The most significant development in the world of football sticker collecting is not happening now, but seven years from now. FIFA has decided to end its long-standing partnership with Panini after the 2030 World Cup, awarding the licence for the 2034 tournament to an American company. Viewed from Zurich, the move is a calculated bet on the commercial dynamism of the North American market, where the 2026 World Cup will be co-hosted. The decision marks the end of an era: Panini’s glossy stickers have been a pop-cultural fixture since the 1970s, turning schoolyards into trading floors and embedding themselves in the ritual of every World Cup cycle.

For now, however, the frenzy surrounding the 2026 album is as intense as ever. In Colombia, collectors speak of a scarcity reminiscent of the legendary Jet chocolate campaigns, with the Luis Díaz sticker already attaining near-mythical status. The album’s expansion to 48 teams has dramatically increased the number of stickers required, driving up both the cost and the desperation to find the rarest faces. In Mexico City, the Centro Comercial Manacar has responded by hosting free exchange events, where fans gather with stacks of duplicates, negotiating trades in a scene that echoes the open-air market culture of the city. The gathering is less about commerce than about community — a shared pursuit of completion that transcends the digital age.

Yet the digital age is very much part of the story. Panini, FIFA, and Coca-Cola have launched a virtual version of the album, available free on smartphones and computers, with daily free packs. The exchange system has been streamlined to allow seamless swaps online, but the problem of duplicates persists even in the cloud. Analysts in London note that the shift to digital collecting is both a response to younger consumers and a data-gathering exercise: every click reveals preferences, habits, and spending thresholds. The physical album, meanwhile, remains the anchor of the craze, with blister packs and ecoblister boxes selling rapidly across Latin America as fans seek the most efficient path to completion.

From a broader perspective, the parallel universes of physical and digital collecting reveal a deeper tension within football fandom. The tactile pleasure of peeling a sticker and pressing it into an album is being challenged by the convenience — and ephemerality — of a screen. As the 2034 contract moves to an American firm, the industry is likely to shift further toward gamification and microtransactions, learning from the monetisation models of US sports. For now, though, the 2026 album is a last hurrah for the Italian tradition, a global phenomenon that unites Bogotá, Mexico City, and Buenos Aires in a shared, slightly obsessive pursuit of completeness. The next World Cup may look very different in the palm of your hand.