Gianni Infantino appears to have reached his own Icarus moment, a point at which his ambition has led him too close to the metaphorical sun. Only a few days after unveiling his proposal to commercialise shares of the World Cup, the plan is already teetering on the brink of collapse.
The governing body for European football, UEFA, has openly threatened to boycott all FIFA competitions unless the scheme is abandoned outright. Its counterpart in North and Central America and the Caribbean, CONCACAF, has also dismissed the idea, and the Asian Football Confederation has issued a strong condemnation.
Even Infantino’s own senior adviser, Carlos Cordeiro, has stepped down in protest. In the midst of this backlash, FIFA has signalled its intention to press ahead and bring the proposal to a vote, but the sheer scale of opposition from the sport’s most influential continental federations makes success in its current form highly unlikely.
Whatever the outcome, the episode will be remembered as a stark illustration of hubris – the moment when the FIFA chief, who has long been permitted to push the limits of his authority, flew too close to the sun. One of the most telling remarks came from Bernd Neuendorf, president of the German Football Association, who admitted that he first learned of Infantino’s plan through the media rather than through any internal briefing. "This news surprised us," Neuendorf told the German outlet Kicker.
"As a member of the FIFA Council – the sport’s highest decision‑making body – I expected to be informed in advance about a project of this magnitude. It is a comprehensive initiative that must have been discussed for months, if not longer. Yet it never appeared on the council agenda, and we were forced to discover it through press reports." The FIFA Council, which includes 37 members representing the six continental confederations, is indeed the most senior executive forum in world football. However, there is no public evidence that the council was consulted during the development of FIFA Forward Enterprises (FFE), the vehicle behind the share‑sale concept, which has reportedly been in a conceptual phase for more than a year.
On Friday, FIFA issued a third clarification in as many days, insisting that a "consultation process was disrupted by incorrect media reports." The statement did not specify which reports were deemed inaccurate or how the alleged disruption occurred, but the damage had already been done. Key figures across the football world, including members of the sport’s top governing council, felt blindsided by a complex and divisive piece of legislation that they had never been warned about.
The oversight is staggering. Power brokers in football often carry sizable egos and wield considerable political influence.
In a video released late on Tuesday, a weary‑looking Infantino delivered a scripted monologue, attempting to reframe the proposal after the media storm. He portrayed the plan as a misunderstood effort to address football’s inequities, speaking in a tone that many perceived as patronising. If the move was genuinely made in good faith, the decision to keep it secret undermined trust and only served to alienate the international football community. The episode forces a broader reflection on the nature of the FIFA presidency and the limits of its power.
When a president feels confident enough to develop a far‑reaching initiative outside of any committee or transparent process, it signals a need for institutional reform to guard against unchecked hubris. This overreach – the flaunting of consensus – appears to have landed Infantino in political trouble that he has historically managed to avoid throughout his decade‑long tenure. Critics point out that many of the current grievances are set against a backdrop of more serious controversies that have been tolerated.
Under Infantino’s watch, World Cups have been staged in Russia and Qatar, and the bidding processes for the 2030 and 2034 tournaments were allegedly manipulated to shield Saudi Arabia from opposition. Boycott threats have been voiced before, but never with the seriousness that now accompanies the share‑sale proposal, suggesting that this may be a tipping point in a pattern of unilateral decision‑making.
A recurring refrain in recent commentary is that Infantino is trying to sell something that does not belong to him. He increasingly behaves as if the World Cup were his personal asset, positioning himself as a broker rather than a neutral administrator. The controversy over the FIFA Peace Prize awarded to former U.S. President Donald Trump, the insertion of mandatory hydration breaks at the recent World Cup without consulting IFAB, and the unconsulted inclusion of a 30‑minute halftime entertainment segment all illustrate a tendency to bypass traditional governance structures.
Other incidents have added fuel to the fire: the handling of the Folarin Balogun transfer saga, Infantino’s self‑congratulatory celebration of his ten‑year anniversary as president, and a recent incendiary Instagram post in which he accused critics of "spreading hate" and dismissed any criticism as unwelcome. These moments collectively expose a deeper problem – a lack of preparedness within FIFA to communicate transparently when crises arise.
It suggests that perhaps no comprehensive communication strategy existed, relying instead on Infantino’s personal authority to steer outcomes. This crisis, however, should serve as a cautionary tale. The sport cannot afford to find itself repeatedly blindsided by top‑down decisions made without adequate consultation. Reforming the governance framework, ensuring that major proposals undergo rigorous, inclusive scrutiny, and restoring confidence among the continental confederations are essential steps to prevent a repeat of this Icarus‑like fall.
The original article was published by The Athletic and is © 2026 The Athletic Media Company.