MLS Bets Big on Post-World Cup Hype—But Can a Billboard Blitz Fix a Broken Product?

It’s mid-July, the city’s melting, and if you’ve walked past a bus stop this week without seeing an MLS logo, congratulations—you live under a rock. The league’s CMO, Radhika Duggal, is chest-thumping about the “largest coordinated marketing campaign” MLS has ever tried. Translation: they’ve finally decided to spend real money pretending soccer is America’s next big thing—again.

Let’s cut through the PR fog. Every four years, MLS rides the World Cup coattails, acting like a few weeks of global fever will finally tip the balance: this time Americans will care about domestic soccer. Here’s the uncomfortable truth—no amount of Times Square billboards or TikTok collabs with C-list influencers will fix a league that still treats “entertainment value” like a dirty word. The real problem isn’t awareness, it’s that the product is still soft—low-scoring games, plastic stadium atmospheres, and a talent gap that yawns wider than this summer’s heatwaves.

If you want receipts, look at last Saturday night: a half-empty Red Bull Arena, tickets on resale for less than a slice at Joe’s, and a crowd more interested in Messi’s Instagram than any MLS highlight. This isn’t a marketing issue—it’s a supply problem. You can’t rebrand mediocrity into must-see TV, no matter how many times you run that World Cup highlight reel.

The league’s campaign talks a big game about “connection with new fans” and “building the sport’s future.” You know what actually builds a future? Spending on world-class players, letting supporters run the stands like it’s the Bundesliga, and not letting every team’s kit look like it was spat out by a template generator in a Delaware strip mall. MLS spent the last decade chasing suburban families and TV deals. Now, with the World Cup afterglow, they’re doubling down on the same safe playbook that already flopped.

Here’s my uncomfortable recommendation: stop spending eight figures on ad agencies and start spending on players, supporters, and matchday chaos. Give us real rivalries, real risk, and a league that feels like it matters in July—without the crutch of a global tournament. Otherwise, by Labor Day, all the billboards in Manhattan won’t matter any more than last year’s Super Bowl hashtags.