The first-ever FIFA World Cup, hosted by Uruguay in 1930, was a farcical affair. No team from Britain participated because they did not deem it worth their while. Italy, Spain, Germany and Hungary also failed to send sides, citing the long journey, cost and lack of prestige. Egypt, the lone African country in contention, got delayed by a storm and missed the ship (quite literally). Out of the four competing groups, one had four teams, while the rest had three. In the final, where Uruguay met Argentina, both teams wanted to play with their own balls. Eventually, Uruguay triumphed 4-2, with many attributing their win to their… ball.
Fast forward to almost a century and no sporting event in the world evokes as much frenzy and fanfare as the FIFA World Cup. What began as an awkward adventure has transformed into a global platform for great football and greater stories. Which is to say that the Club World Cup has plenty of time to redeem itself after a rocky start in the United States, where it has confused more than it has convinced.
‘It’s a real World Cup with the best teams and the best players.’ Not quite
In name, the Club World Cup has been around since 2000 (uninterrupted between 2005 and 2023), when it frequently slipped under the radar after giving a handful of teams jet lag every December. That exercise prevails, rebranded as the FIFA Intercontinental Cup. In scale, though, the current Club World Cup is a fresh beast, modelled after its international counterpart, with 32 teams competing for a month for a barely believable sum of $1 billion.
The Club World Cup has been FIFA president Gianni Infantino’s passion project since 2016. Like most of Infantino’s passions, profits take precedence here, too. Profits chiefly for European clubs (12 of them started out in this year’s edition), one of whom is most likely to win the whole thing on July 13 and pocket a handsome $125 million. Profits for FIFA to the tune of $250 million, which it has promised to set aside for a “solidarity investment programme” meant for “club football across the world” — whatever that means. Profits, not just of the financial kind, for the regime of US President Donald Trump, whose love for big, shiny things was reinforced when he tried cajoling Infantino to let him keep the Club World Cup trophy — which can switch between a shield and an orbital maze — in the White House.
While top clubs from different continents have occasionally met in high-profile contests, the urge to crown an undisputed best club on the planet seems to have acquired urgency solely in Infantino’s mind. “It’s a real World Cup with the best teams and the best players,” said Infantino recently, in a bid to counter the negative press surrounding the competition. This is largely due to extreme heat, fatigued players, poor attendances, and unnecessary American dramatisations such as every player walking out separately before kick-off in a needless homage to combat sports.
The paradox of European hegemony
As usual, Infantino is only half-right. As many of the best teams are missing from the Club World Cup, including Liverpool and Barcelona. This is because FIFA’s qualification system considers a four-year performance cycle, which has led to the presence of Japanese outfit Urawa Red Diamonds, who have been struggling since winning the AFC Champions League in 2022. And while several of the world’s top players have had to cancel their Ibiza trips to be in the US, the challenge in front of them has, at times, felt embarrassing. No wonder Harry Kane was trolled on X when he couldn’t get on the scoresheet as Bayern Munich gave Auckland City a hiding by scoring 10 unanswered goals in their opening group game. To add more context to the size of the mismatch, Bayern’s squad is valued at almost 200 times that of Auckland City.
Having said that, those advocating for the Club World Cup have a simple counter — were it not for the competition, nobody outside Auckland would be talking about Auckland City. So what if their defenders ran out of legs (and air) after 30 minutes, they at least got to keep the sweat-stained shirts of opponents they would otherwise have met on PlayStation?!
This brings us to the central paradox of the Club World Cup — for an extravaganza that aims to be global, how can it break the European hegemony that accounts for so much of its global appeal?
As it stands, nine out of the 16 teams in the first knockout stage (underway Saturday) are European. One round later, will the Club World Cup simply become a second instalment of the UEFA Champions League?
On the contrary, if the likes of Real Madrid, Paris Saint-Germain (PSG) and Bayern are miraculously eliminated in the last 16, how would the tournament make up for the lost star power? Which marquee players from the rest of the clubs (mostly Brazilian) will sustain interest at a time when club football is supposed to be in hibernation? After all, not even FIFA’s machinations can make Lionel Messi play every game.
FIFA may not need the enthusiasm of fans to believe in the future of the Club World Cup
FIFA, for its part, is using all its powers to manifest the Club World Cup as a success. This involves spending $50 million in marketing to boost ticket sales, tying up with DAZN as the official broadcaster (which is streaming all matches for free), and arranging for a “celebration gala” on Wall Street in New York City (on July 10) where attendees can pay thousands of dollars to party with… Infantino.
But are football fans having a ball? Barring South American supporters, for most of whom every match is a pilgrimage, the Club World Cup hasn’t set fandom (or social media) on fire. As far as introducing US audiences to “soccer” is concerned, one doubts how many Americans will remember Nuno Mendes or Liam Delap once the curtain comes down on this summer.
When it comes to narrative stakes or bragging rights, the Club World Cup offers nothing unique to its protagonists. Crashing out early will not cost Luis Enrique or Pep Guardiola their jobs. Kylian Mbappe will not win the Ballon d’Or if he scores a hat-trick in the final. Even Messi, inspired as he has been as part of a deeply flawed Inter Miami, will not be gutted to see his campaign end prematurely. When the lead cast has so little to play for, fans can’t be blamed for being underwhelmed.
Then again, FIFA may not need the enthusiasm of fans to believe in the future of the Club World Cup. In the age of content, all it needs is fans’ eyeballs. Or better still, their engagement. Even if that engagement involves criticising the championship for existing. As Infantino must have learnt from Trump, any publicity is good publicity.
To FIFA, then, it probably doesn’t matter if you care about the Club World Cup. What matters is that you know of its bloated presence on the footballing calendar, that you have scrolled through reels that market it. That you have been prompted to form an opinion about it, however half-baked. Those are the new goalposts in the sport. If it all seems farcical, then that’s the point. The farce is the success.