There was a time when the FIFA World Cup belonged to football.
It generated enormous revenues, but those revenues were a consequence of staging the world’s greatest sporting event rather than the purpose of it. Under Gianni Infantino, however, that relationship has steadily been reversed.
Reports that FIFA is considering selling a stake in the commercial rights of the World Cup represent the logical conclusion of a presidency that has relentlessly pursued one objective above all others: extracting ever more money from football.
If the deal goes ahead, it will cross a line that should never be crossed.
There is nothing wrong with FIFA selling sponsorships, television rights or hospitality packages. That has always been part of the business of staging the World Cup. Selling a stake in the tournament itself is something entirely different. It transforms football’s greatest competition into a financial asset whose success will increasingly be judged by the returns it delivers to investors.
Once outside shareholders are involved, the pressure becomes obvious. More matches. More advertising. More hospitality. More premium ticketing. More commercial opportunities. Every decision becomes driven by growth rather than by what is best for the game.
For anyone who has followed Infantino’s presidency, none of this should come as a surprise.
The World Cup has already expanded from 32 to 48 teams, despite concerns that the quality of the competition would suffer. Even before that format has established itself, FIFA has entertained the idea of increasing the tournament to 64 teams for the centenary edition in 2030.
The Club World Cup has undergone an even more dramatic expansion. Once a relatively modest tournament, it has been transformed into a month-long global spectacle occupying valuable space in an already overcrowded calendar. Players and managers have repeatedly warned about fatigue, but commercial opportunity has consistently trumped sporting concerns.
Even football itself has increasingly become secondary to the show. Infantino has embraced the idea of a Super Bowl-style half-time show at the World Cup final, while hydration breaks, introduced for perfectly legitimate medical reasons, have become predictable commercial windows for broadcasters and sponsors.
Viewed individually, each decision can be defended. But in the round, they they reveal a governing philosophy in which every challenge has the same solution: make it bigger, make it longer and make it more profitable.
That philosophy extends beyond the pitch.
The awarding of the 2034 World Cup to Saudi Arabia resembled less a competitive bidding process than a coronation. With rival bids effectively eliminated, FIFA delivered one of the most controversial hosting decisions in its history while brushing aside widespread criticism over human rights.
Then came the creation of the FIFA Peace Prize, awarded to Donald Trump. Whatever one’s political views, many questioned why football’s governing body had ventured so far beyond its remit. It was another example of an organisation seemingly more interested in cultivating political influence and global headlines than governing the game.
The fact that Trump, without appearing to joke, has suggested Infantino could become general secretary of the United Nations, underlines the close relationship between the two men!
Now comes the proposal that should concern supporters more than any previous initiative.
The World Cup is not simply another commercial property. It is football’s crown jewels. FIFA does not own it in the same way a corporation owns a brand. It is merely its custodian, entrusted with protecting a competition built by generations of players, supporters and host nations over almost a century.
Selling part of its future to investors represents a profound change in that relationship.
There is another uncomfortable question. As FIFA becomes ever more commercial, those responsible for driving that transformation inevitably benefit from their reputations as dealmakers. It is entirely conceivable that, once his presidency ends, Infantino could play a leading role in any commercial entity created to manage these rights. If that were ever to happen, the personal financial rewards would almost certainly be substantial. Whether or not it comes to pass, the possibility alone raises legitimate questions about where commercial ambition ends and personal interest begins.
FIFA will argue that outside investment would unlock new resources for developing football around the world.
Yet FIFA already generates billions from every World Cup and possesses vast financial reserves. If football’s richest governing body needs investors to extract even greater value from its flagship competition, then perhaps it is time to ask whether it has lost sight of what that competition is supposed to represent.
The World Cup has survived wars, political boycotts and corruption scandals because supporters believed it ultimately belonged to football.
Selling a stake in it would send a very different message.
It would say that, under Gianni Infantino, even the game’s greatest tournament is no longer sacred. It is simply another asset waiting to be monetised.
