Gianni Infantino has survived worse. A lot worse.
The Swiss-Italian administrator has spent a decade at the top of world football, weathering corruption allegations, a criminal investigation in Switzerland, and the small matter of relocating to Riyadh to be closer to his Saudi friends. A row over Folarin Balogun’s international allegiance is hardly the scandal that brings the house down.
For those catching up: Balogun, born in New York to a Nigerian father and a British mother, raised in London, chose to represent the United States after representing England at youth level. Fine. Players switch allegiances. It happens. What ruffled feathers was the suggestion that political pressure from the Trump administration, keen to boost the USMNT ahead of a home World Cup in 2026, may have accelerated Fifa’s willingness to approve the switch.
European football figures have been quietly furious. The FA and several continental federations feel the rules were bent, or at least leaned on with considerable force. One senior European official described the process as
“a decision made in Washington, rubber-stamped in Zurich.”
But here’s what the Europeans tend to forget: Infantino doesn’t need them anymore. Not really.
When Sepp Blatter ran Fifa, European votes were currency. Now the balance of power has shifted dramatically toward Africa, Asia, and the CONCACAF bloc. Infantino cultivated those relationships carefully, and they’ve paid off. He won re-election in 2023 unopposed. Unopposed. That’s not a man who lies awake worrying about stern letters from the Premier League.
The 2026 World Cup, spread across the United States, Canada, and Mexico, is Infantino’s flagship project. Keeping Washington onside isn’t a luxury; it’s a strategic necessity. If smoothing the path for a telegenic American striker with a London accent helps keep the relationship warm, Fifa’s council will find a way to live with that.
European football bodies can grumble all they like through the proper channels. They’ve been doing it for years with limited effect. Infantino knows precisely how much their disapproval costs him, and the answer, consistently, is very little.
The more interesting question isn’t whether Infantino survives this particular controversy. He will. It’s whether European football will ever find the collective will, or the votes, to actually do something about it.
