David Sneyd

GIANNI INFANTINO OWNED the stage and thought he controlled the message.

Up until the last year it would have been remembered as the Fifa president’s most ridiculous, shameful act of faux statesmanship. All credit to him, though, he has taken his game to new despairing heights.

But on the eve of the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, The Zealot of Zurich was preaching his truth.

Infantino, the son of Italian immigrants who grew up in Switzerland, felt this was his breakout moment.

He had risen through the ranks of the game’s governing body to eventually become the man trusted to lead a new era of sensibility following years of Fifa corruption.

Infantino replaced the disgraced Sepp Blatter in February 2016. Six years later, in November, he was presiding over a World Cup in a desert that had to be moved from its traditional place in the calendar to avoid the distinct possibility of mass casualties due to the heat.

There were deaths, of course, with a 2021 investigation from the Guardian reporting that 6,500 migrant workers died during the construction of World Cup venues and infrastructure in Qatar.

Infantino, however, insisted that he was one of them, the outsiders. A boy done good, a young boy who grew into a man and carried the memories and pain of his childhood.

“We have been told many, many lessons from some Europeans, from the western world,” he began.

“I think for what we Europeans have been doing the last 3,000 years we should be apologising for the next 3,000 years before starting to give moral lessons to people.”

And then Infantino reeled off a soliloquy of bullshit that lasted 57 minutes.

“Today I feel Qatari.

“Today I feel Arabic.

“Today I feel African.

“Today I feel gay.

“Today I feel disabled.

“Today I feel [like] a migrant worker.

“Of course I am not Qatari, I am not an Arab, I am not African, I am not gay, I am not disabled. But I feel like it, because I know what it means to be discriminated [against], to be bullied as a foreigner in a foreign country. As a child I was bullied because I had red hair and freckles, plus I was Italian, so imagine.”

Will the same kind of self-serving address even happen in the days leading up to the opening game of the 2026 World Cup between Mexico and South Africa at the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City on Thursday 11 June?

If so, Infantino can put on his finest Gordon Gecko power suit and simply decree this The Greed is Good World Cup.

Mic drop. Exit stage.

Fifa say it will be worth $13 billion (€11.16 billion) to them, and North America is the perfect market to eke out every single cent.

The build up to the tournament, which will take place across Canada, the United States and Mexico, has been dominated by human rights concerns, immigration enforcement debates, an active war between America and Iran, not to mention the exorbitant cost being foisted on fans from dynamic pricing for match tickets right down to the opportunistic gouging with public transport costs.

Yes, you can watch Norway v Senegal in MetLife Stadium, but you’re looking at a few grand for the privilege; the seat won’t be in the place you thought it was; and the 18-mile train journey from Manhattan which usually costs $12.90 will now actually be $98, but don’t worry, it was going to be $150 only for the outcry.

The 42 will be at the tournament for the duration, from 11 June to 19 July. Some in that part of the world may have become so brainwashed by the warped realities of their capitalist American Fever Dream that looking for sympathy about being fleeced at every turn would be like seeking understanding from a captive with Stockholm Syndrome.

Some, but not all, because this week it was confirmed that Fifa faces an investigation by the states of New York and New Jersey over those ticket prices, how the tickets were sold, with the accuracy of where seats were located in stadiums a key issue.

New York attorney general Letitia James and New Jersey attorney general Jennifer Davenport released a joint statement condemning Fifa, while Ms Davenport went further by saying the organisation had “turned buying a ticket to the World Cup into a gauntlet of confusion, fake ⁠scarcity and impossibly high prices.”

Fifa have gegenpressed their way so aggressively into the top tier of the dynamic pricing market that even in a country that has always served The Almighty Dollar above all else in society, sport included, they have been taken aback by the audacity of the operation.

From the outside, sporting culture in the United States has never felt rooted in any kind of community or shared sense of self.

It has looked vacuous and synthetic, a soulless subsidiary of a corporate, transactional existence to the point fans might wail about their “franchise” leaving a city, but their primary complaint will be that their State should have simply provided the tax relief required to keep them there.

The sports industry is worth billions, trillions perhaps, but in a country where the health insurance industry can coldly categorise the price of a life, why should there be any shock at all that a hotel in Kansas City would try to increase its rate 10-fold around Ecuador v Curaçao?

Incredibly, though, it seems the levels of Fifa’s gluttonous modus operandi has brought out just a sliver of socialism among some in American society.

World Cups will not bring any meaningful financial change to a place, not really. The lasting impact will be cultural. But does America or Fifa care about the value of something that cannot be monetised?

You may view the experience of a World Cup as being on a righteous path to self-determination, but they wonder what the benefit is of offering such enlightenment if they cannot extract as much money from you with various tolls along the way.

Which is why even US President Donald Trump baulked at the $1,000 ticket price for the United States’ opening game with Paraguay in Los Angeles on 12 June. Not just that, Fifa’s resale market demands that they must receive a 30% transaction fee with both the buyer and seller stumping up 15% of the purchase price.

“I would certainly like to be there, but I wouldn’t pay it either, to be honest with you,” Trump told the New York Post on 7 May, which is a shame, because it would be hilarious to watch him post about VAR in real time on Truth Social.

“If people from Queens and Brooklyn and all of the people that love Donald Trump can’t go, I would be disappointed, but, you know, at the same time, it’s an amazing success. I would like to be able to have the people that voted for me to be able to go.”

Were he able to, Infantino would be next in line at the voting station behind Trump and the First Lady to cast his vote.

So far, before a ball has been kicked, Trump and Infantino’s symbiotic relationship has been one of the defining symbols of this World Cup.

Infantino was invited to Trump’s inauguration, and they have met on at least a dozen occasions since. The pair even agreed between themselves to host the World Cup draw on 5 December at the Kennedy Centre in Washington.

Two weeks later the board of the centre, appointed by the US president, passed a motion to rename it as the Trump-Kennedy Centre.

Before that, on 22 November, AP reported how the centre would be paid $7.4 million (€6.36 million) to host the draw, with Fifa contributing a $2.4m donation.

It was at the draw that Trump, having voiced his disappointment at not receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, was presented with Fifa’s inaugural peace prize instead.

This was partly in response to Trump also establishing the Board of Peace, ostensibly to help rebuild Gaza, which AFP explained consists of a board that is “unambiguously led not just by the United States but personally by Trump, who holds the final say and can remain in charge past his presidency.

“Trump previously said that the United States would contribute $10 billion (€8.6 billion) to the board, while Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates each promised at least $1 billion (€859.55 million). Members of the board are required to pay $1 billion (€859.55 million) for a permanent spot, according to its charter.”

On 27 May, the Financial Times reported how the fund had zero in cash, that it had received nothing from donors since its inception in January with donations instead being received into a separate JP Morgan account.

For further context of Trump and Infantino’s bond, the Fifa president was at the first meeting of the Board of Peace in Washington on 19 February.

In a clear breach of Section 5 of Fifa’s Code of Ethics, Infantino wore one of the MAGA-style red hats with USA emblazoned across the front and 45-47, a reference to Trump’s two terms as president, on the side.

Infantino even attended an event in Egypt alongside Trump last October to mark the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas. Infantino posted about it on Instagram and Fifa put out a press release on their website hailing how he “joined more than 20 world leaders, presidents, and officials at the Summit for Peace.”

And that brings us to Fifa’s congress in May of this year. Before Infantino confirmed what everyone knew, that it was his intention to stand for re-election for a third full-term, he brought delegates from Israel and Palestine to the stage.

He stood at the podium in front of them and declared repeatedly: “We will work together.”

The room filled with awkward applause and, much like he did in Qatar, Infantino sensed his moment again. He left his pulpit and sought to orchestrate a handshake between the pair, with Infantino in the middle, only for the president of the Palestinian Football Association, Jibril Rajoub, to understandably refuse to reach out to Israel FA vice-president Basim Sheikh Suliman.

“Please, we are suffering,” Rajoub said, before pulling Infantino towards him and then leaving the stage.

Apropos of nothing, Trump also jokingly declared at a Saudi-backed investment conference in Miami in March that “I always like to hang around losers actually because it makes me feel better. I hate guys that are very, very successful and you have to listen to their success stories. I like people that like to listen to my success… Only kidding, I want to say that — eh, sort of.”

Infantino was not in attendance, but such is their closeness, The Athletic detailed in April how “senior Fifa management” discussed with Infantino “the possibility of him making a direct request to President Donald Trump for a full moratorium on ICE raids across the United States during the World Cup this summer.”

This is where a sobering reality of the American landscape leaves a chill.

When Trump regained power in January 2025, he began to follow through on his mass deportation edict by empowering the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency throughout the country.

Around 60,000 people have been detained nationwide while in January two American citizens – Renee Good and Alex Pretti – died while protesting against ICE agents operating in Minnesota.

Just this week, an investigation into the detention centres by the Associated Press found that “since October, seven deaths have been classified as suicides, a number that is already the most for any fiscal year in the agency’s history. ICE has usually recorded one or no such deaths annually.”

At a time when it feels like America has never been more insular, turning its back on the world unless they are on bended knee, they are welcoming the largest global gathering of humanity. The actions of ICE throw of grim Trojan Horse vibes.

To say this is simply a divisive or unprecedented World Cup, which of course is true, also feels banal when this is a World Cup that threatens the freedoms and liberty of some while at the same time denying it outright to others – like Iran, who will be hosted by Mexico after the country’s president, Claudia Sheinbaum, claimed the USA was unwilling to do so.

If sport is supposed to be the thing that helps remove you from some of the perilous realities and struggles of existence, how can this World Cup be a true celebration?

Should there be guilt in still wanting to savour the football to come? Of wanting to be able to feel that naive, pure giddiness of your childhood, and being hopeful of seeing the kind of imagination on the pitch that is still hard to fathom in your wildest dreams even now.

It doesn’t feel as wrong going into this place with your eyes open to the political and social landscape, fully aware of the wrongs that are happening and of the level of injustice, of greed that has been at the forefront of so much of the planning.

It feels like you must be able to compartmentalise these wrongs while highlighting them and somehow still enjoying the beauty of the sport and how it can make you feel, how it has always made you feel and how it has always provided an added sense of purpose to your life.

From a selfish point of view, a view that is drenched in nostalgia and naivety, it makes you remember when you fell in love with football, why the game means so much to you.

This is the biggest World Cup ever with 48 countries taking part. Some will say that dilutes the quality but then you could say that about any domestic league in the world once you’ve peeled beyond a half dozen teams.

There are always stories and ambitions beyond the elite that are worth exploring, and in the end it will be the football and the people that Make The World Cup Great Again.