Initial question: Did anyone ever think Morocco would bid to host a World Cup final phase without aiming to host the final itself?
It seems like a simple line of reasoning, but it's quite elaborate, considering the Kingdom of Morocco's growing international standing, its increasing influence within the Confederation of African Football, and the quality of infrastructure now found across Moroccan territory, from every angle of analysis.
For a long time now, Morocco has steadily gained weight and prominence among African nations, to the point where most youth-level competitions have been consistently awarded to the North African country.
And the reason, among many others easily considered by CAF, was almost basic: if no one else stepped forward, the priority was to maintain the consistency of the competitions and the calendar. Therefore, Morocco almost always answered the call.
This continued until the controversial Africa Cup of Nations final in January of this year, when Senegal ultimately defeated the Moroccan national team, following a near walk-off from the pitch very close to the ninety-minute mark.
Regardless of the final decision from the Court of Arbitration for Sport, expected next October, the Royal Moroccan Football Federation withdrew all bids and possibilities of hosting CAF competitions. This was a more than diplomatic stand, intended to show the African continent its displeasure with what transpired at the 2025 AFCON, and also served as a rallying cry, from a structural perspective, for what truly became Morocco's focus: the 2030 World Cup.
This will be the first time that three countries belonging to two confederations will host FIFA's biggest tournament. The allocation of the Centenary Games to the Uruguayan, Argentinian, and Paraguayan federations merely serves as historical recognition of one hundred years of the World Cup. It is incorrect to say that the 2030 World Cup will be hosted by six countries. It will be hosted by three, with the first three matches commemorating the competition's centenary.
That said, there are 101 matches to be divided among Spain, Portugal, and Morocco, in a truly intercontinental perspective, bringing Africa back to the international forefront twenty years later.
Indeed, we have always been of the opinion that, beyond South Africa, only Morocco and, possibly, Egypt, would have the capacity to meet FIFA's complex requirements for hosting its main quadrennial competition.
From this point on, and with the confirmation of responsibility, Portugal understands its role very well. It offers three stadiums (Luz, Alvalade, and Dragão) in two cities (Lisbon and Porto), knowing that, among the involved countries, it will always host the fewest matches. However, curiously, it also has the least structural investment to undertake, given that the stadiums are ready, and all the logistical support required for a World Cup is guaranteed in the country's two largest cities.
Spain is modernizing, aiming to present a modern and competitive face, and, above all, Morocco is stepping into the spotlight, creating excellent conditions in some cities and building unique sports structures in the world, such as the new Casablanca stadium, with a capacity of approximately 115,000 spectators.
Does anyone truly believe the Moroccan federation would have pursued the bid, even as a trio (and with enhanced chances of acceptance, due to its unprecedented bi-continental nature), if it wasn't fully convinced it would host the most important match, the 2030 World Cup final?
Therefore, I am not surprised — especially knowing the intricacies of thought and operation within African football federations — by the statements from the head of Morocco's football body, according to which the country would host the World Cup final in the new and groundbreaking Casablanca stadium.
This is a battle that, it should be emphasized, was never Portugal's. Lisbon will host one of the semi-finals at the Estádio da Luz, and this fact is not surprising. It is, in fact, one of the structuring elements of Portugal's involvement in organizing the tournament, along with the prerogative for the Portuguese national team to play almost all its matches (in an evolutionary perspective, of course) on home soil. Neglecting these two aspects would have been highly detrimental to the Portuguese component of the organization, and this has been safeguarded from the outset.
However, between Spain and Morocco, there could be an objective point of conflict, knowing, as we do, that the World Cup final is not just the icing on the competitive cake. There is much more to it, and the reconstruction of the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, beyond being an old Real Madrid project, was also a cornerstone of the Spanish bid, projecting the World Cup final into the giant arena that the Paseo de la Castellana venue transforms into when its retractable roof is closed.
Here, the geopolitics of football come into play, especially with the shifts in timing and arguments over recent months, and the unpredictability surrounding next March's FIFA presidential election.
I will write about this soon on this page, but for now, a detail: it is in Morocco that the leader of world football's largest institution for the coming years will be decided. Infantino is staking much of his prestige (what little may still remain...) and his transcontinental influence on this election. Morocco knows this. And in the chess game of world football, it strategizes and moves its pieces according to its superior interests...