The World Cup reaches the semi-final stage. FIFA got exactly what they want at this stage of the tournament. They supposedly want even more when it comes to the 2030 edition. Gaming the system or changing the game? Issue 115. Go.

The 2026 World Cup has not even reached its conclusion and yet thoughts are already turning towards the next edition. Not because of who might lift the trophy in 2030, but because of how many teams could be taking part in it.

Fresh reports suggest FIFA president Gianni Infantino is open to assessing an expansion of the tournament from 48 teams to 64. A proposal that, on the face of it, sounds almost impossible to comprehend when you consider football's biggest competition has only just grown from 32 nations.

For nearly three decades, the World Cup found its sweet spot. Thirty-two teams offered enough diversity without diluting quality, while also creating a straightforward tournament structure that fans understood. Then came the jump to 48 teams for 2026 and now, before a ball has even been kicked in that expanded format, another leap is already being discussed.

The obvious question is why.

Officially, it is about inclusion. More nations qualifying means more players, more supporters and more countries experiencing football's biggest stage. For confederations outside Europe and South America, another 16 places would undoubtedly be welcomed.

For decades, African and Asian nations have argued that qualification has been disproportionately difficult compared to their European counterparts. An expanded tournament goes some way to correcting that imbalance and there is genuine merit in ensuring the World Cup better reflects football's global footprint.

There is even a compelling argument from a tournament perspective.

Sixty-four teams creates a cleaner format than 48. Instead of awkward calculations involving the best third-placed teams, every group winner and runner-up could progress into a traditional knockout bracket. It is a structure supporters already understand from countless other competitions.

Sometimes simplicity is the best solution.

The problem is that simplicity on paper often creates complexity everywhere else.

The 2030 World Cup already requires six host nations. Spain, Portugal and Morocco will stage the bulk of the tournament, while Uruguay, Argentina and Paraguay host commemorative opening fixtures as FIFA celebrates the competition's centenary.

Even with South America's involvement limited to three matches, staging a 48-team World Cup already requires an unprecedented logistical exercise spread across multiple continents.

So what happens when another 16 teams arrive?

Does the World Cup eventually become too large for a single nation? Too large for two nations? Too large for three?

Expansion might increase inclusivity for those playing in the tournament but simultaneously reduce inclusivity for those capable of hosting it.

Only a handful of countries or multi-nation partnerships would ever possess the infrastructure required to stage a competition of that magnitude. Ironically, making the World Cup more accessible for participants risks making it less accessible for hosts.

Then there is qualification itself.

The biggest beneficiaries would almost certainly be nations outside Europe. More places for Africa, Asia and CONCACAF would be difficult to argue against, especially considering football's continued global growth.

South America, however, is a different conversation entirely.

CONMEBOL currently consists of just ten member nations and already receives six automatic qualification places for 2026. That means well over half of the confederation reaches the finals before a ball is kicked.

Offering further automatic representation beyond that point would border on the ludicrous.

Eventually qualification ceases to become qualification at all.

Football's greatest tournament has always balanced exclusivity with aspiration. Expand too far and one begins to undermine the other.

While FIFA debates inviting more nations to the World Cup, another conversation has quietly developed around the tournament itself.

The route to the final.

Before a ball was kicked in North America, FIFA's seeding system ensured the tournament's four highest-ranked nations occupied separate quarters of the draw.

Fast forward to the semi-finals and those same four seeds remain standing.

On one hand, that represents success.

Supporters are now rewarded with two heavyweight semi-finals rather than watching the tournament eliminate its biggest attractions before the closing stages. From a commercial perspective, broadcasters, sponsors and FIFA itself could hardly have asked for a stronger outcome.

The biggest teams remain. The biggest stars remain. The biggest audiences remain.

Yet there is another way of looking at it.

Has the system simply worked exactly as designed?

Seeding exists for a reason. It rewards previous achievement and prevents football's strongest nations from eliminating each other too early. Few would argue against that principle.

At the same time, if the tournament's architecture consistently protects its biggest attractions until the final weekend, does it begin to remove some of the jeopardy that makes knockout football so compelling?

World Cups are remembered because of their shocks.

Because defending champions fall, outsiders emerge and football refuses to follow the script.

A competition that increasingly resembles the expected outcome rather than the unexpected one risks losing part of what has always made it special.

Perhaps that explains why reports suggesting UEFA could field a presidential challenger against Gianni Infantino have gathered momentum.

Not because European football necessarily opposes expansion itself, but because concerns continue to grow over FIFA's direction of travel.

The problem for UEFA is political rather than sporting.

Europe remains football's strongest confederation on the pitch but it controls only around a quarter of FIFA's voting membership. Winning football matches does not automatically translate into winning elections.

In fact, expanding the World Cup could strengthen Infantino's position rather than weaken it.

If more nations qualify, more associations benefit from FIFA's flagship competition. More federations have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo and supporting the administration responsible for delivering it.

Football's biggest tournament has always been about more than football.

Every expansion, every hosting decision and every structural change carries political consequences far beyond the pitch.

Which leaves one unavoidable question.

Is the World Cup becoming bigger because the game needs it to be?

Or because FIFA does?

The Real Football Filter is now 115 issues old. That's more than a year of publishing twice a week and, if nothing else, I'm proud that I've stuck with it.

What I have noticed recently, though, is that growth has slowed. That's probably partly down to the summer schedule.

The World Cup dominates the football conversation and finding fresh angles every few days isn't always straightforward.

So I'd like to ask for a favour.

If you've enjoyed reading the Real Football Filter at any time over the past year, share it with one person who you think would appreciate football viewed through a different lens.

Word of mouth has always been the biggest driver of this newsletter and it would genuinely help as we build towards another Premier League season.

I'd also love to hear from you.

What do you enjoy most?

What do you skip?

What would you like to see more (or less) of?

One thing I've missed recently is the conversation.

Newsletters shouldn't feel like shouting into an empty room and I'd much rather The Real Football Filter became something readers help shape than something I simply send twice a week.

Just hit reply and tell me what you think.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Dan