Blatterpocalypse Now

We might not be sitting in a Saigon hotel room or jumping in with the PBR Street Gang for a trip up the Nung River, but the news from Zurich that we were all expecting and preparing for has finally dropped: Sepp Blatter’s about to begin politicking for a fourth term as FIFA president.

Considering that he had no formal opponent in 2007, and most of his immediate rivals are currently satiated and enjoying the afterglow of the 2018 and 2022 World Cup host announcements, it seems fairly apparent that Sepp will reclaim his scepter and throne on June 1, 2011.

What does that mean for us? A steady continuation of the same questionable practices that have stained the game over the last decade. ISL collapsed amid financial impropriety in 2001, followed in 2006 by the Visa/MasterCard scandal in which Blatter tried desperately (read: illegally) to escape a long-term deal with one credit card company in order to cash in with the other.

We’ve laughed and cried over Sepp’s inane, outmoded thoughts on the game, all of them gift-wrapped in a 12-year reign that’s seen the World Cup’s popularity—and revenue generation—skyrocket to unimaginable levels. Now, with the issue of World Cup hosting fully transcended from logistical viability to the expansion of Sepp’s rose-tinted legacy, who knows what to expect from the bloated bloviator over his next four years in office.

I say it’s etched in stone because right now, it would appear that the soccer world is as aligned with Sepp as it’s ever been. His fiercest election rival in 2002, Issa Hayatou, has since become one of Blatter’s biggest allies, not that bringing a World Cup, and all its executive trappings, to Hayatou’s back yard played any role in the wrestling-esque switch from heel to face. Recent murmurs of presidential campaigns by Mohammed Bin-Hammam and Chung Mong-joon were surely eclipsed by the 2022 decision, leaving the former General Secretary of the Swiss Ice Hockey Foundation to enjoy more time in soccer’s spotlight.

So, folks, I suggest we all plan accordingly. Stockpile large amounts of intoxicants, and enough poison pens with which to etch a million furious words. We should prepare to watch his every move, study his every soundbite, and analyze every handshake, all the while dreaming of a day in which Sepp will finally shuffle on from soccer’s catbird seat to leave the backroom shenanigans to someone new.

I was serious about the intoxicants. That said, I don’t think there’s enough whisky in Ireland to numb my contempt for this man.