FIFA’s own goal was years in the making

Some might see FIFA’s failed attempt to sell a stake in the World Cup a little bit like an overconfident child playing a game of Jenga. Little Johnny kept pulling pieces out and the tower somehow remained upright, emboldening him to make one risky move after another with his golden touch. But eventually, he chose the wrong block, and everyone suddenly realised how unstable the whole edifice had become.

That, in the end, is what made FIFA’s own goal so striking. The issue was not that private money had suddenly arrived in sport, that ship sailed long ago. Rugby has seen CVC take stakes in competitions including the Six Nations, Barcelona has sold part of its future La Liga TV rights, and football clubs themselves are routinely owned by private investors, sovereign wealth funds, billionaires and investment groups. 

So, the question is not why people suddenly objected to money in sport but more why this proposal, specifically, provoked such a rapid and successful backlash.

The answer, in communications terms, is that FIFA turned years of creeping commercialisation into one simple, symbolic act that people could understand, name and oppose. Gianni Infantino has spent years expanding and monetising FIFA’s tournaments, from the 48-team World Cup to the enlarged Club World Cup, while controversial decisions over everything from hydration breaks to the award of the 2034 World Cup to Saudi Arabia have often generated criticism without ultimately changing the direction of travel.

In other words, the commercial and governance temperature has been rising for some time. Plenty of people have noticed, and plenty have objected, but rarely in a way that has stopped FIFA. If anything, that lack of effective resistance may have encouraged the belief that another major commercial step could be pushed through.

Thankfully, this time was different. FIFA’s plan to sell a minority stake in a new unit that would run its events, including the World Cup, may have been presented internally as a way to raise billions and invest more money back into global football. Externally, however, it quickly became something much more visceral: selling off football’s family silver, or as UEFA put it, putting the sport’s “soul” up for sale.

And it was this framing that was crucial; with the proposals portrayed as a sell‑off rather than investment to grow the game, FIFA was immediately on the defensive. The fact the proposals were leaked by The Times before FIFA had built visible support or established its own case only made that worse. In sensitive transactions, especially those involving assets people feel emotional ownership over, the first version of the story often becomes the version that sticks.

There are obvious echoes of the European Super League. Football had already been moving in a heavily commercialised direction for years before 2021, with clubs becoming global entertainment businesses shaped by broadcast income and international markets. Still, the Super League failed because it turned that drift into one stark proposal, announced with little warning, that fans, politicians and governing bodies could rally against.

FIFA’s mistake was similar. It did not introduce commercialisation into football. It simply made the direction of travel impossible to ignore. To borrow the old analogy, football’s water has been heating up for some time, but this was the moment everyone woke up and realised it was boiling.

There is a wider lesson here for corporate affairs teams well beyond sport. Organisations can often get away with gradual strategic drift, particularly when changes happen incrementally and are wrapped in the language of growth, efficiency or modernisation. However, they become vulnerable when that drift crystallises into one decision that stakeholders can understand, attack and organise around.

Make no mistake, the direction of travel in sport is only going one way, but the collapse of FIFA’s proposal does offer some hope. It shows that even in a world of ever bigger, richer and more powerful organisations, reputation is not entirely controlled from the top. Journalists can still frame the first version of the story, stakeholders can still organise faster than expected, and individuals inside institutions can still make their voices heard. FIFA may have spent years turning up the heat, but this time, enough people noticed.