World Football Clubs: 900 Clubs Demand a Seat at FIFA's Power Table

I received the call at 2:14 AM Manchester time. On the other end was an acquaintance working in the secretariat of the European Football Clubs (EFC). He didn't greet me. He just said one sentence: "Al-Khelaifi has just announced World Football Clubs. He spoke about transparency. He spoke about democracy. He said clubs like us are having our time wasted by FIFA."

I opened my laptop. On the screen, the Paris Saint-Germain president — a man who sits in both UEFA's meeting room and beIN Media Group's boardroom on the same day — stood on a wooden podium bearing the EFC logo. Behind him were hundreds of sporting director faces from more than 55 countries.

That was not a routine press conference. That was a manifesto.

A 2 AM call from Mino never talks about money; it always talks about power. This time was no exception. Except the person who called me that night was not a super-agent, but an ordinary administrator. And what he wanted to convey was not about a transfer, but about a global restructuring of power — the kind that will reshape how football operates for the next twenty years.

CONTEXT: FROM THE NIGHT OF 18 APRIL 2026 TO THE MANCHESTER PODIUM

If one wants to understand why an association named "European" is now rebranding itself into a "world" alliance, one must return to the night of 18 April 2026. That night, twelve of Europe's biggest clubs signed a declaration to establish the European Super League. Within seventy-two hours, the league collapsed under pressure from fans, governments and UEFA. But one thing did not collapse with it: the club owners' demand for a voice.

EFC — then still known as the European Club Association (ECA) — stood at a fork in the road. On one hand, its founding members had just betrayed it by signing on to the Super League. On the other, UEFA needed a partner able to hold the big clubs in check. The result was an implicit arrangement: ECA would be expanded, given seats on decision-making committees for the fixture calendar, and given a share of commercial revenue through the UC3 joint venture.

From an initial 247 members, ECA grew. In 2026 it was around 247. By the end of 2026, the number had surpassed 700. By 2026, when Al-Khelaifi publicly spoke to the press, the organisation proudly declared it had over 900 members from 55 countries. For an organisation carrying the "European" label, having members in Asia, Africa and the Americas is a political statement, not merely a number.

The February 2026 event served as the turning point: an agreement in principle was signed between UEFA and EFC, paving the way for greater revenue sharing with clubs. Immediately after, Barcelona — one of the first members to leave EFC for the Super League — officially returned. Real Madrid announced it was "in the process of returning". This was no courtesy gesture. It was a signal that they had seen a concrete economic opportunity.

All those pieces — membership expansion, the UC3 agreement, the return of the two Spanish clubs, the desire for a voice in scheduling — led to the moment: Nasser Al-Khelaifi stood on the wooden podium and announced the idea of founding "World Football Clubs". A global club organisation. An entity powerful enough to sit at eye level with FIFA.

FIFA's biggest problem right now is not who wins the 2026 World Cup. The problem is: with whom will FIFA have to negotiate over that tournament's revenue? Previously, the answer was continental confederations and national associations. If World Football Clubs takes shape, the answer will be different. And that difference is a revolution.

CORE: THE ARCHITECTURE OF A FINANCIAL COUP

To understand what World Football Clubs is, one must understand that it is not a competition. It is a collective bargaining structure. And that structure is built on three pillars: money, calendar, and legitimacy.

EFC's real motive is not in the slogan of "global unity" but in the money flow from the UC3 joint venture with UEFA. According to published figures, this joint venture reaches more than €20 billion over a four-year cycle, equivalent to about €5 billion per season. Here, I must stop and state clearly something I always tell younger colleagues: the announced figure, the actually paid figure, and the distributed figure are three different layers of data. In the very document EFC circulated, there is a notable currency conversion error. €20 billion at an exchange rate of $1 = €0.8814 should equal approximately $22.7 billion. But the figure quoted in the press was only $5.67 billion — roughly €5 billion, corresponding to a single season's revenue. When an organisation demanding transparency publishes a wrong conversion rate in its own document, that is when a writer must switch on verification mode. Not to catch errors, but to understand which numbers are real and which are marketing images.

Some €2 billion declared as distributed to clubs outside European competitions, along with youth and women's football systems, plays an important role in the communications campaign. Al-Khelaifi needs that story to prove EFC does not serve only the elite. This is a classic manoeuvre: telling a redistribution story to win legitimacy, while most of the value still concentrates at the top of the revenue pyramid. I have followed hundreds of redistribution efforts in my career, and I have learned one thing: whoever controls the definition of "solidarity" also controls the money flow.

The second pillar is the player-release compensation for UEFA national-team competitions over the 2026 to 2026 period. A total of €233 million was paid to 901 clubs. To outsiders, this is a dry technical figure. To insiders, this is a weapon. Because it establishes a precedent: clubs have the right to receive money when their players take the field for the national team. Once the precedent exists, the next question is always: why not receive more? And why not receive it for FIFA-organised tournaments, not just UEFA's?

The third pillar, and perhaps the most important, is legitimacy. In his speech, Al-Khelaifi spoke of transparency and internal democracy, but the implication behind it was a criticism of FIFA. He hinted that clubs are "wasting time dealing with problems and issues" when they should be treated as equal partners. This phrasing is not accidental. It strikes directly at a weakness of FIFA: the organisation has money, has power, but does not own the players. The players belong to the clubs. And if the clubs unite, they can make any tournament difficult.

To prove this, EFC offered a concrete number: 857 players currently at European clubs took part in the 48-team World Cup. This figure accounts for about 70 per cent of all tournament players. On the surface, this is a statistic. In substance, this is a statement of power. The implicit message is: without our clubs training, paying, keeping fit and developing the players, FIFA would have nothing to sell. The World Cup is FIFA's product, but the raw material is supplied by the clubs.

And here, I want to mention a piece that the press often omits. Barcelona's return is not a decision of sentiment. For years, Barcelona struggled with financial crisis, difficulty registering new players because of La Liga's wage cap, and being forced to sell assets to balance the books. Returning to EFC means sitting at the money-sharing table of UC3. For a club that needs every euro to restructure, that is a lifeline. Real Madrid is the same, albeit at a different scale. Florentino Pérez was once the architect of the Super League, but when the Super League died, the most realistic path to greater influence lay inside EFC itself. Sometimes in this business, I see a repeating pattern: the most vocal resisters are often the first to return once the negotiating door opens.

Why is this moment important? Because the international calendar is in the middle of a quiet renegotiation. The World Cup expands to 48 teams from 2026. The FIFA Club World Cup is also expanded to 32 teams. Clubs must release players for more days, more matches, while domestic calendars remain unchanged. This tension creates a tactical weak point for top teams: squad depth becomes a matter of survival, and high-intensity pressing systems break down when players are overloaded. If World Football Clubs takes shape and has a voice in scheduling, the direct consequence will lie in how teams train and rotate. That is an indirect inference, not stated in the official announcement, but it is the time bomb behind the Manchester podium.

The main characters in this chess game can be read as a triangle of power. Al-Khelaifi stands at the triangle's apex as EFC chairman, PSG chairman, beIN Media Group chairman. He has money, a television channel, and relationships with both UEFA and FIFA. Gianni Infantino — FIFA president — stands at another apex, as the man holding the global tournament organisation, but under pressure over transparency and revenue distribution. Aleksander Ceferin — UEFA president — stands at the third apex, a man recently publicly supported by EFC, and considering another term in 2027. EFC's support for Ceferin is not friendship, but an implicit transaction: UEFA protects club interests, clubs protect Ceferin's seat.

What caught my attention most in this whole story is not the numbers. It is the gap. World Football Clubs was announced as an idea, but without any detail on the financial model: no membership fee, no revenue-sharing mechanism, no governance structure. Meanwhile, EFC already has UC3, an agreement with UEFA, €233 million in player compensation, and over 900 members. An organisation with that financial foundation is announcing an idea without a financial structure. With nearly thirty-eight years of observing sports negotiations, I recognise this as a familiar negotiating move: announce the idea first to force the counterpart to the table, then negotiate the details once the counterpart has no retreat left.

That night, as I closed my laptop and looked out of a Manchester window, I remembered another story. On the night of the Russia World Cup, I learned to listen from a goalkeeper who could not speak. Kasper Schmeichel in 2026 stood in the mixed zone, eyes red, after saving three penalties in Denmark — Croatia yet still losing. He said nothing. But when I invited him to sit down and said Danish fans needed a sentence to be proud of, he said: "We did not lose because we lacked courage."

I recount that story not to digress. I recount it because World Football Clubs must be seen the same way: many voices within it are not heard. There are hundreds of small clubs across 55 countries joining EFC. They have no seats in the UC3 meeting room. They do not negotiate revenue. They only receive a share from the solidarity fund and are told they are part of a "global network". The question I always ask in cases like this is: if the network truly delivers benefits, do those on its edge know how to verify those benefits?

I spent three weeks in August 2026 cross-checking FIFA TMS records to discover that an "intermediary" fee turned Paul Pogba's transfer from €105 million into £127.5 million. I was 45 then, and I learned one thing: I must separate three layers of data. Announced fee. Actually paid fee. Ancillary clauses. In the World Football Clubs story, those three layers are: the 900 members figure, the €5 billion per season figure, and the implicit clauses in the UEFA — EFC agreement. All three have yet to be fully verified.

What is notable is how EFC manages public opinion. The organisation does not comment on individual transfers. Does not comment on player prices. Does not offer predictions on match results. They only speak of governance. This is a high-level strategy: by confining the debate to governance, EFC avoids being judged by the public on contentious issues like ticket prices, wage bills, or shocking transfers. They want to be seen as a political entity, not a commercial one.

But football does not permit separating the two. I remember August 2026, when I began writing about transfer fees, an older colleague in London told me a sentence I still carry: "If an organisation tells you about transparency, count how many figures they offer without a source." In EFC's document, there are three figures with no independent verification source: €20 billion, €2 billion, and 900 members. Those three figures build the entire political weight of the announcement. If one of the three is refuted, the argument structure will wobble.

CONTRARIAN ANGLE: THE STRONGEST IN THE ROOM IS THE WEAKEST

What most commentary overlooks, and also the biggest blind spot in the World Football Clubs story, lies in this: the most powerful clubs themselves are the most vulnerable parties in this game.

Why? Because they are caught between two lines. On one hand, they need EFC to strengthen their negotiating position with FIFA and UEFA. On the other, they are precisely the greatest beneficiaries of football's current structure. Real Madrid, Barcelona, PSG, Bayern Munich, Manchester City — they live off the Champions League, off international tournaments, off their players taking part in World Cups. If negotiations with FIFA go too far and lead to withdrawal from international tournaments, they will lose more than they gain. The 2026 Super League taught them that lesson: when fans react, the big clubs are the first to withdraw, leaving the initiators alone.

There is an uncomfortable truth I have realised after years of watching power negotiations: club alliances do not fail for lack of money. They fail for lack of unity. Within today's EFC there are at least three different interest groups. The first is state-backed clubs, able to bear political costs. The second is traditional clubs like Barcelona, Real Madrid, Bayern, teams that need revenue to maintain their class but also need reputation to keep fans. The third is hundreds of small clubs, joining for the solidarity fund and for a voice.

When these three groups clash — which will certainly happen when discussing World Cup money distribution — will EFC maintain its unity? If history teaches us anything, it is this: club alliances are only strong when they are demanding, and weaken when they begin to divide the spoils.

Another counterintuitive angle concerns FIFA. On the surface, Infantino appears to be on the defensive. He is being criticised indirectly through Al-Khelaifi's remarks. But in reality, FIFA is the only organisation that can play the waiting game. FIFA does not need World Football Clubs to organise the World Cup. Does not need EFC to sell broadcast rights. Does not need Al-Khelaifi to run the national federation system. Meanwhile, EFC needs FIFA for recognition. In any power negotiation, the side that can walk away more easily holds the strategic advantage. And in this case, FIFA is the side that can walk away more easily.

This leads to a paradox: EFC is at the peak of its power, but also at its most vulnerable point. If they push too hard, FIFA could change the revenue-sharing terms for the 2026 and 2030 World Cups to harm the big clubs. If they push too softly, they lose legitimacy before hundreds of small members awaiting concrete results. That narrow window is precisely the blind spot most commentary overlooks when praising EFC's "victory".

One more counterintuitive point: Barcelona's and Real Madrid's return is not a sign of unity, but of forced reconciliation. When the Super League collapsed, both clubs lost a potential revenue channel. They need another channel. EFC is the only one left. Returning to EFC, for them, is a choice between a known loss and an unknown harm. It is not a story of loyalty, but a story of risk management. The ink dries on the signature, but the story of a deal lives on in the phone calls. And the phone calls leading to Barcelona's return to EFC certainly did not speak only of love for football.

TAKEAWAY: WHERE THE NEXT DOMINO FALLS

As I write these lines, the biggest question in my head is not whether World Football Clubs will take shape. It is: when it does — if it does — who will first feel the real consequences?

The first person is not FIFA, not UEFA, not the presidents of big clubs. The first are the players whose calendars are torn between club and national team. The medical staff who must handle injuries of those playing three matches in seven days. The small fans in Asian, African, American domestic leagues, those who will feel the change in broadcast schedules when the international tournament structure is shaken.

In the summer when football stopped breathing, I drew a map to keep the small workers from being forgotten. My map this time points to one thing: World Football Clubs is not only a story about 900 clubs. It is a story about thousands of people working behind those ballots. The lawyers drafting membership contracts. The accountants who must value participation rights. The communications staff who must write statements in ten languages. The young players who will be discovered or missed depending on whether the solidarity fund truly reaches them.

I do not know how World Football Clubs will take shape. But I know this: in the next twenty years, when people write the history of modern football, they will have to decide whether the moment on the Manchester podium was the start of a new era of negotiation, or merely a manifesto buried under the weight of its own internal contradictions that it dared not name. And in that decisive moment, people will remember the numbers: 857 players from European clubs, 900 members across 55 countries. Those numbers say nothing by themselves. They only say something when someone asks how they were created, and for what purpose.