Many leading politicians down the years have sought to portray an ‘everyman’ image, sometimes infamously so, given the tendency for pure fabrication when it comes to passions in popular culture or sports, like football. The game’s reach and emotional pull make it irresistible for those seeking a precious political commodity – authenticity – even when that authenticity is paper-thin.

David Cameron getting his claret and blues mixed up remains a fine example. Yet his mistaking West Ham for his supposedly beloved Aston Villa was a gaffe that overshadowed a more important message he was attempting to get across. Cameron spoke of multiple identities co-existing within one person, in defence of a multicultural Britain. It was an argument about complexity, belonging, and the ability to be more than one thing at once. A decade later, such rhetoric feels a far cry from the tone of political debate.

“English football is a success story of multiculturalism”

Gareth Southgate, in contrast, embraced this idea not as a politician but as England manager. He told a story of a modern England that is diverse yet proud of what it is and what it can become. In one speech, he spoke of how the England team “with its youth and diversity represents modern England,” framing football not as a culture war battleground but as a shared civic space. Under Southgate, football briefly felt like a unifying language rather than a rhetorical prop.

The current state of play, however, sees politicians edging into the technical areas. The current occupant of No 10 appears a genuine Gunners fanatic, comfortable in the culture of the game. Yet one of his most prominent opponents is seeking to cynically exploit the beautiful game for political capital. Nigel Farage launched Reform FC last year, selling turquoise shirts in a manner not dissimilar to Donald Trump’s red MAGA hats, blurring the line between supporter culture and political branding.

“Donald Trump… crossed more than just the white lines of the turf.”

Where these two worlds intersect is of great significance, especially as we enter a World Cup year. The FIFA 2026 World Cup draw was the most choreographed and commercialised yet, and to think that the summer will pass without further politicisation feels impossible. Football, after all, is one of the few truly global languages, where multiple identities and cultures are not just present but celebrated.

Yet for someone of Farage’s politics, to support England at this World Cup appears something of a contradiction. English football is a success story of multiculturalism. Premier League matches see fans from the UK and around the world chanting the names of players from every corner of the globe, every weekend, for nine months straight. This diversity is not incidental; it is foundational.

There is something different now about politicians seeking to take centre stage in moments of footballing success, either to capitalise on it or to overshadow the artistry of those on the pitch. Donald Trump did exactly that during Chelsea’s Club World Cup celebrations last year, and in doing so, he crossed more than just the white lines of the turf.

It is one very different thing to have social justice and equality issues addressed in football, for at its core it is a game for all, a beacon of equality. Yet, for individual politicians to use the greatest sporting spectacle on Earth to further their popularity and status is quite another, with dangerous precedent.

Gianni Infantino has already indulged the President of the United States with an inaugural FIFA Peace Prize, with the FIFA President seeking to ensure the smooth-running of the tournament. However, the extent of this indulgence may quickly frustrate supporters and professionals alike, continuing to avert the spotlight.

If 2026 follows this path, it is sure to leave a sour taste in the mouths of football fans all over the globe. The patience of the footballing world may finally be tested to breaking point.