Clive Tyldesley has seen enough of those seemingly compulsory close-up shots of Gianni Infantino in the Qatar stands. The delusional FIFA president has won.
It’s the close-up of Gianni that gets me. Every time. I could almost buy into his alluring Arabian Nights if it wasn’t for that recurring image of his easy sense of entitlement. In those few crass, comedic seconds of obligatory TV recognition, you can nearly see his compulsory clause being inserted into the broadcast contract and hear the voice of David Conn explaining the grubby deal in the next Netflix documentary. There is Sig Infantino fiddling on his phone while football burns.
If you are still outraged by the staging of a World Cup in Qatar, blame him not the Emir. And then ask yourself if you played a part in letting it happen. Qatar is its own little world and we don’t have to live in it. Or we don’t have to until it is chosen to host the most important event in our professional lives. And if you agree that the World Cup should be rotated around the globe then who knows, maybe Doha is as good a place as any to stage the Arab version. Maybe.
Maybe FIFA should have looked for an alternative the moment the first body bag arrived in Pakistan; maybe we should have all insisted they did. I applaud the journalists who keep reminding us of the real price paid for the majesty of the Qatari stadiums but the words must make empty reading for the bereaved families thousands of miles away and the truth is that most of us who covered the tournament have conveniently moved on to who partners Harry up front.
The fact that most of those stadiums will be downsized or dismantled once the credits have rolled is the defining one. The Lego version of the 974 Stadium will presumably be this year’s ungettable Christmas present. The stadium itself is just a load of blocks assembled snugly and temporarily together. It’s make-believe.
Qatar is merely a stage; the World Cup is simply a show. This is only the next stop on the tour. The real world can be seen wildly celebrating goals in cut-away camera shots from fan parks in Sydney, Tokyo and London. But in downtown Doha the mood is managed and massaged by the sheer civilised comfort of this World Cup.
I’m not going to lie – I enjoyed it for that. You inevitably base your judgment of a production on what you see from the best seat in the house. Every match volunteer and hotel employee I encountered was warm and welcoming but I didn’t get to go…
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