Most Club World Cup games lack atmosphere – energy from the stands cannot be artificially created

New York Times

7 hours ago

Thank goodness for the third night of the Club World Cup. The punchy malevolence of Boca Juniors against Benfica and the febrile passion of Flamengo versus Esperance de Tunis gave a sleepy tournament an overdue jolt.
The quality of the football was high. The teams were evenly matched. But those games were bathed in the intensity of their crowds, too, and the feeling that every kick of the ball, every touch, and every decision made by the officials mattered.
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What a contrast to Chelsea's 2-0 win over LAFC. It was not so much the tens of thousands of empty seats that were the problem in Atlanta's Mercedes-Benz Stadium, more the mood inside. It suggested everyone had arrived by accident — as if they had taken a wrong turning and found themselves in a seat.
Los Angeles is 2,000 miles from Atlanta, so that game was never going to draw a big domestic crowd, especially not on a Monday afternoon. And while Chelsea have an international fanbase, the prohibitive cost of travelling from Europe, accentuated by this tournament's dubious importance, meant the team was never going to be supported substantially, nor in a way familiar to anyone who regularly goes to Stamford Bridge.
Paris Saint-Germain against Atletico Madrid was a better-quality game, attended by many more and on a Sunday, but that too was played in a generic atmosphere, with no chanting and no life, and with none of the sensory prompts associated with either team.
This sterility is the Club World Cup's great obstacle.
Doubtless, there are many who want to dislike it. But even those who want this to work, who are watching in good faith, are surely struggling to grasp what this actually is or why they should become invested. It's a trite remark to compare it with the experience of watching pre-season sport, but the sporadic applause and empty seats arouse that familiar conflict.
'I'm an adult now,' you invariably think, 'and surely I have better things to do?'
There are reflections to make and a philosophical question to ask: What actually is a football tournament?
From where does it draw its heart and what qualities does it need to possess if people are to truly care?
History and precedent matter, clearly, and FIFA cannot artificially provide the Club World Cup with prestige. Insisting that something is going to be 'elite' or 'iconic' does not make it so, no matter how adamant you are or how much prize money you offer.
Influencers are not an effective tool, either — or at least not in a way that can be assumed. They provide attention and visibility, but directing their audiences towards the tournament only works if they like what they then see. An influencer can ensure that a product receives a glance and a few seconds of attention. The challenge is then to hold that interest. Doing that requires a better product than the Club World Cup is currently serving.
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And that is not just about the football, which will hopefully improve as the stakes become higher, but the lack of personality on display.
If the Club World Cup was to be attractive, then football's public needed to be taken on this journey. In a literal sense, that meant making it as affordable for people to attend, ensuring that atmospheres inside these stadiums were as authentic as they could be. In the imagination of anyone who has ever considered intercontinental football on this scale, that great selling point would be the vivid cultural duel that it might be.
In fact, it could be argued that is the only essential quality. Great sport does not need great players. It does not need gleaming trophies or famous people sat on the sidelines. But what it can never be without is its sense of importance. It must be obvious to the viewer, even if they have no allegiance, that what is taking place really, really matters and typically that urgency and energy comes from the stands.
At the moment, it's not there. Ticket prices and travel difficulties are one culprit. The speed of expansion is another.
In 2023, the Club World Cup was contested by seven teams across a single host city in Saudi Arabia. Within two years, that has become 32 teams across 11 cities.
Imagine that in a business or cultural context. The restaurant that grows from one branch straight to 20. The family firm that becomes global before it's even become international. It would be befuddling and weird, in the same way that this tournament, with its quantum leap in ambition, confuses people with its nebulous dimensions.
Maybe a ten-team tournament could have worked, across two or three different cities. Perhaps there was a way of better organising who played where and when, and packing each occasion with as much power as possible. Concentrating it more locally might have engendered a community feel and created the anecdotes and memories that bring supporters back to World Cups and European Championships, and — in the process — built prestige.
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Then, expansion could have been led by demand, from 10 to 16, 24 and so on. React to demand, not 'build it and they will come'.
There is a simpler observation here about an error that stake holders often make. Football is entwined with people, and with the loyalty, the belonging and tribalism that defines fandom. That is what gives it purpose. It also means that it is always — always — a mistake to distill it down to its basic parts, the ball and the players, and just assume that it will speak for itself.
As is being shown, sport without a clear purpose has a weak voice.
(Top image: Paul Ellis/AFP via Getty Images)