Los Angeles just finished the biggest accessibility test it will get before the 2028 Olympic and Paralympic Games: eight World Cup matches at SoFi Stadium between June 12 and July 10. The stadium mostly passed. The systems around it did not.
Consider one Los Angeles fan who attended two matches with their husband, who has a mobility disability. They paid for parking, then paid someone to drop them closer to the stadium, because the walk from the ADA lot to the security entrance was longer than he could manage. Weeks later they learned there had been a free ADA shuttle the whole time. “This could have saved us money,” they wrote. Nobody had told them it existed.
The same pattern runs through account after account from this summer: not a stadium that lacked accommodations, but a system where finding them required luck, phone calls, and strangers on the internet. Before the largest gathering of disabled athletes and spectators in the world arrives in 2028, LA needs to close this gap.
What Worked
Credit first, because it is real: SoFi’s physical infrastructure held up. Fans reported working elevators to every level, wheelchair escorts from the gates, mobility device storage, and accessible seating with clear sightlines on every level. One attendee whose wife was recovering from knee surgery described ADA shuttles from the Metro drop-off, wheelchair teams outside and inside the gates, and a text line for end-of-game pickup: “She only had to walk for about 5 minutes the entire experience.”
Construction was never the problem. What follows is.
The Information Gap
Neither FIFA nor the venue proactively published the access information fans actually needed. FIFA’s own FAQ on stadium support for accessibility ticket holders was a case study in the gap: it promised “extra support available for accessibility needs” and directed fans to a contact form, without naming what that support was or confirming it would be at every venue. Getting a straight answer meant calling repeatedly, and even then the answers were often provisional, or fans had to find it themselves, secondhand, from other attendees online.
A different Los Angeles fan, planning to attend with their husband, called SoFi directly in June with basic access questions, and got a picture of a system still being assembled in real time. FIFA and the City of Inglewood were putting a security perimeter around the stadium, meaning no one would be able to be dropped off at the venue; the walk from the perimeter to the entrance was “fairly long.” A phone line existed for a “mobility ambassador,” but mid-tournament, with matches already being played, staff told the fan directly that the program itself was still being built: “they are still working out some of the logistics.”
The gap followed the fan into the stadium. ADA parking sat a long walk from the security entrance; they watched people struggle and one person fall; a staff line-bypass allowed at one game was refused at the next. Their verdict: “For a billion dollar stadium, I can’t help but think it could have been better designed.” The same gap showed up months earlier, too: a wheelchair user planning around the December ticket lottery couldn’t find out from FIFA whether they could request a wheelchair space instead of a standard seat. A stranger on Reddit answered before FIFA did.
Being Disabled Cost Extra
Access at SoFi’s World Cup had a price list. Official parking, run through FIFA’s partner JustPark, was $250 for group-stage matches and $300 for the quarterfinal. ADA parking, per what the stadium told a caller directly, was $250, the same rate as general parking for those matches. And FIFA’s own ticketing rules state plainly that “accessibility tickets and companion tickets are not complimentary and must be purchased,” a shift that effectively doubles the cost for any disabled fan who needs someone with them. This is a change from FIFA’s own recent practice: at the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, FIFA’s accessibility ticketing offered a complimentary companion ticket in nearly every category, and the Sport & Rights Alliance calculated that disabled fans face costs up to 38 times higher in 2026 than in 2022.
The standard advice for avoiding those prices was to park far away and walk, or take Metro to a shuttle stop and walk from there. Metro’s own World Cup page listed bus drop-offs five to twelve minutes’ walk from the stadium perimeter, before security, before the walk across the campus. Every cheap workaround assumed a body that could cover the distance. Attending the same match could cost more if you were disabled: the same $250 parking as everyone else, plus a second drop-off fee if you never learned the free shuttle existed, plus the companion seat that used to come free. The disability tax, collected at the stadium gate. That is what has to change before 2028.
The Honor System
Accessible seating at U.S. World Cup venues ran on an honor system. That is partly by design and partly by law: under the ADA, venues cannot demand proof of disability, a protection that exists because many qualifying conditions are not visible. FIFA’s U.S. eligibility rules reflect this, covering wheelchair and mobility-scooter users, people using walkers, canes, or crutches, and a narrow set of non-visible conditions like heart and lung disease. Nobody should be scanning an accessible row and deciding who “looks” disabled; that judgment is exactly what the rules protect people from.
The people squeezed by this system are on the record. One wheelchair user described trying and failing to buy accessible tickets at all: “i tried to buy tickets and couldnt find any and i’m in a wheelchair.” Another, responding to a fan who’d bought accessible seats by accident and asked what to do, put the stakes plainly: “As a wheelchair user, I don’t have much choice of where to sit so it’s very annoying when people who can sit elsewhere choose to take those seats as it leaves people like me with fewer options from an already very limited selection.”
The rest of the public record shows, without anyone guessing at strangers’ bodies, why that selection was so limited: intent. Reddit threads from this summer include fans openly asking what happens if they buy wheelchair tickets they do not need (“Do they just shame you?”), fans strategizing to position themselves behind the wheelchair row for an unobstructed view, and an active resale listing offering two semifinal wheelchair spaces to whoever would buy them. This was not a fringe worry: disability advocates warned that accessible tickets, sold without proof of eligibility and resold on FIFA’s platform with no price cap, were “already appearing on resale for several times their face value”. FIFA’s own rules reserve the right to cancel or reassign any ticket holder it “determines… is not eligible,” but enforcing it would mean challenging fans over disabilities it is legally barred from asking them to prove. The rule exists on paper; the incentive to act on it does not.
The system also failed people trying to do the right thing. Multiple fans who bought accessible seats for a companion whose circumstances later changed tried to release them back and hit the same wall: the venue said only FIFA handles tickets, FIFA said seats cannot be changed. A system that makes misuse effortless and returning a seat impossible has its incentives backwards.
What the Data Already Showed
None of this should have been a surprise. Months before the first match, Only Everywhere audited the published accessibility information of 400 California attractions, museums, parks, theaters, and stadiums, SoFi among them, and found the same information gap already sitting in plain sight. More than half of the venues, 51%, had no dedicated accessibility page at all: nowhere to tell a visitor where the accessible parking is, how the drop-off works, or how to arrange assistance before they arrive. The strongest predictor of whether a venue told visitors anything useful was simply whether it had bothered to build such a page. The World Cup did not create SoFi’s information gap. It ran a stadium’s worth of people through it at once. (The audit also found the gap widens for anyone who is not a wheelchair user: 86% of venues documented some mobility accommodation, but only 27% published anything for deaf visitors and 20% for blind visitors, the needs this summer’s fan accounts barely reached.)
Two Years, Many Venues
Here is the uncomfortable part: SoFi is close to the best case. It is one of the newest major venues in the region, designed under modern accessibility codes, and the information systems around it still failed the way this record describes. The 2028 Olympic and Paralympic Games will not run through one new stadium. They will run through dozens of venues across the region, many of them decades old: the Coliseum, the Rose Bowl, arenas, aquatic centers, temporary sites. If the newest building in Los Angeles could not get the publishing part right, the older ones need to start now.
The fixes the World Cup record points to are not construction projects. In rough order of cost:
Publish the access plan early, where people will find it. The single most repeated failure was discoverability. Shuttle routes, drop-off points, mobility assistance, ADA parking, seating exchange procedures, published in one place, before tickets go on sale, at the same URL fans are already checking. If a fan’s best source of access information is a Reddit thread, the venue has failed at a publishing task, not an infrastructure task.
Price access like access, not like inventory. Accessible parking priced at $250-300 and paid companion seats turn disability into a surcharge. LA 2028 controls its own ticketing policies. It can commit now to free companion tickets and discounted accessible parking, and say so publicly.
Design the seating system for demand. Keep self-attestation, it protects people with non-visible disabilities, but add what venues already know how to do: hold-backs released day-of through guest services, a working exchange path for changed circumstances, and resale rules that keep accessible inventory visible to the people who need it instead of buried in a seat map.
Fix the release valve. When someone no longer needs accessible seats, one email should solve it. Concert venues do this routinely. A tournament that cannot match that has chosen not to.
The World Cup was the test run. The results are public, written by the fans who lived them. LA has two years and a complete answer key.
A Note on Sources
This piece draws on disabled fans’ own accounts posted publicly during the tournament, FIFA’s published ticketing rules and accessibility FAQ, Metro and stadium information, contemporaneous news coverage, and Only Everywhere’s July 2026 audit of 400 California venues. Fan quotes are reproduced as written. Individuals are named only where they agreed to be, and otherwise kept anonymous.









































