By Brian Wesaala
The FIFA World Cup 2026 will be remembered as a landmark in football history. Expanded to 48 teams for the first time and hosted across Canada, Mexico and the United States, it became the largest and richest tournament the game has ever seen. It attracted record commercial investment, delivered unprecedented global exposure for sponsors and broadcasters, and further strengthened FIFA’s position as the owner of the world’s most valuable sporting event. Yet perhaps the tournament’s most important legacy will not be found in the football that was played, but in the value that was created and the question of who ultimately captures it.
On the pitch, it also offered hope to many emerging football nations. More countries participated, new stories emerged, and the tournament felt more representative of football’s global reach than ever before.
For Africa, however, the World Cup should leave us with questions that extend well beyond the ninety minutes played on the pitch.
Nearly a decade ago, I wrote three articles exploring FIFA from different perspectives. The first examined FIFA’s business model and how the organisation creates and captures value. The second explored stakeholder capitalism, asking whether football’s success truly benefits everyone who contributes to it. The third looked at FIFA’s evolving risk landscape, arguing that governance, legitimacy and institutional trust would become increasingly important as football’s commercial influence expanded.
At the time, these were largely theoretical discussions.
Watching the FIFA World Cup 2026 unfold, I realised they have become practical ones.
Today, through the Football as Infrastructure (FaI) framework, I believe these conversations converge into a much bigger question — not how FIFA should run football, but how Africa should position itself within the global football economy. Football is no longer merely entertainment or a vehicle for development. It is infrastructure: an ecosystem that shapes education, employment, public health, social cohesion, technology and economic growth. When viewed through that lens, every World Cup becomes more than a sporting spectacle; it becomes an opportunity to evaluate whether football is strengthening the societies that sustain it.
One of the dominant narratives throughout the tournament was Africa’s apparent progress. The expansion to 48 teams allowed the continent to send more representatives than ever before, and there was understandable excitement when nine African nations progressed to the Round of 32. Headlines spoke of a breakthrough. Commentators suggested African football had entered a new era.
Perhaps it had.
But I found myself asking a different question.
Participation Is Not Development
Did African football actually become stronger, or did the tournament simply become bigger?
These are not the same thing.
Tournament expansion naturally creates more opportunities for nations to qualify and progress. It does not automatically produce stronger football ecosystems. Those are built over decades through investment in grassroots football, coaching, governance, infrastructure, education, domestic competitions and institutions. Measuring success purely by knockout-stage appearances risks confusing participation with development.
If football is infrastructure, then our scorecard must change. Instead of asking how many African teams reached the Round of 32, perhaps we should ask whether the tournament left African football stronger than it found it. Did our domestic leagues become more valuable? Did our clubs improve? Did our academies receive greater investment? Did football create more employment? Did communities become healthier and more connected? Did governments begin to see football as an economic sector rather than merely a recreational activity?
Those questions matter far more than a league table that is reset every four years.
Representation Without Agency
Another story from the tournament received remarkably little attention, yet it reveals much about Africa’s place within global football governance.
While African players once again illuminated the World Cup with their talent, many African supporters found themselves unable to attend because of visa restrictions. Reports even emerged of Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan, Africa’s reigning top-rated official, being denied entry despite travelling on a valid visa and holding an official tournament appointment. Whether isolated or systemic, these incidents expose a broader reality: Africa still exercises limited agency within the structures of global football.
This should concern us.
Africa contributes enormously to the global game. It supplies some of the world’s finest footballers, possesses one of football’s youngest populations and most passionate fan bases, and represents one of the fastest-growing consumer markets in sport. Yet when obstacles emerged that disproportionately affected Africans, there was little evidence of a coordinated continental response.
Where was the African Union?
Sixty years ago, Africa boycotted the 1966 FIFA World Cup in pursuit of representation. That struggle succeeded. Today, Africa enjoys greater representation than ever before. But perhaps the next stage of that journey is no longer about representation alone. It is about agency. It is about having the institutional influence to shape the global football agenda rather than merely responding to it. This is precisely the shift the Africa Football Business Summit (AFBS) 2026 is built around — from Africa’s historic fight for participation towards a future centred on ownership and value creation.
Africa Supplies the Game. Who Captures the Value?
The tournament also reminded us where football’s economic value continues to reside.
This was FIFA’s richest World Cup. Commercial partners enjoyed unprecedented visibility. Broadcasters reached billions of viewers. FIFA increased financial distributions to participating associations, an important and welcome step that allows more of the tournament’s commercial success to flow back into the global game.
Yet the underlying architecture of football’s economy remains largely unchanged.
Lionel Messi once again demonstrated why he remains football’s greatest commercial asset. His performances captivated audiences around the world and reinforced the extraordinary value that iconic players create for the sport. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Football has always relied on its biggest stars to inspire new generations.
The more important question is where the value generated by those stars ultimately accumulates.
African players continue to become global icons, yet the economic returns they generate are captured predominantly within European football. Transfer fees circulate through European clubs. Broadcast revenues strengthen European leagues. Sponsorship follows established commercial ecosystems. Even solidarity and training compensation mechanisms, while important, do not fundamentally alter where the greatest economic value is retained.
This is not an argument against European football. Europe’s success is the product of decades of investment in institutions, governance, club development and commercial innovation.
Rather, it is an argument for Africa to build its own football economy with the same long-term ambition.
This is what I have come to describe as the African football paradox.
Africa supplies the world’s game.
The world retains the value.
That paradox becomes even more striking when we consider the costs borne by African nations in participating in the World Cup.
Qualification campaigns require significant investment. Governments often support national teams financially. Federations fund logistics, travel, accommodation and preparation camps. Public resources are committed to football because qualification carries national significance.
But how often do we ask what return that investment generates?
How much commercial value remains within African football after every World Cup? How much reaches grassroots clubs? How much strengthens domestic leagues? How many sustainable jobs are created? How much investment finds its way into football infrastructure?
Football as Infrastructure
These questions become even more important as FIFA continues expanding its competitions. More places undoubtedly create more opportunity. They also require greater investment from participating nations. If football is to become a genuine driver of development, African governments must begin evaluating World Cup participation with the same discipline they would apply to any major long-term capital commitment.
Fortunately, there are encouraging signs.
FIFA’s decision to increase financial distributions to participating associations recognises that more of football’s commercial success should reach member associations. That is a positive development.
But distribution alone is not transformation.
Money reaching national associations does not automatically strengthen football ecosystems. Without transparent governance, accountable institutions and deliberate investment strategies, increased distributions risk remaining concentrated at the top of the football pyramid. The real measure of success is whether they reach community clubs, school football, women’s football, coaches, referees and grassroots academies — the places where football’s foundations are built.
This is precisely why I believe Africa needs a different investment philosophy.
For decades, football has largely been viewed through two lenses. It has either been treated as entertainment deserving commercial sponsorship or as a social programme dependent on charitable support. Both perspectives underestimate football’s true value.
Football should instead be recognised as infrastructure.
Like roads, energy systems and digital networks, football enables activity across multiple sectors. It develops human capital, strengthens communities, creates employment, supports public health, stimulates tourism, drives technological innovation and builds social cohesion. Once governments begin viewing football through this lens, the conversation changes fundamentally. They no longer ask what FIFA or CAF might contribute. They ask how football can create lasting value for their citizens and how that value can be measured, protected and expanded.
Capital, Governance and Football’s Future
That shift — from dependence to strategy — is perhaps the greatest lesson Africa should take from this World Cup.
If further evidence were needed that football has become one of the world’s most valuable commercial assets, recent reports that FIFA is exploring the sale of minority stakes in the commercial rights of its flagship competitions provide a timely illustration. Although FIFA has since withdrawn the proposal after significant stakeholder criticism, including a threatened boycott from UEFA and dissent from within FIFA’s own ranks, the episode illustrates a broader trend. Football’s premier competitions are no longer valued solely as sporting events; they are increasingly being structured as investable assets capable of attracting global capital.
As football attracts increasingly sophisticated forms of capital, governance can no longer be treated as a compliance exercise. It becomes a strategic asset. Investors seek transparency, predictability and institutional credibility just as communities seek accountability and fairness. The debate surrounding FIFA’s latest proposal is therefore about more than ownership. It reflects a broader challenge facing football worldwide: ensuring that football’s governance evolves as rapidly as its finance.
Africa should pay close attention. If the continent is serious about building its own football economy, attracting long-term investment will require more than promising commercial opportunities. It will require governance systems capable of earning trust from governments, investors, supporters and communities alike.
If the global football economy is entering a new era of financial engineering and institutional investment, the continent cannot remain primarily a supplier of talent and consumers. It must become an owner, investor and architect within the ecosystem it helps sustain.
The global reaction also revealed a geopolitical reality: European bodies framed the issue as one of governance and institutional trust, while CAF reaffirmed its support for FIFA’s leadership, calling only for appropriate consultation. The contrast reflects the different priorities that shape football governance across regions.
For Africa, the challenge is not choosing between governance and investment. It is recognising that sustainable investment depends upon credible governance. The continent needs both. Strong institutions attract long-term capital, and long-term capital strengthens football ecosystems only when governed transparently and strategically.
That responsibility does not rest with FIFA and CAF alone. It belongs equally to African governments, football associations, clubs, investors, universities and development institutions willing to build the ecosystem together.
From Participation to Value
Sixty years after Africa boycotted the 1966 FIFA World Cup in pursuit of representation, the continent finds itself facing a different challenge. We no longer need to prove that African football belongs on the world’s biggest stage. Our players have already done that. Our supporters have already done that. Our growing influence within the game has already done that.
The challenge now is ensuring that Africa captures a fairer share of the value it helps create.
That conversation continues this October in Accra, Ghana, at the 5th Africa Football Business Summit, whose theme — “From Vision to Value: Building a Sustainable Football Economy for Africa” — could not be timelier. The Summit is built on a simple but transformative proposition: Africa’s future will not be secured by exporting more talent alone, but by building football ecosystems capable of creating, retaining and reinvesting value across the continent. It is intended as a continental platform where governments, investors, federations, clubs, researchers and development partners move beyond discussion towards practical reforms, investment and implementation.
The FIFA World Cup 2026 demonstrated that African football deserves a larger place on the pitch.
The next challenge is ensuring Africa occupies a larger place in football’s economy.
Perhaps, after every future World Cup, the question we ask should no longer be, “How did Africa perform?”
Instead, we should ask something far more consequential:
How much stronger did African football become?
That is the question that should define the next era of African football. It is also the question that will shape our discussions in Accra this October. The time has come to move beyond participation and towards value — to move beyond talent export and towards ecosystem development — and, ultimately, to recognise football not simply as a game, but as infrastructure for Africa’s future.
