Pelé, Maradona and the sombrero as a World Cup symbol: 'You give it to the king'

Pelé wore one in 1970. Diego Maradona in 1986. And at the kick-off of the 2026 World Cup, tens of thousands rained onto the pitch at the Estadio Azteca. Whenever Mexico is involved in a World Cup, the sombrero pops up everywhere — this tournament even more visible now that the world's biggest football celebration is back in the country after forty years.

Upon arrival for their training camp in Monterrey, the Japanese were presented with cream-colored sombreros from northern Mexico. South Korea landed in Guadalajara with a mariachi band in the background and also received the traditional wide-brimmed hats. Sweden celebrated in the dressing room with a sombrero after the 5-1 win over Tunisia in the first round. The most striking, however, was the opening between Mexico and South Africa: more than 80,000 spectators were handed out cardboard sombreros, many of whom were cheerfully thrown onto the field before kick-off.

“Iconic,” says Luisa Ferne, an artisan milliner from Monterrey. “I get goosebumps when I see that image again — everyone with their sombrero, a beer or tequila, cheering and singing.”

The moments with Pelé and Maradona are also etched in the collective memory. After winning his third world title in 1970, Pelé was honored in the Azteca, with a sombrero. Maradona was photographed with teammate Daniel Passarella and a sombrero at the start of the 1986 tournament — also in Mexico — before leading Argentina to the world title. The World Cup mascot figure at the time was 'Pique': a jalapeño with mariachi sombrero.

“Anyone can buy a sombrero de charro (the typical mariachi model),” explains Mexican football historian Carlos Calderón. "But for Mexicans, it's not like just anyone wears it. When a foreigner puts one on, it's usually donated — as a token of thanks or admiration. In Pelé's case, it was a tribute to the king of football. You don't give it to all Brazilians — you give it to the king."

There is not one type of sombrero, but a range of styles. The word comes from 'sombra' (shadow). The signature mariachi variation is the sombrero de charro, named after the traditional Mexican horsemen. They are made of straw or felt; in the north there are variants with a more 'cowboy' look — such as the hats that Ferne makes. She produced a unique copy for Shakira last year for her performance at the Estadio BBVA in Monterrey.

The exact origin is disputed, but it is often stated that the hat came from Spain during the conquest of the Aztec empire in the 16th century. The charro then adapted the hat for work in the sun — with a wider brim — after which mariachis and later fighters during the Mexican Revolution (1910–1920) adopted it. In the 1920s, the sombrero appeared in films and found its way into the stands.

“In the late 19th and much of the 20th century, you could go barefoot — but you had to have a sombrero,” says Calderón. Straw hats were widespread in the stands at the beginning of the last century, mainly as protection against the heat. Caps are more common in competition these days, but the World Cup is different — just ask superfans.

Héctor Chávez, better known as 'Caramelo', wears a huge mariachi sombrero at Mexico matches. His hat isstitched with badges from the eleven World Cups he has visited, including this tournament. According to him, the hat was made by the same craftsmen who made one for Pope John Paul II in 1999. “When people see a large sombrero de charro, they identify it with Mexico,” says the 63-year-old. "We proudly take Mexico around the world and wear our clothes as a symbol. I can't imagine myself without a sombrero. It has made us famous worldwide — just like tequila." His son, also Héctor and known as Caramelo Jr, follows suit with a hat of his own.

The headgear also works as a social key. During the 2018 World Cup, student José Ramón Díaz traveled to Russia without tickets, but with the striking hat. “Ladies love the sombrero,” he said at the time. “It is a key that opens many doors.” It is not always practical: “You take it with you on board, because things can go wrong in the suitcase,” says Jaime Díaz, a Mexican-American from Kansas City who took his red hat with him to the 2022 World Cup. “If necessary, you stuff it in the overhead bin if the steward(ess) allows it.” Fellow fan Xavi Ochoa, born in Los Angeles, sums up the feeling: “I'd rather lose my carry-on than my sombrero.”

For fans outside Mexico, the hat takes on extra significance as a symbol of national pride. According to Calderón, the sombrero continues to connect supporters, even though you still see the charro variant in everyday life, mainly during traditional celebrations. Ferne now supplies to riders and farmers, for whom the hat is still a practical working tool.

“It stands for mexicanidad and pride,” concludes Calderón. “If you are abroad and you see a sombrero de charro in the distance, you walk towards it: those are your people, your supporters - that is where you feel at home.” And so this World Cup, the sombrero is once again more than a playful attribute: it is a cultural icon that connects stands, teams and generations.