surrounds it?