Could Infantino really push through a 64-team World Cup?

Gianni Infantino’s tenure at FIFA has been defined by expansion—more tournaments, more games, more revenue. Now, the 64-team World Cup is back on the table, and the question isn’t whether it’s possible, but whether it’s wise.

How a centenary tournament became a battleground

The 2030 World Cup marks a century since the first edition in Uruguay, and the host trio of Morocco, Portugal, and Spain will share the stage with three additional centenary hosts: Uruguay, Argentina, and Paraguay. But it’s not just nostalgia driving the conversation. South America’s governing body, Conmebol, has pushed aggressively for a one-off 64-team format to accommodate an expanded schedule, arguing it would ensure “nobody on the planet is left out of the party.”

Infantino has echoed this sentiment, framing the move as a chance for smaller nations to participate. Yet the logic is flawed. Teams like Cape Verde, Curaçao, Jordan, and Uzbekistan have already qualified for major tournaments the traditional way—by being good enough. The real motivation appears to be commercial: more teams mean more matches, more broadcast revenue, and a longer tournament window to sell to sponsors.

Who stands in the way—and why it might not matter

The opposition is loud but fragmented. UEFA president Aleksander Ceferin has dismissed the idea as a “bad idea” for both the tournament and the qualifying process. Victor Montagliani of Concacaf warned it would damage “the broader football ecosystem,” while AFC president Sheikh Salman bin Ibrahim Al Khalifa cautioned it could bring “chaos.” Yet FIFA’s 37-member council holds the final say, and history suggests Infantino’s vision often prevails.

The format itself offers a compelling argument. A 64-team tournament would eliminate the need for third-placed teams to advance, streamlining the knockout stages. Two teams from each of 16 groups would progress directly, creating a cleaner path to the Round of 32. But the trade-off is clear: dilution of quality. The World Cup’s prestige relies on elite competition, not participation trophies.

The commercial calculus behind the chaos

FIFA’s revenue model thrives on scale. The expanded Club World Cup proved that more games mean more money, even if the football suffers. A 64-team World Cup would stretch the tournament to nearly two months, testing player fitness and fan patience. Yet Infantino’s rhetoric frames it as a humanitarian effort—giving “smaller countries a chance.” The irony is that the best way to grow the game is through development, not artificial inflation.

Conmebol’s push for 64 teams is the clearest sign yet that the debate isn’t about football, but about FIFA’s bottom line. The confederation’s request for a one-off tournament to mark the centenary is a Trojan horse: once the precedent is set, permanent expansion becomes inevitable. And if FIFA’s past is any indication, resistance will be steamrolled in the name of progress.

For now, the World Cup remains a 32-team spectacle. But if Infantino gets his way, the tournament’s soul could be the next casualty of football’s unchecked commercialism.