I'm going to throw this out there right now: Qatar most likely bought the 2022 World Cup, appealing to FIFA's insatiable appetite for money - be it dollars, Euros, Pounds, Kruger rands, Canadian Tire coupons, or whatever.
Russia probably did the same in winning the right to host WC 2018.
I don't agree with it, and like many of you I feel strongly that something needs to be done about the rampant corruption in world soccer.
Ok, with that out of the way, and some of the dust settled/settling, let's look at the reality of the situation. Qatar and Russia are going to host the World Cup. No amount of bellyaching or frantic, angry keystroking is going to change that.
So instead, I'm going to tell you a story...
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When the announcement was made, I was at the hospital sitting in a labaratory chair, waiting for a nurse to literally draw blood from me (insert parallels to FIFA's drawing blood from countries worldwide here).
My cell phone went off in my pocket. My dad had texted me the news.
Now, putting aside the fact that my 50-something father texts like a high-schooler, what struck me most about the message was not surprise at the decision - Qatar and its grandiose bid (and accompanying oil money) was long considered a front-runner - but rather the sense of deja vu I was feeling at that exact moment.Qatar 2022 WTF....??
A few years previous, I had gotten a similar message from my dad about South Africa winning the right to host WC 2010. The context was very different though, as my South African-born father had seen his home nation's bid as a way to finally show the rest of the world that his birthplace wasn't some backwater overrun by safari wildlife and tongue-clicking, loincloth-clad natives living in huts.
To say he was excited about South Africa's impending coming out party is an understatement. He spent the next few years scouring the internet for news and commentary about SA's progress (or perceived lack thereof), time and again involving himself in online arguments with naysayers who seemingly took no measurable amount of pleasure by putting down Africa's ability to host the world's largest single sporting event.
Admittedly, the doubters even started getting to me, as well. In the lead-up to my family's voyage to the 2010 WC - how were we not going to be there? - I read more and more horror stories and projections of what a poor World Cup South Africa was going to put on.
As someone who had only been "back" (I hate that term, as I'm a born and raised Canuck) a couple of times as a child, I truly did not know what to expect in my first visit as an adult.
Of course, what had happened after all was said and done was that South Africa hosted a wonderful tournament. The thousands of visitors from around the globe were treated to top notch facilities, beautiful natural landscapes, first class transportation, and - most importantly - one of the safest, seamless World Cups ever held.
The few times I ventured about without a family member as a chaperon, I never felt unsafe or even close to it. In fact, riding the train from the suburbs of Cape Town to the downtown core reminded me a lot of doing the same from Toronto's suburbs in the first year of TFC's existence; sitting aboard a train chock full of soccer revellers looking for nothing but fun, the common bond of the beautiful game disguising any problems that may otherwise be front-and-centre.
And that's the rub. South Africa's got its problems, major problems. Everyone knows that. The World Cup was never going to fix them, not by a long shot.
What the World Cup did was show the world, and perhaps more importantly the locals, that those problems can be overcome, if even for a short time.
Maybe 2022 can do the same for Qatar, a country that many could not even locate on a map until earlier today. And perhaps 2018 can do it for Russia, a nation once seen as synonymous with communism and now seen as a haven for organized crime.
The problems are different, and the scale of resources is vastly different in Qatar's case, but the goal is the same: To show the world a different side of each country.
And so I'm left reflecting on my dad's text message this morning, thinking that perhaps somewhere in Canada a Qatari or Russian father excitedly contacted his Canadian-born son with the news that their "home" nation will finally get to strut its stuff on the world's stage.
How will the rest of the world respond?