We tend to be naturally optimistic. It’s true, after all, let’s enjoy the simple joy of seeing countries like Haiti or Curaçao qualify for the World Cup. This was unthinkable in the not-so-distant era when the world tournament brought together the cream of football nations.
From 1934 to 1978, the World Cup brought together 16 teams, then 24 teams until 1994. Since 1998, 32 teams have competed for the supreme trophy. In 2026, there will be 48: we must rejoice at this opening which allows emerging nations to dream so strongly of the ultimate consecration that their thighs [shorts] remember it.
At best poor matches, at worst humiliations
It is perhaps a protectionist reflex of old Europe, but it is a question here of the notion of exclusivity: the World Cup must present what is best, [sous peine] to see itself desecrated, if not trivialized. Soon, it will bring together 96 teams over three months of competition and no one will want to watch that anymore.
Because the first victim of this openness is the spectacle offered. The differences in level are such that they cannot [déboucher] at best only on poor matches, at worst on humiliations.
Especially since behind this opening presented as humanist by Fifa lies first and foremost the desire to seduce the small football nations, whose voice counts as much as [celle des] large. At the Fifa Congress, Cape Verde – whose qualification we welcome – weighs as much as England.
In this concert of opportunism, the aftertaste is persistent: like the impression that football is being sold off for electoral purposes. Fortunately, we are naturally optimistic.
