Infantino and the Art of the Deal

Gianni Infantino has managed the curious feat of becoming one of the most disliked figures in not just football, but sport itself. After declaring the 2026 World Cup “the greatest World Cup of all time,” he could perhaps have expected a little gratitude from the football community. Still, Infantino’s reputation has since nosedived. So how did FIFA’s president become such a controversial figure? The answer, in no small part, lies in the person Infantino chose to thank for the tournament’s success: US-President Donald J. Trump.

Originally, Infantino was sold as something of a palate cleanser for FIFA after the corruption and scandal of his predecessor, Sepp Blatter. The grassroots were less impressed. Infantino may have been popular enough with football’s assorted grandees, but the public was hardly queuing up to put his name on the back of their shirts. A 2017 Transparency International survey of 50 countries found that 53% of respondents lacked confidence in FIFA after his first year in charge. In other words, Infantino did not begin with a great reservoir of public affection which Trump later came along and helpfully emptied. There was barely a reservoir to begin with.

In the aftermath of the 2026 World Cup, that palate cleanser perception had lost its freshness. Infantino's conduct in the build-up to and during the tournament had already attracted criticism, from the creation of the ridiculous FIFA Peace Prize to his willingness to overturn red card decisions in favour of the host nation. Infantino’s increasingly cosy relationship with Donald Trump attracted scrutiny of a rather different kind, leaving the FIFA president looking less like football’s impartial custodian and rather more like a man who had found a useful friend in the White House.

Infantino cultivated a relationship with Trump that went well beyond the usual sporting niceties. He was rarely far from the president, happily appearing at his side and showering him with praise, all rather awkward for an organisation that likes to insist football is above politics. This was not simply a case of the FIFA president politely smiling for the cameras while the host nation’s leader took the credit. Goal rather less diplomatically described Infantino as spending the previous two years “massaging Trump’s ego.” Indeed, the relationship has become so peculiar that it left some football observers almost nostalgic for the days of Sepp Blatter. A remarkable achievement, given Blatter’s own dubious track record.

The controversy intensified after the tournament with Infantino's plans to sell off FIFA's commercial interests. His proposed FIFA Forward Enterprise scheme would have created a new commercial entity in which 20% would have been sold to private investors for around $4.2 billion. The proposal was met with opposition from football authorities around the world, most notably UEFA, CONCACAF and the Asian Football Confederation. FIFA subsequently abandoned the plan within days.

The resistance’s scale was significant. Reuters reported that the organisations opposing the proposal represented more than half of FIFA's 211 member associations. UEFA has arguably been the scheme’s most vocal critic, preparing a criminal complaint against Infantino over his plans.

The FFE controversy exposed what was lurking beneath the Trump’s and Infantino’s bromance. Joshua Kushner, the brother of Trump's son-in-law Jared Kushner, was expected to be involved as a potential investor in the proposed commercial entity. Importantly, there is no hard evidence that Trump himself had anything to do with the scheme. But after a summer spent cosying up to the President, Infantino could hardly complain if people noticed that Trump’s extended family seemed to be turning up rather close to his business affairs. The optics were terrible.

That association has become even more consequential as Infantino has reportedly sought support from the Trump administration amid mounting opposition to his position as FIFA president. Trump has publicly warned that removing Infantino would be a ‘terrible mistake,’ providing a FIFA president with an unusual political endorsement for an apolitical organisation.

Yet rather than strengthening Infantino's position, Trump's backing may be exposing Infantino’s biggest liability. FIFA has spent years insisting that itself and football should remain politically neutral. Yet its president has attached himself to one of the planet’s most polarising political figures. Trump has not merely turned up for the photographs or shared the occasional stage with Infantino. He has become one of the FIFA president’s most conspicuous political allies. 

It is difficult to pass that off as routine diplomacy. Infantino has gone well beyond the customary relationship between a sporting body and the government hosting its biggest tournament. He has not simply learned to navigate political power. He appears rather keen to cultivate it. The problem is therefore no longer just that people dislike Infantino. They increasingly have reasons to wonder what, exactly, they are supposed to trust him to do. His pursuit of commercial influence, political access and personal power has made the distinction between football governance and the machinery of power rather difficult to spot.

His relationship with Trump is the clearest example. It gives Infantino access to one of the world's most powerful leaders, but it also makes FIFA look increasingly removed from the political neutrality it claims to uphold. The FFE controversy has only deepened those concerns. Trump's public defence of Infantino therefore has little consequence. Rather than securing his position, it reinforces the perception that his survival depends on political patronage rather than the confidence of football's stakeholders. And that raises an uncomfortable question: who is Infantino actually accountable to?

Infantino may have declared the 2026 World Cup the greatest in history. The more interesting question is what it has done to the man declaring it. Rather than just delivering a successful tournament, Infantino has left FIFA facing uncomfortable questions about how much political influence, commercial ambition and personal power one president is supposed to want. The trouble is that, in Infantino’s case, the answer appears to be: rather a lot.

For Infantino, the irony is stark. Trump may have boosted his power, but he has also left him looking rather less like football’s man and rather more like Trump’s.

Image: Wikimedia Commons/The White House

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