Why not add a third, then – one that included all the teams that weren’t big enough to qualify for the other two competitions? Why not advertise this new tournament as a way to make European football more “inclusive”, a prize that is available to teams that have been out of major finals for decades? And sure there’s a single, angry representative involved from each of Western Europe’s powerhouse leagues? And how about a long, cumbersome and deeply unattractive name?
And yet, although the Conference League as a concept seemed nothing short of silly, the kind of notion that could only be created by a coercive and self-critical bureaucracy, we are fast approaching that point. Where we have to accept the impossible: this, as it turns out, is a good idea. Its games are competitive. Its stadiums are full, or close enough. The teams involved, even those who could have been expected to see this new league as a load, are sufficiently invested in the idea of winning it.
There has been at least one angry encounter in a tunnel, a sure sign of a contest with Meaning. Countries that have had little interest for years in the final stages of Europe’s showpiece tournaments have found themselves enjoying the best kind of football: winner-take-all in the spring. Even those fans, who initially saw the Conference League as a money-grab, a consolation prize and – worst of all – a wholly artificial creation. Value is not an innate thing.
The Champions League does not by divine right carry more weight than any other tournament. It is not always to be seen as the pinnacle of the game; It was also met with such considerable skepticism that the British were initially unwilling to grace it with their presence. Nor can importance be reliably measured in pounds, dollars and euros. The Champions League is not the most important tournament as it is the most lucrative; It is the most profitable because it is the most important. Someone — maybe SoftBank, if we’re being honest — could launch a more prosperous competition at any point, but not make it any more worthwhile. No, the value is not implied.
Rather it is implemented. It is a form of cultural convention, a tacit agreement between players and coaches and officials and, in particular, between fans: We determine which tournaments matter. The convention league illustrates that axiom perfectly. The tournament is important because the people involved have considered it important. So, conversely, so does the fate of the FA Cup. Anyone who has ever spoken with an English football fan of a particular vintage will know that there was a time when the FA Cup Final was the highlight of the season. To win the cup, the myth goes, is better than winning the league because the whole country watched the cup final.
The myth is, perhaps, a touch harsh. As recently as the mid-1990s, the day of the FA Cup Final was the centerpiece of the English football calendar. For years, it was the only sport to be broadcast regularly on television. It was a more widely accessible occasion, and therefore more memorable. Legendary or not, FA Cup status has waned over the past three decades. The cup no longer matters as much as it did before, not because the competition has changed – it hasn’t – but because the circumstances surrounding it have.
The creation of the Premier League made it necessary to declare the importance of that competition at the cost of almost everything else, and after some time, the hype was autocomplete. The natural order of football shaped itself around the league. The FA Cup became an afterthought. The Premier League also introduced football as a television product; The Cup will no longer be extraordinary just because it was aired. At the same time, the growing internationalism of the sport and the advent of the Champions League made Europe a priority and a rich prize for more teams than ever before.
The FA Cup lost a bit in mayhem. This is not to say that, from the point of view of 2022, the FA Cup doesn’t matter, or that it doesn’t produce drama, romance, intrigue or glory. Competition takes place on all fronts. But its value relative to the rest of the game has been eroded, both for those involved in the game and those who watch them. The meaning of a competition is not fixed. It can rise and fall depending on our tastes. Sport – the uneasy alliance of all who play and watch football and run and love it – decides what matters.
The Europa Conference League is a useful reminder. This could easily have failed, the craze of the major European leagues – which believe everyone wants the same teams to see each other playing in different combinations over and over again – proved contagious. It’s not just because it was a good idea, it’s flourishing. That’s because we accepted it was a good idea and because we decided it mattered.
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