Club World Cup | Paris Saint-Germain: Smooth as a Weser eel

Not only romantics who nod to the old days of Pele, Franz Beckenbauer, and Michel Platini, but also regular observers of current football events agree: professional football has been sold off to some extent to financially strong global players. Whether Manchester City, RB Leipzig, FC Valencia, or AS Roma – all of these clubs have, let's say, questionable owners. But the symbol of the current football madness is the reigning Champions League winners and French champions Paris Saint-Germain (PSG). The owner of the club from the French capital is Qatar Sports Investments, and its president is Qatari businessman Nasser Al-Khelaifi. Since taking over in 2011, the owner is said to have invested around two billion euros in the club. Superstars such as Neymar, Lionel Messi, and Kylian Mbappé have worn the PSG jersey.

When Al-Khelaifi is shown on TV celebrating in the stands at the Parc des Princes, I either get in a bad mood or feel like vomiting. The evening is usually ruined by then. Yet this man looks very well-groomed, is eloquent, and seems friendly. And yet he is a kind of anti-hero. Hero because he has given the Parisian public a string of titles and made PSG a heavyweight in the international football circus. Anti because hardly anyone begrudges him his fame. Anyone can buy success, but that doesn't mean they deserve it. Neither do Al-Khelaifi nor PSG.

Culture buffs are familiar with antiheroes primarily from the cinema, specifically from the so-called spaghetti westerns of the 1960s and 1970s. Every film fan should know, no, adore, "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," "Once Upon a Time in the West," or "A Fistful of Dollars." These are absolute classics of film history, of which any criticism is forbidden. The heroes there are truly antiheroes: They're usually scoundrels in dirty clothes, seeking revenge or chasing a few dollars, shooting at everything that moves, insidious and devious: true outsiders, in short, true underdogs.

The action usually takes place against a dusty, dilapidated backdrop, sometimes flanked by a beautiful woman who is frightened by the sight of the protagonist. The antihero of the Spaghetti Western is the antithesis of the selfless and decent man often portrayed in US Westerns. Hollywood has always had its own unique perspective on North American history, and not just in the Western genre.

So far, this series has been published: Tumb is the hope (Schalke 04) by Alfons Huckebrink Sorry, model boy (Arminia Bielefeld) by Fritz Tietz

It's impossible to associate Al-Khelaifi with the films of Sergio Leone or Sergio Corbucci. Too elegant, too well-coiffed, and above all, too slick. Like a Weser eel, the Qatari wriggles through murky, musty waters dotted with sports officials, businessmen, and politicians. The antiheroes of Italian cinema, on the other hand, constantly rubbed people the wrong way, rebelled against bourgeois norms of behavior, and even shot the bartender. Almost like the militant left.

This may be rough and off-putting at first glance, but it's also honest and sincere. And honesty is hardly a thing at PSG these days, let alone sincerity.