Kushner states regret over World Cup sell-off plan

[Direct summary of what happened]

US venture capitalist Joshua Kushner has said he regrets becoming involved in a now-abandoned plan put forward by Fifa president Gianni Infantino to sell stakes in the World Cup. Kushner told media he would not have taken part had he known how strongly the football community would react to the proposal, which Fifa has since dropped.

The admission brings fresh attention to a short-lived proposal that exposed deep sensitivities about the sport’s commercial direction, and it lands at a moment when governance at football’s global body remains under intense scrutiny.

Why It Matters

This is more than a PR hiccup for Fifa. The episode touches on three faultlines that define modern football: who owns the sport’s greatest events, how revenues are shared, and how far commercial interests can reach before fans, federations and regulators push back. The World Cup is the sport’s flagship asset; any suggestion of selling off parts of it to private money raises questions about long-term control, transparency and the balance between profit and footballing integrity.

For investors, it is a cautionary note about entering a realm where cultural and political considerations can quickly outweigh commercial logic. For national associations and fans, it underlines the fragility of public trust in Fifa’s stewardship. And for the sport as a whole, the row could influence how future revenue models are designed — or how cautious governing bodies become when courting private capital.

[Relevant background / context subtopic]

The story must be read against a backdrop of two decades of change at Fifa. Since the mid-2000s, the World Cup has evolved from a biennial mega-event to a near-constant revenue engine, with broadcast, sponsorship and licensing deals worth billions. Under Gianni Infantino, Fifa has pushed to grow revenues and expand the footprint of the game, proposing tournament enlargements and new competitions. That commercial push has generated both record income and persistent controversy over transparency and decision-making.

Selling stakes in the World Cup would have represented an escalation in that trend: instead of licensing rights on a time-limited basis, it would mean inviting external capital to take an ownership-like interest in the event’s future cash flows. That approach is not unheard of in sport — leagues and clubs have sold minority stakes to private equity, and broadcast rights are routinely securitised — but the World Cup occupies a special place. It is not a single club or league asset; it is the central organising property of a global governing body and is entwined with the status of national associations.

The backlash that prompted the plan’s withdrawal was predictable. Fans fear commodification that changes how the game is run or prioritises profit over fairness; federations worry about loss of control and unequal outcomes for smaller associations; policymakers and watchdogs are alert to anti-competitive risks and questions about accountability. Infantino’s leadership has previously been criticised for opaque decision-making by some quarters, and that context amplified suspicion when the idea became public.

There are also legal and structural obstacles. Any meaningful transfer of ownership or long-term economic rights in the World Cup would likely require the approval of Fifa’s member associations and scrutiny under competition and financial regulations in multiple jurisdictions. The commercial relationship between Fifa and national associations — including revenue distribution mechanisms — would be at the centre of any negotiations, and few members would relish a reduced role in governing the game’s flagship competition.

At a time when football’s finances are already a flashpoint — see the fallout from the attempted European Super League in 2021, which collapsed under fan and political pressure — the idea of selling slices of the World Cup looked like a provocation. The swift retreat demonstrates the limits of what even a well-connected investor can do when the football public hardens against perceived encroachments.

What Happens Next

Expect a period of damage limitation at Fifa and among any financiers who were linked to the plan. The immediate danger — a concrete change in ownership structure — has been averted, but reputational harm lingers. Fifa will need to reassure members, sponsors and partners that future commercial initiatives will be developed transparently and with proper consultation. That will probably include clearer communication about the body’s commercial strategy and more visible engagement with national associations and stakeholders.

Politically, the episode could strengthen voices pushing for greater oversight of Fifa. Calls for improved governance and more accountability at the top table of world football may gain momentum. Member associations that felt blindsided will likely demand tighter rules around major commercial proposals, and there could be renewed pressure for independent reviews or changes to internal approval processes.

For private investors, the lesson is blunt: football is not an ordinary market. Investor appetite will not disappear, but future approaches will need to be more subtle, collaborative and attuned to football’s cultural sensitivities. Deals that resemble sponsorship or time-limited commercial partnerships are likelier to pass muster than attempts to buy quasi-equity stakes in the sport’s core competitions.

Practically, the commercial model for the World Cup will remain intact for now — broadcast rights, sponsorship and hospitality revenue streams continue to be Fifa’s principal levers. But the episode could accelerate alternative thinking about long-term financial planning that avoids the headline-grabbing route of selling event stakes. For example, Fifa may explore securitised rights deals, longer-term licensing agreements with stronger governance safeguards, or partnerships focused on development and legacy rather than pure ownership.

Finally, keep an eye on whether national associations, sponsors and broadcasters choose to make public statements demanding changes. Any sustained concerted pressure from those groups could force structural reforms. If Fifa navigates the fallout badly, it risks weakening its commercial position and empowering rivals — including regional confederations — to demand a larger say in the game’s future.