Since 1930, more than 80 countries have participated in 23 World Cups. However, only eight won the trophy. Why are only a handful of countries so good at the sport?
The question intrigues a lot of people, and not just football fans. Xi Jinping, China’s leader, has long coveted footballing glory; the same goes for Muhammad bin Salman, crown prince of Saudi Arabia.
Success on the pitch is good politics. It can lift public spirits and improve foreigners’ perception of a country. But glory is hard to achieve.
Like many before us, the Economist tried to discover a formula for football success.
We built a simple model, based on the Elo ratings (mathematical model used to calculate a player’s relative ability) of national teams.
This measure of performance, derived from chess, takes into account the caliber of opponents and is considered a better indicator of quality than tournament results, which can be skewed by favorable seeding or inspired goalkeeping.
We then calculated how much of the difference between countries can be explained by different variables, from the strength of a country’s democratic institutions to the average height of its men.
The most influential factors, we found, were wealth, population, height and geography. Together, they account for about 70% of the variation in Elo scores. However, no single factor is decisive.
Rich countries spend more on training, facilities and youth development, but they don’t always stand out.
The United States is rich, but most of the money in American sports goes to other sports.
The Gulf monarchies are filthy rich and football crazy, yet they still underperform.
Size also matters. A larger population offers a deeper talent pool, but as China and India demonstrate, it is no guarantee of glory. Despite its populations of over a billion people, only China has qualified for the World Cup, and only one.
Size counts more laterally too. Our analysis suggests that the ideal height for non-goalkeeper players is around 1.81 m. The further away the average height of a country’s men is from this mark, the worse it tends to fare.
The most powerful variable is one that no government can influence: geography and the sporting culture it brings with it.
For example, South American teams average around 640 Elo points more than their Asian counterparts, meaning they are expected to beat them more than 90% of the time.
Even after adjusting for differences in income, population and physique, the gap only narrows to 492 points. European teams also enjoy an advantage.
These regional advantages reflect deeply rooted differences in the quality of training and intensity of competition. European leagues are a magnet for global talent, audiences and investment. The continent is home to more than 200,000 coaches, far more than any other confederation.
India has around 50 coaches with the highest level license in Asia; Spain, with less than 5% of India’s population, has more than 2,000 with the equivalent qualification.
Money widens these divisions. Wealthier confederations, such as those in Europe and South America, can invest much more in training and developing young people.
All of this makes success in football self-perpetuating.
Our analysis suggests that the best indicator of where a country ranks today is where it ranked decades ago. About four-fifths of the countries in the top quartile of the Elo table in 1976 are still there.
But as difficult as it may be to reach the leaders, it is not impossible. A handful of countries managed to climb the rankings.
THE CASE OF JAPAN
Japan is one of them. He had never reached a World Cup before 1998, but he hasn’t been out of any since.
In the most recent tournament, in Qatar, Japan defeated heavyweights such as Germany and Spain. Many consider him an underdog this time.
The improvement cannot be attributed to Japan’s economy or population, both of which have stagnated since the 1990s. Instead, Japan’s success reflects the strategy adopted by its football authorities.
In 1992, Japan overhauled its amateur league and launched a “Hundred Year Vision” with the goal of forming one hundred professional clubs by 2092. Since then, it has continually adjusted that plan, studying global tactical trends and disseminating them domestically.
This includes prescriptions for clubs, which are required to maintain youth teams, and for the types of players they are incentivized to produce.
Once celebrated mainly for their discipline and hard work, Japanese professionals today dazzle with their skill, often in major European leagues.
Crucially, Japan’s approach is bottom-up.
China, in contrast, has approached football the same way it pursues Olympic glory: through a centralized, generously funded effort to cultivate talent. It failed because football depends on improvisation, unpredictability and a deep popular base, argues sports journalist Mark Dreyer.
IMPORTED OR NATURALIZED
As successful as Japan’s methods have been, they are also slow and expensive. For many poorer countries, there is a faster path: importing talent.
For example, Senegal climbed the rankings not by developing football infrastructure at home, but by drawing on a diaspora trained in academies abroad.
Around half of the Teranga Lions’ World Cup squad are children of Senegalese migrants (mainly in France). This is similar to financing development through remittances: Senegal is reaping rewards from its labor exports.
No less than 96% of Curaçao’s squad in this tournament and 62% of Cape Verde’s were born abroad.
These selections are just extreme examples of a broader shift. Since 1994, the share of players competing for a country other than the one in which they were born has increased rapidly, from 9% in 1994 to 24% today.
There are other ways to import talent. Countries that are generally stingy with passports sometimes give them out to football players. Qatar, for example, plays several naturalized players, such as Edmilson Junior, born in Belgium.
China’s biggest star, Serginho (or Sai Erjiniao, as he is known in his adopted homeland), was born in Brazil.
Sometimes this ruse even exceeds the permissive rules adopted by FIFA, football’s governing body: last year it punished Malaysia for fielding seven players whose Malaysian roots had been falsified.
Malaysia’s desperation is an indication of the rich rewards the strategy can bring.
A study of World Cups found that teams with more foreign-born players tended to advance further, even after controlling for wealth and football tradition.
At the previous World Cup, Morocco offered even more vivid proof: it became the first African team to reach a semi-final, with a squad of 26 players of which 14 were born abroad.
The benefits of migration accrue to both the exporting and importing countries. Children of migrants to Europe often end up playing for their parents’ adopted country, not their original one.
Spain’s biggest star, Lamine Yamal, is the son of immigrants from Morocco and Equatorial Guinea.
England’s front line will feature Bukayo Saka (of Nigerian descent) and Marcus Rashford (of Caribbean descent).
The France team is almost entirely made up of children of migrants. Its cast includes Désiré Doué, whose family captures the duality of migration’s impact on football. Désiré plays for France, and his brother Guéla represents Ivory Coast.
‘ANCESTRAL DIVERSITY’
Drawing on a more diverse talent pool boosts on-field performance.
A 2023 study found that an increase in a cast’s “ancestral diversity” leads to better results.
In the deep reflection provoked by Italy’s failure to qualify for this World Cup (the only previous champion to miss out), some commentators blamed strict citizenship rules that prevented many migrants from playing for the Azzurri.
Not surprisingly, the diversity of successful football teams infuriates racists and enemies of migration. When England inevitably crash out of tournaments, it is their black players who suffer the most abuse.
A study published earlier this year found that victories by more diverse teams are followed by more favorable attitudes towards immigration, but that defeats can worsen perceptions of immigrants and increase support for the far right.
Victory or defeat is not just a matter of bragging rights.
Text of The Economisttranslated by Dante Ferrasolipublished under license. The original article, in English, can be found at www.economist.com
