Uefa maintains boycott threat as Infantino defies pressure to resign

Gianni Infantino arrived at Fifa's headquarters in Rabat on Wednesday in a motorcade, windows darkened, and when he left, he was still the president. That alone told you something about the state of play in world football's power struggle.

Uefa had demanded two things: that Infantino's plan to sell stakes in the World Cup to private investors be scrapped, and that he pledge never to attempt such a thing again. The plan—formally called the Fifa Forward Enterprise, or FFE—had promised $40 million to each national association that backed it. When the outcry came, especially from Europe, Fifa announced the proposal was dead. But on Wednesday, when Infantino sat down with his management board in Morocco, Uefa looked at what emerged and saw a president who had learned nothing and admitted nothing.

Fifa's statement acknowledged "mistakes" had been made and that the process "should have been handled differently." It was an apology without an apologist. Infantino did not stand alone and take responsibility. His secretary general, Mattias Grafstrom—the same man who had called the FFE proposal "a sad and reproachable series of events" in an internal memo—sat beside him at a Women's Africa Cup of Nations match afterward, both of them smiling. The message was clear: this was a regime closing ranks, not a leader reckoning with failure.

Uefa's response was swift and unforgiving. "Yesterday's announcement that some people employed by the Fifa president agree with him changes nothing," the European confederation said. The conditions had not been met. The boycott threat remained on the table. But as the week wore on, Infantino's isolation proved less complete than his opponents had hoped. On Thursday, the South American confederation backed him. So did the African confederation. Mexico and Argentina, co-hosts and runners-up of the last World Cup, issued statements of support. The Gambian Football Federation praised his "courage." Only Jordan publicly committed to voting against his re-election in March. Concacaf, which oversees North and Central American football, stopped short of declaring lost confidence. The global picture was one of Europe standing alone.

What made this particularly difficult for Uefa was that Infantino had no intention of stepping down. The slow pressure campaign that had seemed promising earlier in the week had failed. He was not being summoned to answer for his actions; he was summoning others to hear his version of events. One Fifa loyalist described the European outcry as bordering on "hysteria," suggesting that Infantino's global legitimacy was being overlooked. The president appeared emboldened, not chastened.

Uefa's options were narrowing. An emergency meeting of the Fifa Council would require support from 19 of 36 confederation and association heads—a threshold that looked impossible to reach. A vote of no confidence would need 106 of Fifa's 211 member associations to pass, a majority that seemed even more distant. Finding a rival candidate to challenge Infantino in March was possible but would take time, and time was Infantino's ally. Fifa was planning to announce new funding to member associations by year's end, another incentive for those considering how to vote.

That left the nuclear option: a boycott. Uefa could refuse to participate in Fifa competitions, including the World Cup. It was a weapon with teeth, but one that could only be used once. Use it to kill a privatization scheme, and you might succeed. Use it to overthrow a president, and you risk looking like Europe is imposing its will on the rest of the world. The threat would soon be tested. The Fifa Women's U20 World Cup was set to begin in Poland on September 5, with six European nations entered, including England. Whether Uefa would follow through remained the question that would define the coming months.