FOOTBALL, FINANCE AND THE MYTH OF THE LUCKY BREAK

The World Cup brings an excitement to me, undeemed since my first world cup in 1982. Unlike now when we are looking to put the GOAT (Greatest of all time) debate to rest, the star of that world cup for me was the football -- the Tango Espana.

For months or was it years after, that ball, whose design was a break from the alternating black and white pentagons of a previous Adidas balls, was enough to ensure everybody was your best friend if you owned one.

True that was the World Cup that served as Paolo Rossi’s redemption, announced Diego Maradona – he was red carded in his last match against Brazil when he planted his studs in Brazilian Batista’s groin and Cameroon’s unbeaten run at their debut. But the Tango was it for me.

As I have grown older I have added another layer to my appreciation for the biggest sporting event in the world – the business of football.

Every four years the World Cup reminds us that football is not just 22 men chasing a ball. It is organisation, money, logistics, culture, psychology and national ambition compressed into 90 minutes.

The 2026 edition makes the point even louder. For the first time, the tournament is being hosted by three countries — the United States, Mexico and Canada — with 48 teams playing 104 matches across 16 cities. FIFA expects the tournament cycle to generate about US$11 billion (approximately Shs40 trillion) in revenue, making it the richest World Cup in history. Broadcasting rights alone will generate more than US$4 billion, while ticketing, hospitality and sponsorships are expected to contribute several billion more.

That is not merely a football tournament. It is a global business enterprise.

To host a World Cup, you need airports, roads, hotels, stadiums, security, television infrastructure, immigration systems, medical support, volunteers and the capacity to move hundreds of thousands of people across cities without the whole thing collapsing. Hosting a World Cup is a feat.

Qualifying for one is also a feat.

There are no flukes.

A country may get one lucky goal. It may benefit from one refereeing decision. It may have one golden generation. But to arrive at the World Cup requires years of youth development, coaching, administration, player welfare, medical support, competitive exposure and the ability to manage pressure over a long qualifying campaign.

That is why some of the most interesting teams to watch this year are not necessarily the traditional giants. Japan, Norway and Morocco may not all win the tournament, but they demonstrate the point that football success is built long before the first whistle.

Japan is perhaps the clearest example. Three decades ago, Japanese football was still finding its place in the global game. Then came the J-League in 1993, professionalisation, academies, coaching structures and a deliberate national football philosophy. Today, Japan is no longer treated as a tourist at the World Cup. Its players are scattered across Europe’s top leagues. Its teams are technically brave, tactically disciplined and psychologically unfazed by the big names. That is not luck. That is a 30-year plan paying dividends.

Norway tells a slightly different story. For years, it produced talented players but lacked the depth and system to consistently trouble the biggest nations. Over the last decade, however, Norwegian players have broken into world-class leagues in numbers and with impact. Erling Haaland and Martin Ødegaard are the obvious poster boys, but the real story is not just two stars. It is a system that has improved talent identification, coaching and pathways from domestic football into Europe’s elite game.

Morocco may be the most fascinating of the three. Its 2022 semi-final run was treated by many as a miracle. It was not. It was the result of infrastructure, federation strategy, diaspora scouting and national ambition. The Mohammed VI Football Academy and Morocco’s deliberate courting of players of Moroccan descent abroad have given the Atlas Lions a depth that many African countries envy.

This year Morocco has pushed that idea even further. It has reportedly become the first national team to field a side whose players were all born outside the country they represent. Some may frown at that. But diaspora talent is still national capital.

This is the lesson for Uganda.

We want qualification without the boring work of pitches, academies, nutrition, school competitions, transparent federation finances, local league marketing, coaching certification and player development pathways. We want the final whistle without the 20-year pipeline.

The World Cup punishes that thinking.

More importantly, it exposes the difference between administrators who are custodians and those who are consumers. The Japanese football administrators who professionalised the J-League in the early 1990s knew they would probably never enjoy the full fruits of their work. The architects of Morocco’s football renaissance knew the biggest rewards would come years after they had left office. They planted trees whose shade would be enjoyed by future generations.

That is the mentality Uganda’s football administrators have too often lacked.

As long as football leadership is viewed primarily as an opportunity to line pockets rather than build institutions, Ugandan football will remain trapped in mediocrity. A football nation is not built in a four-year cycle. It is built over decades. It requires leaders willing to invest in systems whose rewards they may never personally enjoy.

Uganda’s World Cup dream will not be born in one qualification campaign, one foreign coach or one talented generation. It will be born in schools, academies, district leagues, better coaching, proper pitches, credible administration and a sports economy that rewards excellence.

The uncomfortable truth is that we do not lack talent. We lack systems. Talent occasionally wins matches. Systems consistently qualify for World Cups.

There are no flukes. Not in football. Not in development. And certainly not at the World Cup. The scoreboard eventually catches up with the quality of the system behind it.