Infantino's $20bn Gamble Collapses Amid Backlash
Gianni Infantino has scrapped his most contentious project yet – a plan to sell a slice of future World Cup profits to private equity – after a furious backlash from across the football world left his presidency under open threat.
What began as a grand vision to “grow the game” has ended, for now, in retreat, resignations and a president fighting to keep his grip on power.
Infantino’s $20bn gamble collapses
On Tuesday, FIFA unveiled FIFA Forward Enterprise (FFE), a new vehicle that would bundle together the sale of its commercial rights – broadcasting, sponsorship, ticketing and licensing – with the operational delivery of its tournaments.
The pitch was bold. FFE, FIFA said, could be valued at around $20bn (£15bn), with up to $4.2bn (£3.1bn) raised from external investors in minority, non‑controlling stakes. In return, the governing body claimed, more than $10bn could be pumped into “football development funding” over the next four years.
Infantino then gave national associations a deadline of September 19 to back the plan. The sweetener: a £30.1m incentive if they signed up.
Instead of applause, he walked into a wall.
UEFA, CONCACAF and the Asian Football Confederation (AFC) lined up against the proposal. The English FA voiced “deep concern”. On X, Prime Minister Andy Burnham cut to the core: “football belongs to fans”, he posted, while calling for “FIFA to undertake an urgent review of its governance”.
The pressure finally told in the early hours of Saturday. At 12:30am (BST), FIFA released a short, pointed statement, clearly marked as being from “the FIFA president”.
“The FIFA Forward Enterprise project was intended to provide a basis for further strengthening our FIFA Member Associations and our sport worldwide, especially in those countries where support is most needed,” Infantino said.
He stressed that FFE would only ever have gone ahead with majority support from member associations and after consultation with the FIFA Council, confederations and other stakeholders. Then came the admission.
“Having listened carefully to all the views, it has become clear that the project has created divisions of a nature that, regardless of the level of support, are no longer in the interest of the objective set out in the first place. Our purpose has always been – and will always be – to unite and improve.
“As a result, this proposal will not proceed.”
No apology. No “sorry”. Just a line in the sand and a promise to “bring all interested parties back together in the coming days and weeks” to keep “growing football everywhere, particularly in those countries that mostly need our support.”
Confederations push back
Infantino’s retreat landed well in Asia. Writing on the AFC website, Sheikh Salman bin Ibrahim Al Khalifa, president of the confederation and a long‑time powerbroker in the global game, welcomed the decision to walk away from the sell‑off.
He underlined a principle that has echoed around Zurich all week: any move “that has the potential to impact global football” must be presented and discussed “with the Confederations, the FIFA Council, Member Associations and other stakeholders in a timely, transparent and meaningful manner”.
“The future of global football,” he added, “must always be shaped through proper consultation, collective dialogue and respect for the established governance structures of our game.”
That language cut to the heart of the criticism. This was not just about money. It was about how FIFA is run – and who gets a say when the World Cup, the sport’s crown jewel, is put on the table.
Resignations, revolt and a president exposed
If the confederations’ resistance wounded the project, the internal revolt may yet scar Infantino’s presidency.
On Friday, Carlos Cordeiro, one of Infantino’s senior advisors, quit in protest. The former US Soccer president did not mince his words, calling the privatisation plan a “bad deal for football” and “for the long-term future of the game”.
“As a senior advisor to the FIFA president, a former banker, and a lifelong football fan, I cannot stand by while FIFA considers selling a stake in the World Cup,” he said in a statement to Sky News.
“Let me be clear: I had no involvement in this proposal, and I oppose it unequivocally.”
He was not alone. Kevin Lamour, FIFA’s chief operating officer, accused the leadership of a lack of openness and said staff had been “deceived” over the plans. Speaking to the Associated Press, he argued that FIFA employees “deserve better than contempt and intimidation” and branded the World Cup sell‑off “the project of one person”.
By then, FIFA had already tried to calm the storm with a late-night statement insisting “nobody is selling football”. The words rang hollow once two senior insiders had broken ranks and the confederations had publicly turned their backs.
The image was stark: a president pushing through a high‑stakes financial play, then watching as his own house, and the wider football family, pushed back.
A presidency under siege
Inside FIFA, the political calculation has changed. Sky Sports News chief correspondent Kaveh Solhekol put it bluntly: Infantino has pulled the plug “in a desperate attempt to keep his job as FIFA president”.
He is right about one thing. It is notoriously hard to unseat a FIFA president. Infantino knows that better than anyone and will not walk away easily. Until this week, the March presidential election looked like a formality. The Swiss‑Italian lawyer was widely expected to stand unopposed, armed with the backing of more than 200 of FIFA’s 211 member associations – including the English FA.
That support can no longer be taken for granted.
Federations across the world are now re‑examining their options. Quietly, conversations have already started about a rival candidate before the November 18 deadline for declarations. The question is no longer whether Infantino has been damaged – many in the game argue his reputation has been eroding for years – but whether this episode finally convinces enough members that it is time for change.
In the meantime, Infantino faces a long list of explanations. To staff who feel misled. To FIFA Council members and confederation presidents who were not fully brought in. To investors and bankers who were sounded out on a $20bn project that has collapsed in a matter of days. And, as Solhekol pointedly noted, to Donald Trump, a man who “famously doesn’t like losers” and to whom Infantino “promised something he could not deliver”.
How long before even Trump decides the FIFA president is yesterday’s man?
Who steps forward?
Names are already swirling, even if no one has formally stepped into the ring.
Nasser Al-Khelaifi, the powerful Paris Saint‑Germain president and member of the UEFA executive committee, is often mentioned in the corridors of power. Yet those close to him insist he has no interest in replacing Infantino.
Sheikh Salman bin Ibrahim Al Khalifa is a more natural contender. He finished second to Infantino in the presidential race 10 years ago and now leads the AFC, one of the bodies that opposed the sell‑off plans. His stance this week will not have gone unnoticed among member associations looking for a steady, experienced alternative.
Victor Montagliani, president of CONCACAF, also fits the profile. His confederation has historically been close to Infantino and just hosted the World Cup across three of its countries. Even so, CONCACAF publicly rejected the FFE proposal on Thursday, a significant political signal.
Then there is Aleksander Ceferin. The UEFA president is perhaps the most intriguing name on the list. He offers a radically different vision for how football should be governed and has been a consistent counterweight to FIFA’s more grandiose ideas. Under Ceferin, there would be no hydration breaks imposed from Zurich, no FIFA Peace Prizes, no Qatari‑owned private jets for the president, no $1m (£742,000) World Cup tickets.
The problem? Ceferin has never publicly shown any desire to move to FIFA. For now, his power base is in Europe, and he seems content to keep it there.
So we are left with a paradox. Infantino is under intense pressure, his judgment widely questioned, his latest flagship project in ruins. Yet the race to replace him has not truly begun.
There is time. There is anger. There is a World Cup to protect. Who, if anyone, will step out of the shadows before November and ask the game’s ultimate question: is this still the man you want running football’s biggest prize?
