The three legs and Messi

The Club World Cup has begun with a tribute to Messi, an indispensable player in a plot that represents the ambitions of three characters—Gianni Infantino, Donald Trump, and Bin Salman—connected by the use of sport as an instrument of greed and power. Inter Miami, the Argentine star's team, did not meet the requirements to participate in the competition, except for the nod from FIFA President Gianni Infantino. Without Messi, a key player in football on and off the field, the tournament was worth much less, so Inter Miami received the appropriate invitation to participate.

A climate of extreme tension in the United States dominated the opening match. Hours earlier, an assassin shot and killed a Democratic senator in Minnesota. In Washington, Donald Trump presided over a lavish military parade that, in real terms, essentially honored Caesar's birthday. At the same time, nearly 2,000 demonstrations swept across the country in protest against the president's totalitarian drift. In Miami, the venue for the match, ICE—the federal agency in charge of immigration enforcement—warned that fans without US citizenship were required to carry all their identification, or risk being detained and deported.

The World Cup is twisting the calendar to the point of suffocation, supported by Saudi Arabian money.

Alienated, as is often the case in football, from the reality surrounding it, the match speaks volumes about a competition that twists the calendar to the point of suffocation, sustained by an avalanche of money from Saudi Arabia. It is beginning to impose on football the same model it chose to dominate the world of golf. It created the LIV, a Saudi-led substitute for the previously unbeatable PGA Tour, the American professional golf circuit, bought a good portion of the world's best players—Spaniard Jon Rahm received $550 million—and sparked a civil war that continues to this day. Along the way, the Saudi model found invaluable support from Donald Trump, owner of some of the most exclusive courses in North America and Europe.

It's an alliance now being replicated in the Club World Cup, a tournament conceived by Gianni Infantino, a professional cynic and lackey of Trump and Prince Bin Salman, heir to the Saudi throne and, de facto, the country's highest authority. He makes no secret of the pleasure he takes in his docile and frequent appearances with both of them. Infantino adores dictators, oligarchs, and megalomaniacs.

Infantino drags his heels, but he's cunning. He has ideas. The main one is to destroy UEFA's immense influence and its favorite competition: the Champions League . He approved the anti-UEFA strategy in the creation of the Super League—Florentino Pérez invoked its name and its protection at a previous Real Madrid meeting—and distanced himself from the failure with his characteristic cynicism. His obsession remains. Infantino governs the World Cup, the biggest event in professional sports, but he's little more than a frustrated spectator of the lavish business that is the Champions League. If this first edition is successful, UEFA has reason to tremble. In sports, what is organized every four years can be held every two years, and if necessary, annually.

Less than a year ago, the Club World Cup held little or no interest, but Infantino found the right help at the right time. Saudi Arabia bought a significant stake in DAZN and invested $1 billion in the World Cup. Money, broadcasting the matches, and a hug from Saudi Arabia. In 2032, it will host the World Cup. Infantino and Bin Salman's ambitions are mirrored in Trump. The Club World Cup is the appetizer for the World Cup for national teams (2026) and the Olympic Games (2028). His fraternal connection with Infantino helps him in a game that turns sport into a lucrative political issue. Just in case, Trump has already announced the Patriot Games will be held next year. It will have a youthful focus, exclusively for high school athletes. The glorifying aroma it gives off is reeking.