FIFA released bid evaluations on the nine countries vying for the 2018 and 2022 World Cups this morning. In addition to information on stadiums and projected number of tickets available, each report assessed the bidding nations on their ability to host an event the scale of the World Cup and assigned a risk level; the previously reported US summary put FIFA's risk at "medium." Below are the reports for each of the nations competing with the US for the 2022 tournament, plus a chart with key information on all bids.

FIFA's ethics committee addressed the recent vote-selling scandal publicly yesterday, announcing that the two executive members caught on tape by The Sunday Times offering to sell their votes, Amos Adamu of Nigeria and Reynald Temarii of Tahiti, are provisionally suspended pending a further investigation.  A final hearing will take place next month.

In separate moves no doubt related to one another, the United States has dropped its 2018 World Cup bid while England have done the same for 2022.  The implication here is that by choosing to bow out of the consideration for 2018, the US got something in return; Sunil Gulati has been adamant in recent weeks that the Americans would only limit themselves to one bid if it brought an advantage.  With this news coming down today, we can assume that something has been promised to the US bid organizers.

FIFA, that impregnable bastion of ethical behavior and good-faith dealings has a warning for those nations bidding for the 2018 and 2022 World Cups: don't do any deals you sneaky bastards.


Good for FIFA, laying down the law and nipping any backroom vote-trading in the bud.  The World Cup bidding process is a serious endeavor that deserves the respect of the nations involved; vote-trading is unseemly, illegal, and unfair to those nations that should be granted a World Cup on the merits of their bid, and the merits of their bid alone.

The USA World Cup bid has a lot going for it.  Stadiums in abundance.  Infrastructure up to the task.  The capacity to make enough money that even FIFA should drool at the possibilities.  Aside from that pesky "just hosted in 1994" problem, there are no holes in the American bid.  If FIFA chooses to go in another direction, it won't be because the United States isn't the best place to hold the 2022 World Cup. (Warning: lots of images below)

The USA is bidding for the 2018 or 2022 World Cups, the two tournaments up for grabs this December. The FIFA inspection team is set to arrive next week to tour the proposed facilities, and though there's a sense the American bid has little chance of getting the 2018 tourney, the committee has yet to remove themselves from consideration.

Among those nations bidding for the 2018 or 2022 World Cup, England is by far the highest profile; because the country is the place where the game of soccer was born, because the names involved are well known and the domestic league is richest in the world, and because politics are predictably omnipresent, the English have a large lead in World Cup bid intrigue heading into 2010.


There are others bidding, of course, though the prevailing wisdom is that England will really have to fall flat to miss out on 2018. The last time the tournament took place on English soil was 1966, so long ago that only four of eight the stadiums used that year still exist; that is particularly noteworthy in history-rich England, where the typical football ground is ancient by any practical measure. With two World Cups up for grabs in December 2010, and England boasting new venues, buckets of money, and soccer's premier (no pun intended) club competition, it makes logical sense that FIFA would choose to place the World Cup there.


But there's at least a small amount of dissent on the inevitability of England's 2018 hosting, and it doesn't help the the bid has been fraught with problems from the outset. From in-fighting amongst the bid's leaders to whispers that additional funding depended on the resignation of chairman Lord Triesman as well as the controversial inclusion of Milton Keynes in the list of host city finalists, issue after issue continues to crop up for the FA. Things appear to be in order for the moment, but with potential damage done and the always fickle nature of FIFA largesse, to say that England in 2018 is a slam dunk would be naive.


It's Russia that would likely stand to gain should England fail, and there's a chance it could jump up and grab the 2018 tourney even despite a strong English bid. The game is on the rise in the world's largest country, with Russian Premier League clubs making Champions League inroads, Russian stars exploding in the English Premier League, and the government intent on showing the world that Russia is emerging as a complete sporting culture. Vladimir Putin's interest in the bid is keen; for a nation often lumped in with other former Soviet republics and whose perceived ability to host suffers due to issues Poland and the Ukraine are having heading towards Euro 2012, the World Cup is a crown jewel to be obtained at almost any cost. Russia has hired the services of an American marketing firm, the same firm responsible for the bid that landed the Russian city of Sochi the 2014 Winter Olympics.


FIFA is notorious for using the World Cup to open or enhance new and emerging markets, and Russia would fit nicely into that trend. It happened with the United States in 1994, Japan and South Korea in 2002, and to a point, will happen with South Africa in 2010. These are countries where soccer's profile is often secondary to other sporting passions, and for whom the World Cup does wonders. Russia's sheer size, massive population, rapidly improving league, and global leadership role make it an intriguing candidate for FIFA's next grand experiment.


Russia's is also the bid setting the pace. While England was still finalizing their host city list and the Unites States was still soliciting petition signatures for various candidates, Russia was submitting their formal bid agreement. Whether that provides them any advantage with FIFA's selection committee is impossible to know, though it certainly makes clear the nation's ultra-serious intentions to win a bid.


Russia's focus is on 2018, and their candidacy 2022 would be invalidated if another European nation wins the bid for the first of the two tournaments.


Let us not forget that other bids sure to receive votes exist as well, specifically the joint effort by Iberian neighbors Spain and Portugal. Joint bids have alternately been accepted and frowned upon, but have been approved for this round of World Cup hosting determinations.




Perhaps none of that has any bearing on the US bid, though. The American committee, while technically bidding for either 2018 and 2022, is focusing most of their energy on the latter year. The trap of buying into "prevailing wisdom" (already referenced once in this piece) is an easy one to fall into and the US effort cannot afford to do so; assumptions of a European 2018 World Cup are easy to make, but shouldn't dictate how the US goes about constructing their bid package. Even if the United States hosting the tournament in 2022 makes sense financially (high-capacity stadiums and a track record of record tickets sales being the two most compelling factors), the unpredictability of the process and the politics involved mean that there's a strong chance someone else could jump up and grab the tournament that so many simply assume will come to America.


Both Australia and Qatar fit the "emerging markets" criteria, and while the Australians are committed to pushing for 2018 (Qatar is bidding only for 2022), each represents a challenge to another American World Cup. Unlike the US, neither has hosted the tournament before, and each is located in a part of the world that would see its first World Cup. Qatar's bid is especially intriguing because of the country's location in the Middle East and the wealth it possesses; even a shortage of acceptable stadiums and the searing heat of the region during June and July might not be an impediment if that wealth is brought to bear on new facility construction. As a bid hoping to promote regional (Arab) unity and serve a larger purpose by fostering better relations between the Arab and western worlds, the Qataris are impossible to dismiss.


Australia has stadiums, a burgeoning league in many ways similar to Major League Soccer, and tradition of passionate sporting support. What they may not have is the cooperation of the country's other major football codes, with authorities in charge both Australian rules football (AFL) and rugby (NRL) voicing concerns over stadium conflicts certain to occur should the country win its bid. A united front, as the US seems to have (thanks in part to the NFL being out of season during the summer) gives the American bid a leg up on their Aussie counterparts, but the Australian dissent won't be a deal breaker for FIFA if Australia represents the best possible showcase for their marquee event and will help the game take strides in a part of the world still somewhat resistant to the tide of soccer.


Unlikely as it may seem, it's important to keep in mind that if a shock winner emerges for 2018, the bidding for 2022 will be altered significantly. Should a non-European nation secure the first of the two tournaments, the bids of Russia, England, Spain and Portugal, and Belgium and the Netherlands (another joint bid) remain in play; FIFA skipping over Europe for twenty-two years between Germany 2006 and 2022 is unimaginable, and would leave the United States without any chance of winning.


Odds makers have England strong favorite to win the 2018 bid. Conventional wisdom (that pesky thing again) has the United States in line to be second time hosts in 2022. Only FIFA's unpredictable executive committee knows for sure which way the winds blow, and even then, those winds are ever-changing. What seems like a foregone conclusion today may be shockingly tossed aside come December of 2010.

Lucas Oil Stadium
When the United States Soccer Federation put out its list of possible World Cup venues to be included in the 2018/2022 bids, seventy different stadiums made the cut.

Immediately thereafter, my soccer-specific newsreader became flooded with stories from around the country about each specific venue and their inclusion. I ignored those items for the most part, as each represented local interests and local pride and really added nothing to the overall story. Despite the thrill of being originally included, only a fraction of those seventy stadiums would actually have a chance to host World Cup matches. The list was really just an effort on the part of the USSF to illustrate to FIFA how truly staggering the options are in this country; no other nation in the world can boast so many 70,000+ venues to showcase the beautiful game.

Today, the news is that fifty-eight of those seventy venues responded to USSF expressing their interest in hosting World Cup matches.

Perhaps it's the day I'm having, or a general restlessness brought on by other news floating around the interweb (MLS Board of Governors meetings, attendance issues, etc.), but I'm feeling a little cynical about the "impressive response" that the USSF is so pleased about.

Those fifty-eight positive responses represent forty-nine metropolitan markets, so says the USSF, and three markets not even included in the original list (because they don't currently possess adequate stadia) have also come forward.

Think about that fact for just a moment. Forty-nine metropolitan areas. Forty-nine cities, represented by stadium facility managers, Chamber of Commerce presidents, city managers or whoever else might be responsible for responding positively, all anxious to bring the world's game to their hometowns. And why might that be, exactly? Should we believe that each of those forty-nine cities and their powers-that-be are jumping on board the soccer bandwagon because they recognize the worth of the game?

Of course not.

And that, in a nutshell is why I'm just a tad bitter about the news.

Each of those original seventy venues received correspondence from Chicago asking if they would like to be considered to host World Cup competition. While twelve politely declined (which is fairly staggering when you think about it; twelve stadiums decided the world's biggest sporting event just wasn't their cup of tea), fifty-eight reacted with something that probably went just a little bit like this:

"The World Cup, huh? I don't know a damn thing about soccer, but that sounds like a money-maker right there!"

Hence, my frustration. Forty-nine cities (okay, I'm admittedly generalizing) where soccer can't get a sniff otherwise have jumped up, shouting "ME! ME! ME!" with their hands brazenly out, because the World Cup means gobs of cash for their coffers.

That should make any soccer fan just a little testy.

Talk me off the ledge people. Tell me how I'm wrong, how this is a good thing, and how it illustrates that some kind of progress is being made. Tell me that each of those forty-nine cities believes that soccer has a future in the United States, and are not just trying to suckle at the teat of the beautiful game.