A couple of weeks ago FIFA announced there would be no football played above an altitude of 2500 metres. After the usual big stink, they announced there would be no football played above 3000 metres.

After more barking fits from La Paz, FIFA then announced there would be no football played above 3000 metres, apart from La Paz. It shows clearly that edict and ordinance have no constructive purpose besides getting your mug on the front page and letting everyone know who the boss is. They might as well have said there would be no football played on the moon or The Dead Sea.

What is FIFA? Answer in your own words. 'Eh', 'er' and 'em' are allowed. You can even use BBC-speak; 'absolutely' and pronounce everything wrong. FIFA run the game, they are the governing body of world football. FIFA's season goes on for four years. Bit of a drag but your club games keep you shouting at the telly the rest of the time. Internationals come around like dodgy relatives, they might bring glad tidings but when you shake their hands you had better count your fingers.

'Estudiantes chased Nobby Stiles of Manchester United around the pitch until the ref diffused the situation by sending Stiles off'


Having lived on five continents I confess to bewilderment at the very idea of international games and their significance. To the unknowing, it looks like a kind of medieval dance of rat catchers or the village idiots' annual bash. In other sporting disiplines it is as much in evidence, sometimes in shocking relief. In the zen masochism of golf, the Ryder Cup has seen the US team and their followers cavort around the 18th hole like yaks around a water-hole. The times they are a-changing. But where sport is concerned, in this case football, the times they are a-changing but people are a-still the same.

In times of yore, the club football champions of Europe would play the club football champions of South America for the 'World Championship' on a two-leg, home-and-away basis. This continued until the clubs were wielded in the course of the games. No lover of the game can ever forget the Glasgow Celtic-Racing meeting in 1967. The deft turn of the ankle as Shewwy McBludgeon landed Juan Inyereyeo with a toe-poke to the wedding tackle has brightened many a campfire conversation.

The following year Estudiantes chased Nobby Stiles of Manchester United around the pitch until the ref diffused the situation by sending Stiles off. Not long after that the 'world championship' was abandoned, possibly for insurance reasons. Not long after that Bobby Moore, the England captain, was busted in Los Somewhers for having a funny accent. Or something like that. Where does FIFA come into all this? They were watching, that's where.

The two-leg gig was supplanted by the Toyota Cup. Played in Tokyo, this one game would determine who was the best of the best. This proved something of a winner. Neither team had a snowball's after a 25-hour plane trip but they gave their best. During the period when the European Cup was dominated by English clubs, another scenario unveiled itself. After the usual 500 games a season (and the 25-hour plane trip) the likes of the all-conquering Liverpool were shadows of their true finesse and power.

An exception was when Manchester United's Mark Bosnich played a game straight out of Billy The Fish and Roy Keane drove like the devil to win in 1999. Both players later fell foul of The Greatest Manager In The Cosmos, Alex Ferguson nee Yeltsin (probably for having funny accents). So what has FIFA got to do with all this? They were still watching, that's what.

Later that same year, FIFA came up with a cunning plan. One of Baldrick's best, this was the new  World Club Championship. To fully encompass the 'football experience' it would feature clubs from all corners of the world. So Milan played Makkaronie Makkareenie and Manchester United played Madbuggers FC from Yemen. Wow! as prince Willie said (reading from a cue-card). To ensure a level playing field, all games would be played in high-noon temperatures and 99 per cent humidity. This is the football experience. This is FIFA.

Power is never wasted. It just needs the players who know how to use it. How many games are watched in near-empty stadia? Why bother to play if no-one wants to see the teams? Three little words (first coined by another media master Bob Geldof) The F***in' Money!  It doesn't matter if both teams are zombies. What matters is the viewing rating. Because that's where the money is.

Yet let's not be hasty nor rush to judgement. Could you run FIFA? Serious! It's a one-man-band gig. You are alone. It's like you're the Pope only your punters actually like what you're selling them. You're top man. You are alone. Have you ever seen anyone besides Sepp Blatter? Sure, the faceless gnomes come out for press briefs about popcorn sales but only the top man carries both the power and the can. Can you run an operation covering all time zones and currencies? Can you juggle climates and blood-pressure profiles to make all feel part of the football experience? Can you do all this and look like you give a monkeys?

Let's consider this on a smaller scale. Suspend disbelief for a moment. Forget FIFA. Let's say you have just become Prime Minister of the UK. To give a human face to this, let's say you are also a charisma black-spot. You make undertakers look like Tommy Cooper. To this we add that for all your ying-yang blatther about global warming some of your global neighbours would like to introduce you to your ancestors. You can't blame Tonto, who just left because he gave you the job that you connived for him in the first place. You are alone. Just like Sepp Blatter.  Still think you can run FIFA? Only a cunning plan can save the day. This is where FIFA prove themselves the best of the best. Cunning planners or planning, they show the way.

You're the PM, you finally arrive on the big stage and suddenly it's raining rocks. Here's what you do. Start by asking yourself what do the people want. The latest figures on inflation? Baseline commodity futures? Don't be daft. As Caeser said: people want bread and circus. But better you avoid football for now. England are still working on kicking the ball straight and anyway you're a glum sweaty. So think Olympics. It's sport ain't it!? The opiate of the masses big-time. What you are about to do will steal the headlines and plaudits in such a fashion that even hardened hacks will salute your genius. In one fell swoop you guarentee the Olympics and solve the urban transport and street crime and diffuse the feared re-appearance of the old Cold War! Wow! How?

So what, you ask, has any of this got to do with FIFA? Simple. After your success with the Olympics people will expect you to cure England's problem with kicking the ball straight. Like Paris Hilton you know nothing about football. Perfect. Better still, you know nothing about anything. But you know how to run things, like who the shareholders are. Wonderful!

So football lovers should never feel all is lost. There is more to life than winning. There's the spirit of the game, the sporting ethos, the part of each of us that is part of all of us. There's the FIFA & Global Poverty Conference in Monte Carlo! You can make a difference! And here's the money.