The opening match of the 2026 FIFA World Cup had barely kicked off when police in Lima, Peru, executed one of the most surreal drug raids in recent memory. Officers from the Green Squadron, a unit known for inventive undercover work, slipped into life-sized costumes of the tournament’s official mascots — Clutch the bald eagle and Maple the moose — to approach a suspected dealer in the San Juan de Lurigancho district. The target, 48-year-old Carlos Cabrera, was a self-confessed “diehard football fan” whose neighbourhood wariness melted at the sight of two cheerful mascots. Once close enough, the costumed officers discarded their oversized heads and used a metal battering ram to breach his door, arresting him and seizing 2,524 packets of raw cocaine and a firearm. Police later said the operation, though comical in appearance, went exactly to plan.

Intelligence work had revealed Cabrera’s obsession with the World Cup, prompting the Escuadrón Verde to exploit the frenzy. This is not the first time Peruvian law enforcement has adopted theatrical disguises; the Green Squadron has previously deployed officers dressed as Santa Claus, giant ham sandwiches and even a coronavirus vaccination syringe to catch criminals. Viewed from London, such methods stir a mix of admiration and bemusement, but analysts in Lima stress they reflect a broader operational doctrine: blending into the cultural context to minimise alertness. “Thanks to intelligence work, we realised this person was caught up in World Cup fever,” said Colonel Carlos Alcántara, the unit’s commander, underlining how local knowledge directly shaped the sting.

Across the hemisphere, the tournament is generating its own peculiar policing moments. In Boston, a city hosting Scotland’s opening match against Haiti at Gillette Stadium, a local officer became an overnight sensation after a video showed him performing skilful keepy-uppies in front of kilt-wearing members of the Tartan Army. While far removed from the gravity of a drug raid, the scene — shared widely on social media — exemplifies how World Cup 2026 is fostering unexpected connections between law enforcement and visiting supporters. American officials have long prepared for security challenges, but such spontaneous exchanges are easing tensions and underscoring the tournament’s capacity to humanise authority figures.

As the World Cup unfolds across the United States, Canada and Mexico, the blend of high-risk police work and light-hearted fan interactions will likely define the tournament’s social footprint. Security forces from all three host nations are watching Peru’s playbook with interest, aware that creative infiltration could prove vital against criminal networks seeking to exploit the crowds. Yet for every carefully planned mascot raid, there is also a moment of pure, unscripted joy — a reminder that the world’s biggest sporting event can simultaneously provoke both the absurd and the uplifting.