I don’t mean to talk about the World Cup to start two consecutive pieces, but perhaps the thing that bothered me the second-most throughout the tournament (with the first being the bits and bobs of corruption occurring in plain sight courtesy of Gianni Infantino and the United States government) had to do with Erling Haaland. Over the course of the competition, the Norwegian forward became an internet sensation. People who only really pay attention to football every four years, who therefore were unfamiliar with the best striker on the planet, discovered Haaland for the first time. And being the odd but entertaining fellow he is, he earned the adoration of the online masses.
In hindsight, it made almost too much sense. The initial package of a giant Nordic man who wore his hair like a modern-day Viking and sported the face of a school bully in a Pixar film, while simultaneously being monstrously good at the most popular sport on earth, was already quite intriguing. But then Haaland spent his summer in America trying on cowboy boots, quietly boasting an exquisite collection of luxury bags, and buying taxidermized animals. He left rather random one-worded retorts in the comments section of videos about him and has now recreated an originally AI-generated video in which he is startled by his own reflection while eating (with the help of Mr. Beast, of course). On the pitch, he was one of the top scorers at the World Cup and helped lead Viking row celebrations with thousands of Norway fans after victories.
Long story short, he proved to be the perfect combination of goofy and ruthless, of weird and hyper-competent, that always attracts a devoted following.
And I couldn’t help but respect that. Who doesn’t love an athlete who shows a bit of personality? Especially at a time when more and more footballers are properly trained to handle media and well-advised regarding public relations, and therefore are increasingly professional but also a little boring.
However, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy as I watched people in my own personal orbit rave about how endearing they found Haaland. Not because of any focused animus toward him (although as an Arsenal fan he has frustrated the hell out of me on countless occasions), but because he is now the foremost ambassador for Manchester City Football Club. And developing a fondness for such a figurehead can very quickly lead to supporting the team they play for. Just as Thierry Henry was the gateway player for so many Arsenal fans today, I worried City might suddenly win over a generation of new fans.
For someone who’s just getting into football, who isn’t quite ready for the emotional demands of devoted fandom, City are an attractive proposition. To an outsider they are a club that wins, competing for every trophy year in and year out. Until recently they had the best manager in the world and typically boast some of the globe’s finest footballers, players that get nominated for and could even win the Ballon d’Or. Being a City fan is an invitation to live on Easy Street.
But as many of us have known for years and as has now been confirmed, it’s all built on lies.
On Friday, The Athletic’s David Ornstein reported that City — eight years after German outlet Der Spiegel published leaked incriminating financial documents and more than three years after the Premier League originally brought 115 charges of financial impropriety — have finally been found guilty of 114 of those allegations. Sure, City will appeal that verdict and attempt to use all manner of influence and coercion to steer fate back in their favor. But at this point, a reversal of the judgment seems unlikely. At long last it will begin to dawn on City, just as it did on that glorious night at the Vitality Stadium back in May, that they are doomed.
For what has transpired is now essentially verified to be as follows: after being purchased in 2008 by Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan and the Abu Dhabi United Group, City began systematically circumventing financial rules. They funneled unsanctioned funds into the club, effectively using inflated sponsorships by state-owned companies to launder Sheikh Mansour’s money so it could be used for sporting purposes. That bogus revenue was then used to acquire the best talent money could buy, often paying them what they could on the books and fabricating consulting gigs or other temporary employment with affiliated organizations to provide another salary under the table.
When both the Premier League and the UEFA came sniffing around, City obfuscated the truth and refused to cooperate. They hindered investigations and delayed proceedings, kicking the can so far down the road that many of the players who helped bring their first waves of success are now retired. They cynically wielded xenophobia against figures in the sport who dared to speak out and they pressured journalists to avoid reporting on their internal affairs.
During the period of time to which these charges apply, between the 2009/10 and 2017/18 seasons, City benefited immensely from this subterfuge. They won the Premier League three times, the FA Cup once, the league cup thrice, and the Community Shield once. They notched the highest number of points in a single Premier League campaign, finishing with 100 of them in the 2017/18 season. But what’s worse, they established a foundation from which they could maintain dominance.
Allowed to succeed so rampantly, City were accepted by the footballing world as legitimate. Pep Guardiola, one of the best managers in the world, took the helm and with almost any player he wanted at his disposal turned the club into a great tactical experiment, the residual effects of which we will witness and analyze and exalt for years to come. A club that I once heard Martin Tyler describe as the “doormat of the Premier League” in a FIFA video game became a destination for its finest talents. Everyone wanted their share of guaranteed silverware.
This extended to City’s academy as well. The blue half of Manchester enticed youth players from all over the country to join up, and I can only imagine how the club sweetened the deal when needed. Even this past summer, they plucked prospects from Hale End and paid a silly amount of fees to beat Arsenal to Jeremy Monga’s signature. In the meantime they’ve profited heavily from the sales of Cole Palmer, Liam Delap, James McAtee, Roméo Lavia, Oscar Bobb, James Trafford, and others. Phil Foden, Rico Lewis, and Nico O’Reilly are among those who have contributed to the first team.
With that legitimacy and more reliable revenue from academy sales and additional sponsors, City platformed themselves to further dominate the English game. Since the 2017/18 season, Guardiola’s men achieved a further five Premier League titles, three FA Cups, four EFL Cups, two Community Shields, and their first Champions League title. They claimed a treble in the 2023/24 season while also becoming the first side to ever win the Premier League four consecutive times. What they achieved during the Guardiola era, propelled from a platform of ill-gotten gains, was unprecedented.
Many are understandably turning their attention to what the resulting sanctions and punishments will entail for the current leaders in the Premier League. But I find myself reflecting on what the confirmation of these misdeeds means for the rest of us, for the other clubs in the English top flight, for the sport as a whole. And I cannot help but be filled with sadness.
I think of players whose career trajectories have been forever changed by what City have done, whose paths were altered thanks to the impact Sheikh Mansour’s club had on the football landscape. I think of players who have been robbed of greater legacies than they now have, who had to step onto pitches and compete against City and ultimately were bested by a collection of players that never should have existed. I even think of players like Rodri, who now must reckon with the fact that their own accomplishments are forever tainted through no fault of their own. And I think of players who have only recently joined City, who were probably assured that everything was fine and that these charges were all part of a sinister witch hunt, who now are likely asking their agents what happens next.
I think of managers who have lost jobs because of City. I think of managers whose ideas perhaps should have had a more lasting impact on football, but were continually outmatched by the brute force of ADUG’s near-limitless resources. I think of managers who are well-established legends of the game, but deserved even more than they achieved because parts of their tenures were spent contending with a state-owned footballing superpower.
I think of Arsène Wenger, forced to slink away chagrinned at the bitter end of the most successful managerial tenure in Arsenal history. He kept the Gunners competitive, challenging for the title regularly and in the Champions League for 20 consecutive seasons, through relocation to a new stadium paid for out of the club’s pockets, as the price of players continued to climb after Sheikh Mansour’s arrival in England. Even as more clubs around him forsake their integrity, Le Professeur maintained his honor and worked with what he had.
But it quickly became clear that doing things the right way would not bear fruit. He watched on as Emmanuel Adebayor, Kolo Touré, Samir Nasri, Gaël Clichy, and Bacary Sagna all departed to wear that sky blue shirt. The French manager was mocked for pointing out the rise of sportswashing in elite football. It felt like something had been killed when City strolled to a 3-0 win over Arsenal in the 2018 EFL Cup final and sure enough, Wenger was gone three months later.
I think of Jürgen Klopp, who arrived at an adrift Liverpool and transformed it into one of the finest sides the continent had ever witnessed. The German instilled a consistent heavy-metal footballing philosophy, elevated great players to the very peaks of their powers, and rebuilt the harmony between fans and the club. Under his stewardship Anfield became a cathedral for football and hosted some of the greatest successes of its history. Klopp’s tenure earned Liverpool a Premier League title, a Champions League triumph, an FA Cup, two EFL Cups, and a Community Shield.
But it could and probably should have been more. In the 2018/19 season, Liverpool achieved a staggering 97 points in the Premier League, losing only one match out of 38. In all but one season — the one that immediately preceded this one — such a tally would have been more than enough to secure the crown. But City, fresh off of their Centurions campaign, beat them by a single point. Liverpool would then achieve 99 points and a rightful league title the following season, only to then lose out to City by one point again in 2020/21 (this time with 92 points). At the conclusion of the 2023/24 season, an exhausted Klopp called time as the club’s manager and departed to become Red Bull’s Head of Global Soccer.
I think of other clubs who have been influenced by what has transpired. I think of Chelsea, whose years under the ownership of Putin-affiliated Roman Abramovich opened the door for what Mansour and company have done. I think of teams like Newcastle and Aston Villa, who have been encouraged enough by the lack of consequences for City to try their own hands at beating the system. I think of teams like Everton and Nottingham Forest, who have breached financial rules recently and been sanctioned for it. I think of teams further down the football pyramid, in the bottom half of the Premier League, in the Championship, and below, who have struggled more and more as the staggering expenditure of City and others has trickled down to their rung of the ladder.
I think of the fans. Fans who have traveled up and down England and across oceans to follow their clubs. Fans who have urged their teams on week in and week out, from near and afar, and expended time and emotional energy they’ll never get back, for the wins and the glory to go to a team who never deserved it while the rest of us are left with emotional scars and voids in our hearts that won’t be filled by retroactive awarding of titles. Fans who fell in love with English football because of its graft and toughness, only to feel that love fade away as one club were allowed to unfairly sap the Premier League of its competitiveness, as they realized that the story of triumphant parity broadcasters had fed them was largely a fiction. Fans who supported City before all this and had to manage the emotional conflict that came with cheating their way to silverware.
I think of last summer, when City paid £116 million — a record for an English player — to acquire Elliot Anderson from Forest. I think of how Anderson was and still is a good player, but not the ready-to-compete stalwart that such an exorbitant fee used to get you. I think of how City’s involvement forced Arsenal to pay £105 million — the previous English transfer record — for such a pivotal footballer in Declan Rice (turns out, we got him half price), and how the Anderson move ultimately led to Arsenal missing out on Morgan Rogers, whom Chelsea acquired for £117 million — the current English transfer record — in the latest window. I think of how the sudden resulting inflation in the market spelled difficulty for the likes of Liverpool and Manchester United, and probably Tottenham Hotspur after they mortgaged their future to spend massive sums on multiple players who just aren’t worth that kind of money. I think of how City, unbothered by the disaster they had created, then spent another £210 million on Ayyoub Bouaddi and Enzo Fernández to complete the most expensive midfield ever assembled.
I think of how last season Arsenal were constantly derided by football fans and media, essentially branded cheaters for the crime of being historically good at scoring from corners and occasionally taking a few extra seconds to perform a throw-in. I think of how, even now, you are guaranteed to hear a chorus of “same old Arsenal, always cheating!” whenever a player in red and white gets back up after being kicked to the ground. I think of how social media timelines have become awash with rival fans begging City to “save football” now that Mikel Arteta’s men appear capable of establishing their own dynasty.
I think of how Michael Oliver and other PGMOL (or “Pro Ref”, if you prefer empty rebrands) officials refereed matches in the UAE Pro League at the end of 2023, and how they were paid tens of thousands of pounds to do so by the Abu Dhabi National Oil Company, which is connected to City’s owners. I think of how Darren England, one of those moonlighting referees, made a drastic error as the VAR official 48 hours after working a game in the UAE Pro League to disallow a Luis Díaz goal as Liverpool lost to Spurs. I think of how Oliver has given more red cards to Arsenal than anyone else. I think of how City have consistently benefitted from “50-50” calls in the league, including a goal against United two weekends ago that should have been offside and the most blatant handball in the box you’ll see from Anderson last week.
I think of how despite all this Arsenal finally won the Premier League again last season, 22 years after Wenger led a legendary side to finish undefeated after 38 games. I think of how the Gunners executed a long-term plan step by step, making many smart decisions over year while slowly rebuilding their leverage in the market, while a truly gifted young gaffer maximized his resources on the pitch. I think, gratefully, of how the legacy of this manager and these players will not be confined to resentful “what ifs” because of their unfortunate co-existence with a sportswashing enterprise.
I think of how City are absolutely not the be-all and end-all of the scourge of unencumbered wealth in football. I think of other nation-state-backed clubs like Paris Saint-Germain, who have bullied Ligue 1 into submission and now won consecutive Champions League titles. I think of multi-club models like City Football Group and BlueCo that make the likes of Girona and RC Strasbourg subservient to overlords from England, their own fates secondary to incubating talent until those footballers can play for a bigger team. I think of how when you peel back the layers of sponsorships and owners’ affiliations, almost everyone is at least a little bit tainted. I think of how Pandora’s box has opened and will never be closed.
Even with all this in mind, I think of what I haven’t thought of yet, of what could come out in the wash as this story continues to unfold. We are at the outset of a great unraveling of a convoluted web of injustice, and every ravaged carcass that falls at our feet in the process will induce a new pang of despair. This is just the tip of the iceberg; between now and the true end of this particular mess, we will likely discover a bevy of truths that remind us how sport really is just a reflection of the real world.
What I do know is this: Sheikh Mansour, Khaldoon Al Mubarak, and many others in the current Manchester City apparatus have stolen from us. They have robbed us all of joy, of more dancing in the streets, of more sheer limbs in the stadium, of more parades in May. They have rendered 15 years of Premier League history practically null and void. They have taken this thing that millions of us get up early for and give our money to and spend almost all of our days thinking about and made it a little more meaningless.
And they have done so in a way that cannot be remedied. We can’t get that time back. We can’t sit down and hash out which title goes to who, and then retroactively celebrate those imagined outcomes. It is now dust in the wind, dark matter floating in the impossible ether. All to serve their egos, with a little bit of geopolitical leverage on the side.
I don’t think I can ever forgive that.
Naturally, I believe it is incumbent upon the Premier League to throw the book at City. I want every title they won during the period encompassing the charges to be unceremoniously stripped. I want them to unleash unexampled fines and a complete transfer ban spanning several years. I want a points deduction that gives them the faintest hope of survival but ultimately sentences them to a relegation that will be celebrated like silverware by the majority of their rivals. As the cherry on top, I want the Premier League to give carte blanche to Arsenal, Liverpool, United, and Spurs to then go full _John Wick_ on City, to lure these violators of a sacred oath to a court(yard in the dead of night) and exact a death penalty on the guilty party — and by this I mean suing City for everything they’ve got, for the true financial damage they’ve inflicted is incalculable, until they are forced to liquidate. And if they somehow survive all that, Sheikh Mansour and all affiliated parties must be removed as owners of the club.
I know there are more considered approaches that can be taken here. The points deductions can be spread across multiple seasons so as to incentivize them to participate in good faith. Their ownership can be kept intact in order to keep things cordial with the UAE. But frankly, I want maximum carnage wreaked upon City. They have defrauded us for significant parts of our lifetimes without remorse. To leave them intact would be an invitation for them and others to do the same.
I want to be a much older man before City are ostensibly ever able to compete for the highest honors again. And I want the path on which they are forced to crawl to that point to be littered with broken glass and salt. Because this is the gravest mockery of the English game we have ever experienced. An example must be made of them, and the Premier League face an existential crisis if they fail to do so.
Some may worry about what City’s effective extrication might mean for the Premier League. Honestly, I’m not as concerned. We are already seeing reports of sponsors looking for the exits. Their fanbase is one that struggles to fill stadiums for matches and single city blocks for parades. In the meantime, Arsenal drew crowds of over a million people in north London last spring while Liverpool’s title celebrations are also immense. The Premier League is not short on huge fanbases.
Ultimately, this is a moment I and countless others have wished for for years. It’s annoying that we will likely have to wait a while longer for the consequences to be announced and then to take effect. But I’m confident when they finally do, when the league I love so much is rid of the brazen cheaters in its history, the English game will be better for it. And for those who want to keep supporting Haaland, take solace — he will probably be on the first plane to Madrid as soon as he can.
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