Yesterday when the Jacksonville Jaguars and the Washington Commanders were announced to play in London in 2026, I did not feel a rush of excitement. I was not disappointed either. The truth is that my London game days are mostly behind me now.
And yet, when I sat with it for a moment, I realised I missed parts of it more than I expected. I miss seeing familiar faces. I miss fan bases mixing in ways you do not really get anywhere else. I miss the quiet joy of catching up with writer friends in stadium concourses and nearby pubs, all of us there for the same reason, even if we support different teams.
But those feelings only make sense in context. When the NFL first brought regular season games to London in 2007, there was excitement, but there was also uncertainty. I was not watching yet. I did not fall into this sport until 2012, and my first live game came in 2014.
By then, London was no longer brand new, but it still felt like something finding its footing. Watching it over the years, that footing gradually became more secure. The London games have matured. That does not mean the magic has faded. It means the relationship has changed and deepened with it.
Wembley carried the early years. It felt huge and slightly chaotic, like something important was happening but still finding its rhythm. When Tottenham Hotspur Stadium entered the picture, the experience shifted again. It was purpose built with the NFL in mind, right down to the retractable pitch and the way the stadium infrastructure supports the sport. It did not feel borrowed. It felt intentional.
Over time, London stopped feeling like a one-off. It became part of the calendar, something fans planned around rather than waited to see announced. And yet, 2026 brings an interesting moment of reflection. Not about the football itself, but about what being a fan in London now asks of you.
This is the first year without London season tickets. For years, the season ticket model created security for both the league and fans. It guaranteed attendance and rewarded commitment. Removing that structure introduces uncertainty. It asks fans to choose each game individually rather than defaulting to habit.
The early London games were relatively accessible. When the first regular season game went on sale in 2007, tickets were reported in bands starting at £35, with tiers rising through the £40s and £50s and topping out at £65 and above.
As the London games became established, the price structure shifted with them. By 2021, when the NFL began playing regularly at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, the league’s published price plan showed Category 7 adult tickets starting at £60, with multiple tiers running up to £169 for a single game, and child pricing available in some sections from £30.
In the years since, that same entry point has moved again. For recent London games, the lowest general admission tickets have typically started closer to £90 to £100, with official pricing for 2025 widely listed in categories ranging from £72 up to £230, depending on where you sit. And once you step into hospitality, the numbers shift even further, with Wembley packages listed from £369 per person and reaching £999 per person at the top end.
None of this is shocking. Demand has grown, the events have become more polished, and London has become a fixed part of the league’s international plan. But it does change the feel of it. It changes who can say yes without thinking, and who has to pause and weigh it up.
If 2026 is a test, it is not just about loyalty. It is about value. And that question sits within a much bigger shift happening around London. At the same time, London is no longer the sole international focus. The 2026 international schedule includes games in Madrid, Mexico City, Munich, Paris, Melbourne, and Rio de Janeiro. Some of those cities will host their first ever regular season games. That expansion makes something clear: London is not being replaced, but it is no longer alone.
The league is building a global pattern. London is part of it, not the entire story. That context matters when looking at the two teams coming here next year. But before you even get to the teams, there is something else that shapes these games.
One of the things that has always set London games apart is the crowd. You see jerseys from every team. You hear accents from across the UK and beyond. Some fans understand every coverage adjustment. Others are attending their first live game. That mixture creates a shared space that feels neither fully home nor fully away for anyone.
The questions now are more nuanced than they were in 2007. They centre on price, access, expansion, loyalty, and expectation, and on how London fits into a wider global strategy while still retaining its own character.
For those of us who have watched this evolve year by year, that complexity feels appropriate. London is not a test market anymore. It is part of who we are as fans.