The World Cup is (Probably) Going Private

Football needs its villains.

Mourinho, Suarez, Pepe, Terry. The beautiful game is made so, in part, by the dark arts that leave us seething at men hundreds of miles away who will never know our name. The blood boils, then cools. All part of the circus.

What's not so grand is when the object of fans' disdain is governing bodies. You'll struggle to find a football lover who accepts corruption as a necessary evil for fiery derby matches.

I am, of course, referring to Gianni Infantino, who, somehow, has made himself even more unpopular than his predecessor Sepp Blatter. The World Cup’s issues - hydration breaks, Trump-appeasing and ticket prices - ensured that Infantino remained public enemy number one.

This week, however, he's gone full supervillain with plans to sell off a minority stake of FIFA to private investors, led by Joshua Kushner, brother of Trump's son-in-law Jared. But what does this all mean? What are its implications and, importantly, how have we got here? Let's dive in.

FIFA's makeup

It may surprise you to know (especially given the modern commercialisation of the game) that FIFA is a not-for-profit, meaning, in theory, it exists solely to preserve football for everyone. Investors famously love profits and returns. So how can the two coexist?

FIFA would create a separate commercial entity called FFE (FIFA Forward Enterprise), which investors could buy shares in. Therefore, FIFA could technically retain its not-for-profit status while operating an arm of the organisation that is beholden to shareholders.

What would FFE be?

Unsurprisingly, when choosing which part of their governing body to lop off and sell to the highest bidder, FIFA included all the commercially viable arms of its business: broadcast rights, sponsorship, tickets, licensing and delivery of tournaments. FFE is valued at around $20bn, with 20% of the proposed entity up for grabs. FIFA would exist separately, supposedly insulating it from the sounds of rampant capitalism going on down the hall.

What will all this mean?

FIFA currently provides each of the 211 countries that comprise it with $8m every World Cup cycle, which is used for everything from building stadiums to paying federation staff.

Should the sell-off happen, that $8m rises to $20m for the next cycle, then $22m, then $24m, plus a one-off $20m injection on top. FIFA has sweetened the deal further still, with each federation also able to access a separate $20m "Fast Forward" pot for stadiums and training centres –  but only if they back the plan. It's not really an incentive at that point. More a bribe with a spreadsheet attached.

Given all that, the outcome feels close to a formality. FIFA runs on one country, one vote; San Marino carries the same weight as Brazil, and for the huge majority of small, cash-strapped federations, that money outweighs any spiritual battle for control of international football. Infantino has run this play before. The 48-team World Cup expansion was similarly sold as a gift to smaller nations for whom qualification was a distant dream. FIFA's coffers swelled, and, as with FFE now, plenty of federations were left grateful to Infantino for a tastier slice of the pie. Grateful federations vote for you when you run for re-election next year.

What has the reaction been?

UEFA is spitting mad and has even threatened a boycott, though how serious that is remains to be seen. Europe's top leagues issued a searing joint statement, saying the World Cup is "not the FIFA President's private equity asset."

Most tellingly, previously disgraced Sepp Blatter has thrown his hat in the ring, calling out Infantino's relationship with Donald Trump as deeply damaging for football. It's not the first time that relationship has raised eyebrows. Weeks earlier, Trump personally called Infantino to intervene on a World Cup red card. Folarin Balogun's ban, upheld by FIFA's own disciplinary committee, was mysteriously suspended in time for him to play the USA's next match. Independent match-fixing monitors later flagged unusual betting activity around the reversal. When Sepp Blatter is calling you out for corruption, you know you've gone too far.

Final thoughts

While many have painted the move as shocking, it shouldn't be. FIFA's slow march toward expanding the World Cup, both in format and commercial reach, has been plain for all to see. In many ways, the fandom must hold some responsibility. I include myself in that.

When decisions were made to hold competitions in Russia and Qatar despite grave human rights concerns, I watched on. When the format was ripped up, hydration breaks were introduced, and a sitting US president was granted enough sway to overturn a disciplinary ruling mid-tournament, I gleefully crammed into a pub to watch it unfold.

Infantino has probably realised that the spectacle of the World Cup is so total that almost nothing he does will be the final straw. Fans will curse his name, organisations will threaten boycotts, but he holds all the cards. Until people actually choose to turn their back on the greatest sporting glory we have, nothing will change. I'm not sure I will, either.