Man Utd Go XXL: Will This Be the World’s Greatest Stadium?

Manchester United announce 100,000-seater stadium. Yes, you read that right. The club that once prided itself on the hallowed turf of Old Trafford, home to triumphs, tears, and more last-minute goals than a bargain-bin football video game, is about to go full colosseum. Forget Theatre of Dreams, we’re now talking Dreams on Steroids. Because apparently, the solution to a decade of mediocre football is to build something that can fit the entire population of Cambridge and then some. Twice. Possibly with enough space left over to host a Coldplay concert and a monster truck rally at the same time.

It’s not like Old Trafford was falling apart (okay, maybe the roof leaked and the wi-fi was tragic, and maybe some fans had to bring umbrellas inside), but United seem to have decided that size matters more than stability, or form, or coherent tactics. And when they say 100,000 seats, they don’t mean 100,000 reasonably priced seats with ample legroom and clean facilities. No, no. Expect something that looks like the lovechild of a Las Vegas casino and a spaceship—probably with a mega-museum, holographic statues of Sir Alex Ferguson and Eric Cantona in his kung-fu pose, and a ramen bar named after Roy Keane. One that only serves angry noodles.

This got us thinking—where does this future fortress rank among the world’s footballing monoliths? Let’s take a whistle-stop world tour of the biggest stadiums that have ever existed (some still standing, some clinging to relevance, others now glorified car parks or spiritual homes of pigeons).

Let’s begin with the obvious heavyweight: the Rungrado 1st of May Stadium in Pyongyang, North Korea. Allegedly (and that word is doing a lot of heavy lifting), it can host up to 114,000 people. Although who’s counting? Probably not the attendees. Built in 1989, this place is a mix of grandeur and mystery, a bit like a Bond villain’s birthday bash venue. It’s been used for everything from football to gymnastics to mass human propaganda art shows. You know, just normal stadium stuff. The sort of place where you’re more likely to see synchronised flower displays than a hat-trick.

Next up, India’s Narendra Modi Stadium. This one’s a cricket ground, yes, but size is size, and this bad boy clocks in at 132,000 seats. Yes, you heard me. One hundred and thirty-two thousand. It’s less a stadium and more a small town. And while cricket might involve less chest-thumping and more tea breaks, the sheer scale is something football can only envy from a polite distance. It’s also the only place where you can miss the entire third innings while walking back from the toilet.

Now, let’s saunter over to the United States where things are predictably extra. Michigan Stadium, affectionately called “The Big House,” hosts American football games and seats over 107,000 fans. College football fans, mind you. Not even the pros. There’s a level of commitment here that involves face paint, marching bands, and the sort of loyalty that Premier League clubs can only dream of, especially in the post-Super League era. Some of these fans will fight you if you suggest their university isn’t a real football dynasty, despite the players being 19-year-olds with essay deadlines.

Down in Texas, AT&T Stadium is technically not the largest in fixed seating (it sits around 80,000), but throw in standing room and a Dallas Cowboys playoff game and suddenly you’re rubbing shoulders with 105,000 screaming fans under the world’s largest HDTV. It’s the only place where you can have a nervous breakdown over your team’s fourth-quarter collapse while also watching a Beyoncé concert on a screen the size of Belgium. Honestly, the screen might be visible from space. NASA’s considering adding it to their satellite mapping.

And we can’t forget Camp Nou. Well, maybe we can now, since it’s undergoing renovation and for the first time in history, Barcelona fans are experiencing what it’s like to queue for the loo in a stadium with actual working plumbing. When complete, Camp Nou will seat around 105,000 fans. Before the hammer drills moved in, it was the largest stadium in Europe, and possibly the most atmospheric, if you ignore the tourists waving selfie sticks while shouting “Messi!” and asking where they can buy paella.

Speaking of atmospheres, Azteca Stadium in Mexico City deserves a mariachi serenade. With a capacity of 87,000+, it’s been the setting of two World Cup finals and Maradona’s Hand of God. It’s a cathedral of football. A place where history bleeds from the concrete, and altitude sickness is part of the matchday experience. Watching a match there is like doing cardio with 86,999 strangers. You don’t watch football—you survive it.

Then there’s the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. Used in the 1994 World Cup, this stadium is more accustomed to concerts and college bowl games now, but it once welcomed over 94,000 fans to witness Brazil lift the trophy while Romario danced his little socks off. These days, it’s all picnic blankets and nostalgia, but the ghosts of football glory still haunt the echoing corridors.

Wembley, you ask? Of course, Wembley. England’s national stadium, rebuilt with just enough arches to resemble a futurist toast rack, comes in at 90,000. It’s hosted Champions League finals, the Euros, Olympic showdowns, and that one time Adele broke every sound barrier. Modern, sleek, and ever-so-slightly corporate—but not bad for a country that used to insist football be watched while standing in the rain next to a bloke named Stan who smoked three cigars per half. And somehow, Stan always had a radio glued to his ear, even if there was a live match in front of him.

Back in South America, the Maracanã in Rio de Janeiro stands as a monument to the beautiful game. Once it crammed in over 200,000 fans—yes, two hundred thousand, which is basically all of Iceland—in 1950. These days, it’s a more manageable 78,000 thanks to safety regulations and the fact that people now enjoy sitting during matches instead of clambering over fences in a samba frenzy. But when it roars, it still roars. There’s enough energy to power a small town—or at least heat the team bus.

And then there’s Salt Lake Stadium in Kolkata, India. Capacity used to touch 120,000 before renovation, now trimmed to 85,000. Still massive. Still mental. It’s one of those places where you can feel football humming in the air, despite the fact that most of the world has no clue what East Bengal vs Mohun Bagan means. Spoiler: It means everything to about 84,999 people every time they play. The rivalry has the passion of El Clásico and the infrastructure of a student union gig night.

Now, with Manchester United’s new beast of a stadium, we’re entering a fresh era of football showbiz. Stadiums used to be places where blokes in scarves stood on crumbling terraces and shouted encouragement in a dialect not even Google Translate could parse. Now, they’re architectural flexes, tech utopias, and battlegrounds in the arms race of football branding. The pitch is sacred, but the lounges? They’re for influencers and Instagram reels.

What will this new mega-ground look like? Probably every seat will come with its own charging point, heated cushion, and augmented reality screen to show you what the players should have done in slow motion. There might be a luxury suite shaped like Wayne Rooney’s head. Maybe a drone-operated drinks delivery system, where your pint gets flown in like a seagull with a liquor licence. Or robotic stewards that politely scold you for not clapping enough during corner kicks.

Will it help United win more matches? Unlikely. You can’t build form with concrete. But it might sell more shirts in Jakarta, which is what really matters these days. Perhaps the stadium will include a section called the TikTok Stand, exclusively for people who watch the first ten minutes, post a dance routine, and leave before half-time. Or a statue of David Moyes outside, just to keep expectations grounded. There’s also probably a data analytics suite where you can see how many kilometres your left-back ran in the first half, just in case that helps you forget they forgot to mark anyone.

Somewhere, deep in football’s nostalgic soul, the ghosts of wooden terraces, rattles, Bovril, and obscenely muddy pitches are weeping into their flat caps. But maybe that’s just progress. Bigger, shinier, louder. All in the name of spectacle. We used to bring sandwiches to matches. Now we book chefs.

One thing’s for sure: if Manchester United announce 100,000-seater stadium plans and pull it off, they’ll have the world’s eyes—again—not for their trophy count, but for the sheer audacity of trying to reinvent football’s past glories with a car park the size of Lancashire. It won’t fix the midfield, but at least you’ll have three bars of signal while watching the chaos.

And who knows? Maybe the ghost of George Best will appear in one of the holograms, sipping champagne and muttering, “Not bad, lads. But I still played on a pitch made of broken dreams and cigarette ash.” Or maybe Eric Cantona will emerge live on stage to perform spoken word monologues about seagulls and sardines between halves.

So here we are. A future where stadiums are tech palaces, football is theatre, and loyalty is measured in data points. All we can do now is hope that somewhere among the corporate lounges and selfie walls, someone still remembers how to cross a ball. And that someone isn’t just a CGI rendering with perfect hair.

But sure, let’s build it. Let’s see if dreams really do scale up to 100,000 seats. Just remember to fix the wi-fi this time, lads. And maybe give us a team that knows how to defend corners while you’re at it.