For years, Donald Trump treated the World Cup as though it had been built for him personally - a vast sporting monument to his chaotic second term, staged in his own backyard and watched by billions.But come Sunday's final, the tournament threatens to end with an image he would surely hate most. Spain will meet Argentina at New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium, hoping to crush Lionel Messi’s international swansong. But more so if La Roja win, Trump will have to stand in front of hundreds of millions of viewers and humiliatingly hand the World Cup trophy to the one country he has attacked more viciously than any other European ally.Only last week, while at the NATO summit, he declared: “I don’t want anything to do with Spain”, adding, “They’re hopeless, bad people.” He then demanded that all trade between Washington and Madrid be cut off. But a victory for Luis de la Fuente Castillo’s team will force Trump to smile, clap and congratulate its captain as the greatest prize in football is lifted in front of his makeup-tinted face.‌For Spain, it would be the sweetest possible revenge. For Trump, it would be a punishment perfectly designed by the football gods. This was supposed to be his tournament. Instead, it exposed his fragility.Dignitaries from across the world have flown in to watch their countries play. Kings, queens, presidents and ministers have taken their seats, worn the colours, felt the nerves and shared the occasion with their people. Trump never once watched the United States. Not once.For a man who never misses a chance to wrap himself in the flag, that absence says plenty.The host nation’s President stayed away from his own team throughout the tournament, then made sure he turned up only when there was a trophy, a stage and a global television audience. So much for all that chest-thumping patriotism. The United States played on home soil. The crowds were there. The cameras were there. His country was there. Trump was nowhere to be seen.‌It is hard to think of a clearer measure of what he really values. The team could manage without him. The trophy presentation apparently could not. And behind that vanishing act lies another embarrassment. Trump and his aides have been rattled by the fear of stadium chants about him and his pal Jeffrey Epstein, the late paedophile whose shadow keeps returning no matter how hard the president tries to give it the red card.Reports during the tournament made clear that White House officials were anxious about him attending fixtures involving English-speaking nations, where supporters had taken up chants over his close friendship to Epstein.The fear was brutally simple: put Trump in a packed football stadium, point the cameras at him, and the crowd might humiliate him live on air. That is an extraordinary position for any president, never mind one who sells himself as a fearless strongman. The commander-in-chief of the host nation was apparently wary of sitting among the people at the very tournament he wanted to own.Inside the White House, Trump is surrounded by loyalists. Inside a football ground, there is no press secretary to drown out the noise. So he stayed away despite boasting before the tournament that he would grace several games. His only appearance at a match will now be the final, when he presents the trophy alongside FIFA boss Gianni Infantino, whose closeness to Trump has long since crossed from diplomacy into fanboy embarrassment.‌It could hardly be more revealing. Trump ducked the tournament when the United States were playing. He ducked the risk of Epstein chants. He ducked the kind of crowd he cannot control. But he has found time for the closing shot. The problem is that Spain may be waiting for him.Trump’s hostility towards Madrid has been one of the most needless diplomatic rows of his chaotic leadership. At this month’s NATO summit in Ankara, he tore into Spain for refusing to sign up to the alliance’s new defence spending target. Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez tried to cool the row, insisting relations remained friendly. Few in the country seemed convinced, and why would they be? Trump had not simply disagreed with Madrid. He had insulted the country and its people.The feud is not based on its defence spending. Spain had already angered the president by making clear it would not allow the United States to use its southern military bases for strikes on Iran that fell outside United Nations authority. Madrid would not let itself become a launchpad for Trump’s Middle East war plans on his terms. That refusal stung him badly.‌Washington jointly operates key naval and air facilities in southern Spain, and Trump plainly expected compliance. When he did not get it, the insults followed. The “wasted cause” line, the trade threat, the attack on the country itself - it's like a tantrum from a man denied what he thought he was owed.Now Spain’s footballers may get the last word in the most public way imaginable. They will hardly need much reminding of the backdrop. Dressing rooms notice these things. Players notice when a President uses their country as a punching bag. Supporters notice too.This tournament has already shown how quickly football can turn Trump’s meddling into motivation. When Belgium knocked the United States out in the last 16, after the row over Folarin Balogun’s rescinded red card and Trump’s admission that he had personally asked Infantino to look at the card, the Belgians could not resist mocking him.Their players broke into an impression of his trademark dance as they celebrated, while the team’s official account joined in with a pointed dig. The message was clear enough. The rest of the world has seen Trump trying to muscle his way into the tournament. They have seen the vanity, the interference, the desperate need to be part of the story.‌Spain will have seen it too. And unlike Trump, they have turned up every time. That is what makes Sunday so dangerous for him. The final is no longer just a football match. It could become a very public reckoning between the President who insults allies and the country that refused to bend.Trump’s affection for foreign leaders has always depended on whether they flatter him. Argentina’s Javier Milei has enjoyed the warm treatment because he has made no secret of his sycophancy for Trump. The President once told a rally that Milei was “a big Trump guy” who “loves Trump”, before making clear that anyone who loves him gets loved back.That is his worldview in its purest form. Praise him, and he purrs. Defy him, and he lashes out. Spain defied him. It refused to fall in behind his defence demands. It refused to surrender its bases for strikes on Iran. It refused to behave like a junior partner waiting for orders from Washington.‌For that, it was insulted.On Sunday, Trump may have to stand there and applaud them. Even his previous football appearances offer little comfort. At last year’s Club World Cup final, also at MetLife Stadium, Trump was booed when the jumbotron caught him during the national anthem. More jeers followed when he walked onto the pitch for the trophy presentation, with stadium music turned up to cover the reaction.Then he lingered awkwardly among the Chelsea players as they lifted the trophy, planting himself in a moment that belonged to the team. That is always the danger with Trump. Invite him to present the prize, and he behaves as though he has somehow won it.‌Many fans fear the same could happen again. FIFA has already made sure he will be central to the closing image, with Infantino confirming they will present the trophy together rather than leaving football’s greatest moment to speak for itself. The World Cup final should belong to the players who have earned it, the supporters who have lived every kick and the winning captain who has carried his team through a month of pressure.Instead, Trump will be there, drawn to the trophy after avoiding the tournament, the United States team, and the crowds he feared might mock him.If Spain wins, the image will be brutal.