This is Part 2 of a two-part series on how power reshaped the world's game. Read Part 1:How FIFAgate, soccer's biggest scandal, became 'a missed opportunity' for reform. The rhetoric of change rang 'round soccer in 2016 with FIFA mired in "the worst crisis of its history." With"rampant, systemic, and deep-rooted" corruption exposed, the powerful men atop the world's most popular sport vowed, repeatedly, to "embrace reform." Inspeechesandinterviews,manifestosandlawyerly reports, they pledged "democracy" and "stronger governance," "transparency" and "accountability," "checks and balances." As delegatesgathered at Zurich's Hallenstadion to voteon an array of changes, a FIFA-produced video proclaimed that they'd "lay the foundations for a new way forward." And then, hours later, theyelected a new presidentwho, in hisfinal speechas a candidate, hardly spoke about reform at all. "We have been speaking in the last few months about many many things: corruption, courts, tribunals, lawyers, whatever, police," Gianni Infantino told voters. "We have to speak again about football." "Of course we have to make the reforms," Infantino added, almost as an aside. But the crux of his pitch to FIFA's 209 member associations, the national soccer federations who get one vote apiece, was money. He campaigned on his own bold promise: to distribute $5 million to each national federation over four years. "The money of FIFA is your money," Infantino boomed, as the room responded with vigorous applause. And ever since, he has been on a semi-ruthless crusade to fulfill — and double down on — that promise. In pursuit of the necessary money, he has cozied up to dictators; he has pushedradical ideasand upended norms. He hasexpandedthe men's and women's World Cups — and, by extension,theirprofitability. He haswilled a controversial new Club World Cupinto existence, rankling soccer's European establishment. Along the way, he has contradicted or quashed many of the changes thathe and colleagues recommendedto guide FIFA out of crisis; he has trampled all over some of the enacted reforms. His supporters hardly care. They see Infantino as a fierce advocate for football who works tirelessly to swell and spread the sport's wealth. "The elite is very much concentrated in very few clubs in very few countries," Infantino told Yahoo Sports in a brief interview last month. "I want to bring it to the entire world." Critics, though, see a different motive. They see a "king supremo" whomakes over $4 million per yearand hands out development money, "the money of FIFA," to appease his constituents — who, in turn, revere him and reelect him,unquestioned and unopposed. They see a "Trumpian" autocrat who has compromised the independence of key oversight committees; anddictated major decisions, always behind closed doors. They haven't seen wads of cash slipped into pockets, nor the "old type of corruption," as two people familiar with FIFA's activities put it. They haven't seen the "endemic" bribery that the U.S. Department of Justice, 10 years ago Tuesday,laid bare. "It's a different type of corruption," says Joseph Weiler, a former member of FIFA's governance committee. "There's no real accountability," he and others explain, because the only people capable of checking Infantino's power are insiders more concerned with protecting their own positions and chomping on the many carrots — development grants, $250,000 stipends, World Cup hosting rights, luxury and more — that Infantino, as FIFA president, doles out. "It's legal bribery," Weiler says. Others call it "vote-buying" or "de facto bribes." The president's power, non-profit FairSquare wrote in arecent report, is "rooted in a model of patronage that disincentivizes ethical conduct" — and that, a decade on from widespread calls for reform, is flourishing. FIFA, soccer's global governing body, has been resourcing development ever since the 1970s, whenJoão Havelangerose to power on a pledge to expand FIFA and distribute its burgeoning wealth. Havelange, a Brazilian businessman who ultimately spent 24 years atop the organization, transformed a Eurocentric, anachronistic clique of 120 members into a worldly web of 191. And with the help of Coca-Cola, FIFA's first worldwide corporate sponsor — a revolutionary concept at the time — he delivered on his promise. First, he and FIFA sent soccer equipment and expertise to scores of developing countries; then, they began sending money. His successor, Sepp Blatter, ran with the scheme; as FIFA's revenues exploded, the annual handouts ballooned to at least $250,000 per member association. And as they grew, critics said, FIFA's oversight of the money remained deficient and opaque. For decades, no one knew how much of it actually served soccer. So the scheme came to be seen less as benevolence, more as patronage. Blatter could, and would, take credit for the fields, facilities, functions and whatever else his programs funded. The beneficiaries — the presidents of national soccer federations, whose votes all hold equal weight at FIFA's Congress — would repay him with loyalty. In 2016, amidrevelationsthat some of soccer's money was not, in fact, funding soccer — and with Infantino promising more of it to members than ever before — FIFA committed to strengthening its oversight.New regulationsstipulate that each national federation is audited every year. If there are "indications" that funds were misused or unaccounted for, FIFA staffers can question a federation or refer it to a committee. Funding can be suspended or restricted — as it currently is for 14 federations, according to Elkhan Mammadov, FIFA's chief member associations officer. "We are ensuring that funds are managed with transparency and accountability, and we're actively supporting Member Associations through regular global workshops focused on financial best practices," Mammadov told Yahoo Sports in an email through a spokesperson. "Our objective is to help federations maximize every dollar for the development of football." The audits, though, are not made public. Although FIFA now publishescountry-by-country overviewsof how the money is used, detailed accounts aren't available; the exact nature and purpose of some spending remains opaque. And the premise remains unchanged. Each member association is nowentitled to the same $8 millionas a baseline from 2023-26 — with more available to those "needing the most assistance." Montserrat, a tiny Caribbean territory of 4,400 people, received $8.9 million from thefirst two iterations of the renamed FIFA Forward program— or $2,000 per island inhabitant. China received $7.9 million. (In total, roughly 90% of the money goes to associations representing 30% of the world's population.) The sums, per FIFA, are not all unconditional handouts. Of the $8 million, $3 million is tied to projects that require approval from FIFA's staff or development committee. Another $2.4 million is contingent upon the federation meetingcertain criteria, such as the administration of competitions and national teams for both men and women. As a result, from 2016-2022,most federations did not receive 100% of their entitlement. But all of them received over 55%, at least $5.5 million. And for many, the money is critical — a reality of which Infantino frequently reminds them. "Seventy percent of you," hetold delegates at the 2024 FIFA Congress, "would have no football without the resources coming directly from FIFA." So, they support him. They seemingly don't mind that his commitments to "democracy" now appear hollow; and that FIFA has become, in the words of one stakeholder, "monarchical." They'll tolerate rule-bending and World Cups stained by human rights abuses, andmeetings delayed "to accommodate [Infantino's] private political interests,"as long as Infantino continues to boost FIFA's revenues and, by extension, their shares of it. When a Reform Committee of insiders met back in 2015 andcharted a course out of crisis, this, a "modern autocrat," is what it hoped to prevent. It wrote that a "wider level of 'participation' in FIFA at all levels" could "help FIFA to modernize itself and to face future challenges." Infantino, in hisown manifesto, wrote that all 200-plus FIFA members "have to be effectively and meaningfully involved in decision-making processes." The president, everyone seemed to agree, should have less power. So they proposed a new structure. The secretary general would be the CEO, and run FIFA's operations. An expanded board, theFIFA Council, "should oversee strategic matters and have a supervisory role," but "should not have executive powers." FIFA's president, the Reform Committee wrote, "should chair the Council and be accountable to it." And yet, when members traveled to Asunción, Paraguay, earlier this month for FIFA's annual Congress, "expecting professional leadership and dialogue at the highest level," Infantino rescheduled meetings, skipped gatherings and delayed the Congress so that he could accompany U.S. President Donald Trump to the Middle East. In general, according to several people familiar with Infantino's leadership, he has not "meaningfully involved" members in decision-making; he has rendered the Congress and Council powerless, and FIFA executives subservient. He hasnegotiated broadcast dealsandcommercial partnerships, effectivelychosen World Cup hosts, and led high-level talks with heads of state by himself. "He's the king of soccer," Trumpsaid in February. "He controls everything," one source says. Two others say that Infantino is even more "hands-on" than his predecessor, Blatter, and multiple stakeholders equate dealing with FIFA to dealing with "Gianni." The 37-member Council, expanded from 24 "to ensure wider participation and democracy," was supposed to rein him in. But early in his presidency, Infantino's FIFA granted extensive power to the "Bureau of the Council," an exclusive group comprising the presidents of FIFA and its six continental confederations. They convene the day before Council meetings — or whenever Infantino decides they should — and that, according to multiple people familiar with board dynamics, is where most decisions get made. The Council merely ratifies them. At Council meetings, there is sometimes substantive discussion but rarely forceful dissent. "Expanding the Council," one source says, "has actually made the president more powerful," because "it's harder [for an opposition] to get organized." Occasionally, Infantino's wildest ideas meetsufficient resistance. When he pushed to double the frequency of World Cups — a norm-busting change that would have instantly inflated FIFA's revenues but undercut other competitions and the World Cup's long-term appeal — a broad coalition of players, managers, clubs and governing bodiesforced him to back down. But he bullied his way through similar resistance, and through internal doubts, tolaunch a 32-team Club World Cupthat he and his supporters see as a crucial tool in his bid to bust Europe's quasi-monopoly on elite club soccer. Players unions, citing an overloaded calendar, havecalled the Club World Cup a "tipping point" and sued FIFA. They, theleaders of European leagues, and many others have blasted Infantino's "unilateral" decision-making. But none have any formal power to stop him. And that, experts argue, typifies FIFA's core defect. While its structure privileges the presidents of tiny federations, "clubs are on the outside, players are even further on the outside," saysStephen Weatherill, a University of Oxford professor who studies sports governance. "And the fans are so far on the outside you can't even see them." In theory, there are several bodies that could curb Infantino's power. Federations could speak up. Council members could object to decisions.Judicial and governance committeescould investigate, block or sanction any infringements of FIFA's codes and regulations. But Infantino, in a variety of manners, has preempted dissent. In his first full year as president, heushered out the two ethics committee chairmenwho'd been policing corruption, a move they called the "de facto end to the reform efforts." And when the newly created governance committee opposed the election of Vitaly Mutko, Russia's deputy prime minister, to the FIFA Council because he failed to satisfy rules regarding neutrality,Infantino and his deputies allegedly exerted pressureon the committee's chairman, Miguel Maduro. The committee held firm; soon, Maduro was ousted. Three other committee members resigned in protest. "As far as checks and balances are concerned," aCouncil of Europe rapporteur wroteseveral months later, "the [FIFA] President and the Council made it clear that they are in command; those that are not with them are against them and must leave." The Council members, meanwhile, get paid $250,000 per year to attend a few meetings, mostly to "raise their hand when they're supposed to raise their hand," as one person with knowledge of the meetings says. Those who don't, or who speak up, can be nudged out when their terms expire. And any federation president who refuses to support Infantino, either in an election or a Congress vote, can be ostracized. Vague FIFA rules, such as the one prohibiting "political interference," can be "weaponized," as FairSquare wrote, "to keep non-loyal member associations in check." Even powerful ones, like those in England or the U.S., must curry Infantino's favor tosecure tournaments like the Women's World Cup. "There's more people open to reform than you might think," Maduro says from experience. "But they are simply afraid of speaking out," because they'll be "socially sanctioned, deprived of any access to influence, or to any relevant position in the world of football." Lise Klaveness, the president of Norway's soccer federation and one of the few vocal critics,has describeda "culture of fear" that stems from the top;FIFA employees have too. And that, Maduro says, "is the reason why I think [reform] needs to be imposed from the outside." Most faint hopes of internal reform faded in 2023 and 2024 whenInfantino engineered a complex compromise to award the 2034 men's World Cup to Saudi Arabia— one of hiswealthiest and most willing backers. He took a decision supposedly reserved for the Congress and seemingly made it with the Bureau, in private. He circumventedFIFA's statutes, which required "a fair and transparent bidding procedure" and a public vote, then announced the choice even before FIFA and the Saudis devised a human rights strategy — whichAmnesty International ultimately describedas a "whitewash." And yet, when it came time to rubber-stamp the choice, at an extraordinary virtual congress in December, only one of FIFA's 211 members — Norway — evenexpressed "concern." The rest, at Infantino's request, simply applauded toapprove Saudi Arabia by acclamation. The charade, experts say, reinforced their belief that the only realistic mechanism of meaningful change is outside intervention, either via courts or legislation. On that first battlefront, several stakeholders shut out by FIFA — clubs, leagues and players unions — have beenfighting. But their legal claims, all filed in Europe, progress at a painfully slow pace. And although they could lead to a "piecemeal" erosion of FIFA's power — over things liketransfersand theinternational match calendar— it's "hard to see how [litigation] would result in a comprehensive reform, and a well-thought-out reform," Maduro says. The second option, he and others say, is regulation by the European Union. But that, most agree, is "politically dangerous" and unlikely. It would require "political momentum," and likely "a moment of outrage," perhaps a massive corruption scandal. But even the biggest such scandal in modern sports history, "FIFAgate,"failed to generatethe necessary impetus. And even when agroup of European Parliament members wrote to FIFA"to express our grave concerns regarding the decision to award the 2034 World Cup to Saudi Arabia," they focused on human rights and environmental sustainability; they did not critique the process by which the decision was made, nor the structures that enabled it. So, in academia, there areproposalsbut pessimism; in FIFA, there is acceptance of, and often support for, the status quo. And there is one workaholic calling all the shots, jetting from continent to continent and coast to coast,hobnobbing with Trumpand relishing both the grind and the fame. "Because I love what I'm doing," Infantino told Yahoo Sports when asked why he'd become such an executive president, with his hands on everything. "I think it was absolutely necessary for FIFA to reform dramatically, to bring back transparency, to bring back ethics, but to work hard — this is the most important: we all have to work hard. We have a responsibility here. We are not just here to take pictures. We are here to bring soccer … to the entire world. And there is so much to do. "This is the mandate I have, the mandate in which I was elected," he continued. "And that's why — I love to be with people, I love to travel. I love to change things, to bring things, to create new things, to unite the world and bring soccer all over the world."
