Lionel Messi’s Inter Miami play in Saturday’s opener but people still look blank when asked about Fifa’s $1bn event
F
ire up the marching band. Rouse the majorettes from their state of indifference. Put out more flags. Put out some flags. Put out a flag. Er … is anyone actually there? IShowSpeed? Can you hear me Pitbull? Welcome to the almost-World Cup, an almost-real almost-event that will perhaps, with a favourable wind, now begin to feel like almost-football.
This week Gianni Infantino described Fifa’s regeared tournament as football’s Big Bang, referencing the moment of ignition from which all the matter in the universe was dispersed out of a previously cold and indifferent void. And to be fair, Infantino was half-right. So far we have the void.
America, we have been repeatedly told, is ready for this, primed and hungry for Fifa’s billion-dollar event. The evidence on the ground is: maybe. But not in a way that you’d actually notice. Instead, as the Club World Cup builds towards Saturday’s opening night, Lionel Messi’s Inter Miami versus Al Ahly at the Hard Rock Stadium, this is a tournament that exists at the fringe of America’s densely packed attention economy, an ambient drawl of half-heard voices, noises through the wall.
