World Cup violence in Bangladesh: Football fever turns deadly as 12+ die

Football’s capacity to unite can be matched only by its power to divide. In Bangladesh, that duality has turned lethal. At least 12 people have died in World Cup-related violence since the tournament began, their deaths exposing how political and social fractures in the country have been inflamed by a competition watched by millions. The deaths span fatal assaults, alleged stabbings, electrocutions, and road crashes, each incident a stark reminder that the World Cup’s collateral damage extends far beyond the pitch.

From tea-stall arguments to fatal blows

The spark was a penalty missed by Lionel Messi. In Cumilla, Md Shariful Islam, a 38-year-old rickshaw driver and sole breadwinner, was watching Argentina play Egypt when he mocked the missed spot-kick. What followed was swift and brutal. “Argentina supporters” assaulted him, according to local reports, leaving him dead at the scene. His wife, Beauty Begum, now cares for their two daughters alone. “How can people kill someone over a football match?” she asked. “I want the harshest punishment for those who killed my husband.”

Islam’s killing was not an isolated incident. In Narail, Mostafa Kazi was hacked to death during a dispute over a local match. In Chattogram, Mahidul Islam died when a goalpost collapsed during post-match celebrations. Fayaz Tajrian perished in a motorcycle crash en route to watch Argentina-Egypt. Khokon Karmakar collapsed and died before a supporter-organised friendly in Barguna. These are not football tragedies; they are human ones, each a life erased by a game’s unchecked passions.

Campus battles and crumbling order

The World Cup’s shadow has stretched into Bangladesh’s universities. At Maulana Bhasani Science and Technology University in Tangail, clashes between rival student groups left at least 10 injured, including an assistant proctor, and saw academic buildings vandalised. The violence followed a pattern seen earlier in June, when dozens were injured in Habiganj after a local match pitted Brazil and Argentina supporters against each other. Football’s tribalism has infected even the corridors of learning, turning campuses into battlegrounds.

These incidents are not anomalies. They are symptoms of a deeper unease, where football fandom has become a proxy for long-simmering tensions. FIFA and Argentina’s players acknowledged Bangladesh’s passion in 2022, but the current toll suggests that admiration has curdled into something far darker. The country’s love for the game has been weaponised, and the cost is counted in lives.

Yamal’s moment overshadowed by off-field threats

While Bangladesh burns, Spain’s Lamine Yamal has been targeted in a different kind of violence. Hours after Spain defeated France 2-0 in the World Cup semi-finals, two hooded individuals attempted to break into Yamal’s Barcelona home. His security team intervened, spotting the intruders on a wall and raising the alarm. The attempt was foiled, but the episode underscores how football’s highs are mirrored by off-field risks for its stars. Yamal, now 19, played the entire match as Spain marched toward a final against England or Argentina. Yet his focus on the pitch contrasts sharply with the threats outside it.

Robberies targeting footballers’ homes are not new, but Yamal’s case arrives at a moment when his profile has never been higher. His entire match against France—a 2-0 victory built on goals from Mikel Oyarzabal and Pedro Porro—has cemented his status as La Roja’s next global icon. But as Spain chase a first World Cup since 1986, Yamal’s future is now a dual concern: his fitness for 2026 and the safety of his family in Barcelona. Injury risks for teenage forwards are well-documented, yet the reality of off-field violence adds another layer of precarity to his rise.

Football’s contradictions are laid bare. In Bangladesh, the game’s joy has curdled into bloodshed. In Barcelona, its promise is shadowed by theft and fear. The World Cup’s legacy will be measured not just in trophies, but in the lives it has upended—and the futures it has imperilled. The question is whether the sport’s governing bodies will treat these crises as exceptions or as warnings.