Football must never become a playground for political power
In the theater of global football governance, a sitting American president's intervention in a disciplinary matter has exposed the tension between FIFA's stated neutrality and the political realities of hosting the world's largest sporting event. Gianni Infantino, FIFA's president for a decade, finds himself simultaneously at the center of an institutional scandal and mathematically untouchable in next year's re-election — a paradox that reveals how power in world football is distributed not by principle, but by economic dependency. The Folarin Balogun affair, in which an unprecedented red-card reversal followed a public claim of credit by Donald Trump, has drawn fierce condemnation from European football's governing body, yet the 111 votes Infantino has already secured from South American, African, and Asian confederations render that condemnation largely ceremonial.
- A red card that FIFA's own rules said could not be appealed was quietly reversed after Donald Trump publicly claimed he had personally convinced Infantino to act — shattering the fiction of football's political independence.
- UEFA declared FIFA had 'crossed a red line,' and voices from Jurgen Klopp to fifty members of the European Parliament demanded accountability, yet no formal consequence has materialized.
- The Balogun decision is not an isolated rupture but the latest in a series — a fabricated peace prize awarded to Trump, a Somali referee denied entry to the host country, a match relocation reversed without explanation — each incident compounding the sense of institutional drift.
- Infantino has already secured 111 of the 106 votes needed for re-election in 2027, with South America, Africa, and Asia all committed, making any challenge arithmetically impossible before it begins.
- The deeper story is one of dependency: FIFA's development funding and the expanded 48-team World Cup have given less wealthy football nations something Europe cannot offer them, and that gratitude is Infantino's true shield.
Gianni Infantino has led FIFA for a decade, and after the Folarin Balogun affair — a decision so extraordinary it broke the organization's own rules — his hold on power appears stronger than ever.
Balogun, the United States' standout player with three goals in the group stage, was sent off against Bosnia-Herzegovina. Under FIFA regulations, red cards cannot be appealed. Yet after more than 24 hours of silence, FIFA announced it was suspending the ban, allowing him to play against Belgium. The 871-word statement explaining the reversal explained almost nothing. Donald Trump, however, was more forthcoming. Standing beside reporters, the US president claimed credit: 'I'm the one that got them to do it.' The intervention — a sitting president of a co-host nation reaching into FIFA's disciplinary process — sent a shockwave through football. FIFA's own statutes forbid political interference. Nations have been suspended from international competition for far less.
The Balogun decision was not an isolated incident. It followed a FIFA Peace Prize created by Infantino and awarded to Trump himself, complaints from human rights groups that went unanswered, a Somali referee denied entry to the United States while Infantino responded with 'just, you know, chill, relax,' and a chaotic match relocation that was reversed without explanation. Europe has had enough. UEFA declared FIFA had 'crossed a red line,' calling the Balogun decision 'unprecedented, incomprehensible and unjustifiable.' The friction between Infantino and UEFA runs deep — he once worked within that world, presenting Champions League draws. He is no longer welcome there.
Yet none of this will move him. In April, South America pledged its votes to Infantino. Africa's 54 nations followed unanimously. Asia's 47 nations confirmed their support shortly after. He already holds 111 votes; he needs 106 to win. The race is over before it has begun.
The reason the rest of the world backs him so firmly is money and hope. FIFA's development programs have funded football across the globe. The expanded 48-team World Cup has given nations like Cape Verde, Curacao, Jordan, and Uzbekistan a genuine chance to compete. This year, FIFA expects $9 billion in revenue, much of it flowing back to the game's poorest corners. UEFA can fund itself. The rest of the world depends on Infantino's FIFA to survive and grow. The Balogun affair may have appalled Europe — but Europe is only one voice among 211 member nations, and Infantino has already secured everyone else.
Gianni Infantino has run FIFA for a decade. Next year he faces re-election. And yet, after the Folarin Balogun affair—a decision so extraordinary that it broke FIFA's own rules—the Fifa president's grip on power appears, if anything, tighter than before.
Balogun, the star of the United States' World Cup campaign with three goals, was sent off during a group-stage match against Bosnia-Herzegovina. Under FIFA regulations, red cards cannot be appealed. Yet somehow, after more than 24 hours of silence, FIFA announced it was suspending the ban, allowing him to play in the knockout round against Belgium. The 871-word statement explaining this decision explained almost nothing. But someone else did. Donald Trump, standing beside reporters, claimed credit. "I'm the one that got them to do it," the US president said when asked if he had called Infantino. Trump insisted he had only requested a review, not ordered the reversal. But the fact of the intervention itself—a sitting president of a co-host nation reaching into FIFA's disciplinary process—sent a shockwave through football.
The optics were catastrophic. This was not a neutral governing body making a technical judgment. This looked like a presidential pardon, granted to the team Trump's country was hosting, by a man Trump calls his friend. Jurgen Klopp, the former Liverpool manager, captured the fury: "If Donald Trump and Gianni Infantino really sorted this out between themselves, it is madness; it calls everything into question." FIFA's own statutes forbid political interference. Nations have been suspended from international competition for far less—Pakistan alone has been banned three times in eight years for government meddling in football affairs. Yet here was the president of FIFA himself, apparently bending the rules for a politician.
The Balogun decision was not an isolated incident. It was the latest in a pattern of opacity and questionable judgment that has defined Infantino's tenure. There was the Fifa Peace Prize, unveiled at the World Cup draw and handed to Trump himself—a prize that did not exist before Infantino created it, apparently as a gesture of friendship to the American president. Human rights groups complained to FIFA's ethics committee in December that the award violated FIFA's rules on political neutrality. Fifty members of the European Parliament wrote demanding action last month. No response came. There was the Somali referee Omar Artan, denied entry to the United States by immigration officials during the tournament, with Infantino seemingly powerless to intervene. When asked about it, his response was dismissive: "Just, you know, chill, relax." There was the five-hour chaos on Friday when FIFA announced it was moving England's knockout match against Mexico, then reversed course without explanation, as if the reversal had never happened.
Europe has had enough. UEFA, football's European governing body, declared on Tuesday that FIFA had "crossed a red line" with the Balogun decision, calling it "unprecedented, incomprehensible and unjustifiable." This was not UEFA's first clash with Infantino. In May 2025, UEFA president Aleksander Ceferin led a walkout when Infantino arrived two hours and seventeen minutes late to the FIFA Congress, fresh from a diplomatic tour of the Middle East with Trump. Throughout this World Cup, UEFA has been eager to highlight its own superiority—cheaper tickets for Euro 2028, no hydration breaks or red-card theatrics. The friction is real. Infantino came from UEFA himself, once the man who presented the Champions League draws. He is no longer welcome in that world.
Yet none of this will dislodge him. The mathematics are brutal. In April, South America's confederation pledged its ten votes to Infantino. Three weeks later, Africa's 54 nations confirmed unanimous support. Shortly after, Asia's 47 nations followed. Infantino already has 111 votes. He needs 106 to win. The race is over before it has begun. He was re-elected unopposed in both 2019 and 2023. For anyone to challenge him in 2027 would require something truly extraordinary—and even then, the numbers say it cannot be done.
Why does the rest of the world back him so firmly? Money, and hope. FIFA's development programs have funded football projects across the globe. The expanded World Cup—now 48 teams instead of 32—has given nations like Cape Verde, Curacao, Jordan, and Uzbekistan a genuine chance to compete on the world's biggest stage. For confederations with less depth, with less wealth, Infantino has provided something precious: the dream. This year, FIFA expects to generate $9 billion in revenue. That money flows back to the game's poorest corners. UEFA, by contrast, is the rich man of football. It can fund itself. The rest of the world depends on Infantino's FIFA to survive and grow. That dependency is his armor. The Balogun affair may have appalled Europe. But Europe is only one voice among 211 FIFA member nations. And Infantino has already secured the votes of everyone else.
Citações Notáveis
I'm the one that got them to do it— Donald Trump, on convincing Infantino to reverse Balogun's suspension
If Donald Trump and Gianni Infantino really sorted this out between themselves, it is madness; it calls everything into question— Jurgen Klopp, former Liverpool manager
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
So Trump literally called Infantino and got a red card overturned. How is that not the end of Infantino's career?
Because the people who would vote him out—Europe—don't have the votes. Infantino has already locked in South America, Africa, and Asia. He's mathematically unbeatable.
But surely those regions care about corruption and fairness in the sport?
They do. But they also care about the money FIFA sends them. Infantino's development programs fund football in places that can't fund themselves. That buys loyalty.
So the Balogun decision was just... acceptable collateral damage?
Not acceptable. But survivable. Infantino broke his own rules, and Europe is furious. But fury without votes is just noise.
What happens to the sport's credibility if this is how FIFA operates?
That's the real question. UEFA is already signaling it might go its own way. But for now, Infantino keeps the lights on for 150 nations that have no other option.
Is there any scenario where he actually loses in 2027?
Something truly remarkable would have to happen. A candidate would need to emerge who could convince Africa or Asia to flip. Right now, that candidate doesn't exist.