Gianni Infantino was asked whether he had considered resigning over the World Cup sell-off debacle, and he laughed. Not a nervous laugh. It was the laugh of a man who has been told the building is on fire and has decided to check the thermostat. Then he announced that he enjoys the backing of the “vast majority,” a figure that will come as a surprise to the vast majority.
Consider the evidence. The room was reportedly full of people shouting at him, and the only person clapping was the man himself, who has been clapping for the better part of a decade without pausing for water. Majority support, in Infantino’s arithmetic, appears to mean anyone who has not yet left the building.
He came prepared with a metaphor, too. Pressed on the pressure, he suggested he is like a football: everybody kicks him, and he keeps bouncing back. It is an unusual self-portrait for the man who runs the game, because a football has no say in where it ends up. Nobody in the stands would call that leadership, but it is an excellent description of how the ball feels in a car park five-a-side match.
Governance in sport has rarely been easier to diagram. The people who run the game say they answer to the people who love it. The people who love it boo. The people in charge conclude that booing is a form of engagement. Somewhere, a committee is drafting a statement about a “healthy conversation.” Keep bouncing, Gianni. Somebody has to.