The countdown is on for the 21st edition of the FIFA Club World Cup, which will take place in an entirely new format in the United States. Regardless of the current climate in the host nation—at the centre of enormous and potentially historic social developments—the new shape of the competition raises major questions about its contribution to the evolution of the global game, particularly at the top tier of club football.
It is worth pausing to reflect on the supposed innovation in the tournament’s format, as FIFA’s ongoing experiments have muddied the waters when it comes to its history and tradition. Historically, the most prominent intercontinental club competition was the Intercontinental Cup, in which the champions of Europe and South America—the two continents where football has consistently been most advanced—faced each other. This competition began in 1960 and was held annually as a clash between the two continental champions, either as two-legged ties or a single final on neutral ground, usually in Japan. This format remained in place until 2004, with Porto crowned as the final champion. The following year, FIFA replaced the Intercontinental Cup with the Club World Cup—though 2005 was, in fact, the second time the competition had been held.
The inaugural Club World Cup was held as an experiment in Brazil in January 2000, featuring eight teams from the six continental confederations. The line-up also included Real Madrid, as holders of the 1998 Intercontinental Cup, and Corinthians, champions of host nation Brazil. In a final that turned into a Brazilian derby, Corinthians beat Vasco da Gama on penalties after a goalless draw in regular and extra time.
The 2001 tournament never took place, despite having been scheduled to take place in Spain with 12 teams, due to financial difficulties. From 2005, initially with six clubs and from 2007 with seven, the competition was held annually in December in an Asian host country, except in 2013 and 2014 when it was held in Morocco. These finals consistently featured European sides, who won 16 titles and finished runners-up three times. South American teams claimed the trophy four times and reached 11 other finals. From the remaining confederations, Asian (AFC) clubs reached the final three times, African (CAF) sides twice, and a team from North and Central America (CONCACAF) once. In essence, the competition largely remained a matter between UEFA and CONMEBOL—the very confederations that had contested the Intercontinental Cup.
In 2016, however, FIFA—under the presidency of Gianni Infantino—voiced for the first time its desire to expand the tournament to 32 teams, shift it to June, and hold it every four years, replacing the Confederations Cup, which was last played in 2017. The first edition under this format was due to be held in 2021, but the pandemic made this unfeasible. Therefore, 2025 will mark the inaugural edition of the newly envisioned, far more ambitious format. At the same time, FIFA revived the Intercontinental Cup from 2024, with Real Madrid becoming the first champions of the new competition, which features the European champions facing a champion from another confederation, selected via a qualifying round.
Does the “new” FIFA Club World Cup offer anything truly new?
Looking at the history of the competition alongside its current format—with 32 teams qualifying based on sporting performance over the past four seasons in each confederation—one naturally wonders about the usefulness of such an expansive tournament and its contribution to the development of football worldwide. An obvious rationale is FIFA’s desire to integrate clubs from every corner of the globe into the elite club scene, which could aid the growth of clubs in regions not traditionally associated with footballing excellence. The competition seems designed to cater to millions of fans who support clubs far removed from where they live and who thus never become part of a genuine footballing culture—with all the consequences that has for the social footprint of the sport in any given city or country.
But is the solution really so straightforward when it comes to achieving football development in Asia, Africa, Oceania, and North America at a pace comparable to Europe’s? History suggests that the matter is rather more complex. The development of football—and what could be termed footballing excellence—has always depended on the formation and evolution of footballing networks. Encounters between teams—whether national or club sides—transmit new elements from one place to another, broaden footballing horizons, help shape footballing “schools of thought” that are validated by top-level results, and ultimately build the truly global game. This exchange of footballing ideas has taken place through friendly matches, the earliest international competitions (like the World Cup from 1930, the European Championship from 1960, and the even older Copa América), and major club tournaments such as the European Cup (Champions League) and Copa Libertadores. Countries excluded from this network of footballing exchange inevitably lose ground in terms of innovation, with England—the “mother of the game”—being the most emblematic case: its self-imposed isolation led to its decline, most starkly exposed in 1953 with Hungary’s historic triumph at Wembley.
From this perspective, one could argue that the FIFA Club World Cup seeks to address a major issue: the lack of a global footballing network at club level through which the most advanced ideas can circulate—especially now that club football has overtaken international football in terms of technical sophistication, partly because clubs have vastly more time to work with their players and develop cohesive units. But there is a catch. Qualification for the tournament is not based on a single season’s results, but on a four-year window. In club football, four years is an eternity! A club can go from continental glory to relegation in that time. Changes in coaching staff, management, even ownership can radically and quickly alter a team’s level. Conversely, innovation introduced by promising young coaches at major clubs can reach a level of “perfection” within a much shorter time—often outside the four-year cycle determining qualification. For instance, a team that reaches the Champions League semi-finals two years in a row but whose compatriots won European titles in the previous two seasons will not participate. As a result, the competition may exclude the club that is genuinely evolving and instead include one that is on the decline.
This year’s tournament, for example, features no place for clubs such as Barcelona and Liverpool—both currently at the forefront of tactical innovation and club structure—while sides like Chelsea or Juventus, in apparent decline, are included instead.
This raises a secondary question: should the tournament feature the most dynamically evolving European clubs, or is a broadly “good enough” European level sufficient to provide a competitive benchmark for clubs from the other confederations? One could argue that a theoretically weaker European contingent increases the chances for sides from outside UEFA and CONMEBOL to stand out. That’s a fair point. But the real question is whether such artificial weakening of the field for the sake of internal competitiveness ultimately devalues the tournament itself—transforming it into a glorified series of friendlies. The current ticket sales, or lack thereof, in the final days before the tournament’s start, seem to suggest exactly that.
In conclusion
The FIFA Club World Cup is, in principle, a necessary institution in the modern era—especially given that clubs are now the primary engines of footballing progress, far outpacing national teams in their ability to develop new ideas. A global club tournament should therefore be an ideal platform for the diffusion of elite footballing standards to every corner of the planet. However, for this to happen under the right conditions, FIFA must focus not merely on rigid logistical structures or uniform formats, but on criteria that ensure the genuine inclusion of footballing innovation—without which even the most commercially ambitious projects risk ending up both directionless and uninspiring.
