Beautiful game's ugly truth:FIFA's red card 'suspension'

When Folarin Balogun's name is read out before the match between the United States and Belgium in the Round of 16 of the 2026 FIFA World Cup on Monday, US time, at Lumen Field in Seattle, it might be greeted with loud boos. Not because spectators doubt his talent — he has got three goals in three matches so far — but because they doubt the process that led to his one-match red-card ban being suspended.

Football has always been forgiving when it comes to mistakes, but selective justice is another thing. FIFA's extraordinary decision to suspend Balogun's red-card ban after a reported intervention from US President Donald Trump has transformed a disciplinary controversy into an institutional embarrassment. FIFA insists it merely exercised discretion under Article 27 of its disciplinary code. Yet rules that bend due to the US president having a word in the ear of the president of football's governing body cease to look like rules; they become suggestions.

Belgium has every right to protest. It is not merely facing the US for a place in the last eight. It is facing an opponent given an exception unavailable to everyone else. The Royal Belgian Football Association's argument is simple: an automatic suspension is supposed to be automatic. If a red card can suddenly become negotiable, every future disciplinary decision becomes a political campaign rather than a legal process.

Football's greatest strength was always its promise that 90 minutes flatten hierarchy. The whistle recognized neither passport nor president. Until now. But, one telephone call appears to have achieved what appeals panels, coaches and lawyers could not. The optics are ruinous. An organization that endlessly lectures the world about protecting football from political interference has seemingly become remarkably accommodating when the interference comes from the White House.

This is not an isolated symptom. The tournament itself is beginning to look like an entertainment product optimized for business executives rather than football supporters.

Nothing demonstrates this absurdity better than the technology. The ball now contains a chip so exquisitely sensitive that a strand of hair can apparently trigger forensic reviews lasting several minutes. Every microscopic contact is analyzed with scientific obsession. Yet the same competition demonstrates extraordinary flexibility when applying its disciplinary code. Precision for pixels; elasticity for principles.

Then come the hydration breaks. Officially they exist for players' welfare. Conveniently, they also create perfectly packaged advertising windows worth millions. Football pauses not because exhausted midfielders demand it, but because broadcasters do. FIFA does.

Spare us also the FIFA president's spin that the extra ad revenue goes to the broadcasters. We weren't born yesterday. Everyone knows FIFA is also raking it in.

FIFA demands microscopic consistency from referees but offers macroscopic discretion to itself. Integrity has become disposable. Money and politics have squeezed something precious out of this World Cup: football's soul.

FIFA's inability to prevent the Iranian team from being subjected to unfair treatment and intense political pressure during this World Cup reinforced the uncomfortable impression that the organization's celebrated neutrality functions selectively. Principles seem robust when convenient and negotiable when inconvenient.

Balogun himself should not become the villain. Players accept the decisions placed before them. The real issue sits far above the dressing room.

When the Seattle crowd reacts to his name before kick-off, those boos — if they come — will not be aimed at the talented striker. They will be directed at an institution that has managed the remarkable feat of making the world's most popular sport look smaller than the politics surrounding it. That is a far more damaging own goal than any red card could ever be.

— LI YANG, CHINA DAILY