Reece James of Chelsea FC lifts the FIFA Club World Cup trophy after their team's victory Sunday as President Donald Trump watches at MetLife Stadium. (David Ramos/Getty Images)
There are photobombs and then there's what happened this weekend in New Jersey. As the victorious soccer team assembled to lift its prize, President Donald Trump took center stage at MetLife Stadium alongside FIFA president Gianni Infantino. Trump and Infantino then presented the gaudy gold sphere that was the trophy for the inaugural FIFA Club World Cup to the stars of Chelsea, a London-based team that happens to owe most of its sporting success and global fame to the largesse of a Russian oligarch.
But instead of moving aside and letting the athletes have their moment of triumph, Trump lingered, much to the visible bemusement of some of Chelsea's players. Infantino tried to gesture to Trump to follow him and avoid being in the middle of the celebratory photo op, but the president either didn't hear or heed his guidance. There he was, applauding and grinning right next to Chelsea captain Reece James as the latter lifted the trophy. Infantino relented and cheered along.
The moment was fleeting, but it struck observers of the game as deeply symbolic. Infantino helms an institution that is something like a secular Vatican (albeit with far more financial firepower). FIFA's footprint is on every continent; its project has the affection of billions of devotees; and the internal workings of soccer's global governing body are mysterious and shrouded in controversy. Yet FIFA's boss has had to court Trump for months, spending more time with the president during his second term than any other president or prime minister in a bid to ensure the White House's full support ahead of next year's World Cup, which will be co-hosted by the United States, Mexico and Canada.
Miguel Delaney, chief football correspondent for Britain's Independent newspaper, suggested we were witnessing "the full Trumpification of Infantino and FIFA," the further co-opting of a sport increasingly driven by the interests of major corporate backers and the influential sovereign wealth funds of a clutch of Arab monarchies dear to Trump. "There's this brazenness to everything as old norms and standards are cast aside," Delaney wrote, emphasizing the strangeness of Trump's turn onstage. "Trump doesn't even get to stand in the center of the Super Bowl presentation."
In Europe, the traditional heartland of the soccer world, there's a growing resignation that the global game has decidedly left its shores. Next year's tournament in North America will be the first to showcase 48 national teams, a source of irritation among the sport's purists. But in Infantino's vision, it's a prelude to even more ambitious future ventures, including the 2034 World Cup that will be hosted by Saudi Arabia, and a sporting calendar that will further incentivize some of Europe's best clubs to enter tournaments far from their usual stomping grounds.
The shift is so palpable that even Sepp Blatter, Infantino's predecessor who was forced to bow out of his post a decade ago amid corruption allegations, found cause for despair. "We have lost football to Saudi Arabia," Blatter recently said on German television. "We offered it, and they took it. Surprisingly, there is no opposition to this within FIFA."
Trump may not be much aware of these dynamics, but he is now a part of them. He and Infantino "see eye to eye in their approach to power," suggested Kévin Veyssière, a sports geopolitics expert, to French daily Le Monde. "Infantino concentrates all power within FIFA, which is exactly what Trump dreams of in the U.S. And they share the same geopolitical vision, both focused on the Middle East where they have economic interests."
Beyond the ambient politics surrounding the sport, there are myriad other concerns about next year's tournament being staged in Trump's America. Climate concerns are key -- a number of games in the Club World Cup were disrupted by thunderstorms and lightning while numerous players complained of the dangers of the continent's scorching summer temperatures. "I don't think I have ever played in such heat," Andreas Schjelderup, a Norwegian forward who plays for Portuguese giant Benfica, said after a game in Charlotte last month. "I don't think it's healthy, to be honest, but I managed to get through it."
Off the field, there are other worries. "Will international fans and players be welcomed to stadiums in American cities that Trump has threatened over their more open immigration policies -- and will the president be welcomed at an opening match played in Los Angeles where he recently deployed National Guard troops?" asked my colleague Matt Viser who was at the Sunday match and heard boos rain down upon Trump from crowds in the stadium.
There's no indication that Trump is about to scale back policies that have intimidated foreign travelers and scapegoated immigrant communities within the country. When I covered the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, I met numerous visitors from developing countries who suggested they wanted to attend tournaments in the Middle East because they doubted it would be feasible or accessible to travel to United States four years later.
Rights groups are pressing FIFA to push Trump ahead of the tournament. "FIFA should publicly acknowledge the threat U.S. immigration and other antihuman rights policies pose to the tournament's integrity and use its leverage with the U.S. government to ensure that the rights of all qualified teams, support staff, media, and fans are respected as they seek to enter the United States regardless of nationality, gender identity, religion, or opinion," Minky Worden, director of global initiatives at Human Rights Watch, said in a statement last month.
"We call on FIFA to use its influence to encourage the U.S. government to guarantee the fundamental rights of millions of foreign visitors and fans who seek entry to U.S. to attend tournaments, and those of constitutional rights of many immigrants who already live, work, and contribute meaningfully to cities selected to host them," declared a recent open letter signed by 90 civil society groups most of which are based in United States.
If Infantino is listening, it's unclear what he's doing to respond. As the scene on Sunday suggested, he may be tempted to keep smiling from the sidelines.