It took almost six months, a record of 26 witnesses and a 68 pages final award for the CAS to put an end to a long-delayed, continuously acrimonious and highly controversial presidential election for the Football Association of Thailand (FAT). Worawi Makudi can sit easy and safe on the throne of the FAT for his fourth consecutive term, since the CAS has dismissed the appeal filed by the other contender, Virach Chanpanich.[1]

Interestingly enough, it is one of the rare times that the CAS Appeal Division has been called to adjudicate on the fairness and regularity of the electoral process of a sports governing body. Having been established as the supreme judge of sports disputes, by reviewing the electoral process of international and national sports federations the CAS adds to its functions a role akin to the one played by a constitutional court in national legal systems. It seems that members of international and national federations increasingly see the CAS as an ultimate guardian of fairness and validity of internal electoral proceedings. Are these features - without prejudice to the CAS role as an arbitral body- the early sign of the emergence of a Constitutional Court for Sport?

The CAS as reviewer of electoral proceedings in sports governing bodies

The CAS Appeal Division jurisprudence reviewing electoral processes in sports governing bodies, albeit still at a nascent stage, has provoked vivid reactions due to its potential impact. One of the particularly significant values of retracing this case-law is found not in the outcomes of the decisions, but in the way the panels have scrutinized the electoral processes.[2]

On 27 September 2010, the CAS shaked the chess world by rendering its decision on the validity of Kirsan Illymzhinov’s candidature for the presidency of the Fédération Internationale des Echecs (FIDE).[3] Namely, the CAS proceedings were initiated by Karpov 2010 Inc. and five national federations (of France, Germany, Switzerland, Ukraine and the US) against FIDE. The claimant alleged the invalidity of the presidential ticket of Illymzhinov, who had been nominated by the Russian Chess Federation as their candidate for the FIDE presidential election. The majority of the CAS panel considered that it had jurisdiction to decide on the National Federations’ claims and proceeded with the merits. Taking into consideration the FIDE’s practice on membership requirements for candidates on a presidential ticket and its compliance with the text of FIDE Electoral Regulations, the CAS confirmed the validity of Illymzhinov’s ticket and dismissed the appeal. Had the CAS accepted the arguments of the claimant, Anatoly Karpov would have been declared new FIDE President. FIDE welcomed the award, since it sets straightforward and transparent standards for the electoral proceedings, putting, therefore, an end to what was perceived as frivolous claim against FIDE.

Three years later, the CAS was asked again to review electoral proceedings, this time involving the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI). In fact, five national federations asked the UCI Executive Board to submit to the CAS a request for interpretation of Article 51.1 of the UCI Constitution concerning the nomination of prospective candidates for office of President of UCI. The federations claimed that the language of Article 51.1, which required that any Presidential candidate be nominated by the ‘federation of the candidate’, was ambiguous: it was unclear whether the provision was allowing an individual to be nominated by any federation of which the candidate is a member or whether only a nomination from the home federation of the candidate was allowed. The UCI rejected the request to bring the case before the CAS and declared that the UCI Congress was the only competent authority to decide on issues linked to the elections. Nevertheless, it is remarkable that the parties regarded the CAS as the ultimate guardian of fair and democratic elections, which could, “provide a much-needed degree of certainty for UCI delegates in knowing that the current and future candidates standing for election are in fact eligible to do so”.

Furthermore, in September 2014, the Nigeria Football Federation’s (NFF) President, Chris Giwa, appealed FIFA’s order to vacate his post to the CAS in his last-ditch effort to hold onto the presidency and despite FIFA’s threat to suspend the NFF in the event he would stay president. The CAS dismissed his request for provisional measures on the ground that the request was without object, as FIFA decided that “two cumulative conditions mentioned in the Emergency Committee’s decision dated 3 September 2014 had been complied with and that therefore the NFF would not be finally suspended”. Indeed, at the last minute, Giwa abandoned his post and therefore the order was not valid anymore. It is noticeable again that CAS was called to be the final arbiter of a contested election.

However, it is in the Thai case that the CAS for the first time was given broad authority to review several irregularities in the electoral process. Namely, the appellant, Chanpanich, challenged the validity of the presidential election for the FAT before the CAS, alleging the existence of a plethora of procedural irregularities- starting from the adoption of the 2013 Statues of the Electoral Code - so severe as to flaw the election entirely. In addition, the appellant requested from the CAS panel to issue guidelines as to the manner in which such elections were to be held. On the basis of a specific arbitration agreement, the CAS admitted jurisdiction on the dispute and proceeded with the merits. The CAS was asked to address the following set of irregularities and breaches: the alleged interference of the FAT Secretary General (‘M.’) and of the Secretary of the Electoral Committee (‘U.’) with the electoral process; the unlawful amendment in the composition of the Electoral Appeal Committee; the violation of basic standards of procedural fairness (no proper hearing, no present parties, limited documentation) in the proceedings before the Electoral Appeal Committee; and the participation in the voting process of ineligible delegates, i.e. non-members and members of the FAT Executive Committee. In scrutinizing the electoral process, the CAS relied first on the text itself of the FAT 2013 Statutes and Electoral Code, which were adopted on the basis of FIFA’s fundamental principles of separation of powers, accountability and transparency, and under the FIFA supervision, and then on the factual evidence. On the ground of the lack of sufficient evidence in conjunction with the rules of the Electoral Code, the CAS rejected the alleged irregularities.

With regard to the CAS’s reasoning, two remarks can to be made. Firstly, although the FAT Congress acted in breach of Article 4 of the Electoral Code by allowing the members of the electoral bodies to be appointed by the candidates themselves on the basis of a mandate granted to them by the Congress and along a repartition agreed by the candidates, the CAS chose to qualify this breach as a “deviation” which should be tolerated due to ‘political reasons’.[4] Namely, the CAS panel embraced the “good intentions”[5] of the FAT Congress to pave the way to an electoral process based on consent, healing, therefore, the violation of the Electoral Code. As a result of this “deviation”, according to the CAS, the parties should accept the consequences it produced. This assessment leads to the second remark. With regard to the alleged violation of procedural fairness, the CAS recognized that the Appeal Electoral Committee had limited time to render its decision, because of the delayed previous decision of the Electoral Committee. However, since the Electoral Committee was composed by Chanpanich - pursuant to the above mentioned deal between the candidates and the Congress -, the appellant had to accept the consequences of this situation. These assessments seem at least questionable: the CAS qualifies a clear breach of the Electoral Code as “deviation”[6] and then declares that the parties are responsible for the problems provoked by this “deviation”!

It is remarkable that although the CAS has been given broad reviewing authority, it chose to stick to an ‘ostrich’ like behaviour. It refused to proceed with a true control of the conformity of the electoral process with the relevant electoral code and left the door open for more ‘behind the curtains’ irregularities, which would be based on the consent of the Congress and the candidates. Thus, it seems that the CAS is adopting a very cautious, hands-off, approach when reviewing electoral proceedings.

The emerging constitutional role of the CAS: A shift towards a sui generis function for arbitration?

From the above brief overview of the CAS jurisprudence, two major trends can be identified: the diminishing autonomy of national and international federations in deciding on their internal electoral proceedings (1) and the growing readiness of the members of sports federations to have recourse to the CAS to control the fairness of the electoral proceedings in sports governing bodies. So far, the CAS Appeal Division has ruled over the eligibility of the potential candidates for the presidential elections of sports federations as well as over the regularity, validity and procedural fairness of the electoral process itself. At this point, it has to be noticed that, apart from the sports federations’ electoral processes, the CAS has also been asked to rule on the validity of the pre-electoral practices of the candidates for the election to the IOC Athlete’s Commission.[7] By controlling as well the electoral process of the IOC Commissions the CAS adds more credentials to its function as guarantor of fair and democratic electoral proceedings in international sports.

Since its emergence in the mid-1980s, the CAS’s role as the arbitral body competent to resolve international sporting disputes arising from appeals of decisions of sports governing bodies has evolved significantly. The CAS Appeal Division has mainly played a role in disciplinary matters, in doping cases for example, or contractual disputes, as in cases concerning transfers in football. Nonetheless, it seems as if it is also about to become an important institutional player in ‘constitutional’ disputes involving the political structure of sports governing bodies. By deciding on the eligibility of the candidates, on the composition of the electoral body, or on the conformity of the electoral proceedings with the applicable electoral code and minimum standards of fairness, the CAS acts not unlike a constitutional court of the international sports world. This functional evolution appears to be the reflexive answer of the CAS to the disputes submitted to it by sports governing bodies.

The unsettled interplay between Sports Politics and the CAS: an emerging political role for the CAS?

The review of electoral proceedings can also imply a political role – from a sporting point of view - of the CAS, bringing to the surface the thorny issue of the political role of arbitrators in general. In the Thai case, the CAS in a remarkable obitur dictum declared its duty to settle “a legal dispute according to the law”, denying, thereby, any intention to enter the field of sports politics. It recognized, though, the political implications “at least from a sporting point of view” of its award on the governance of FAT.[8] The panel was clear: it did not want to address sports politics, “let alone politics tout court”[9]. The CAS insisted on its legal role “rendering unto sports the things that are sport and to courts the things that are legal”[10]. This assessment is not surprising. There is a widespread view that judges and arbitrators only apply the law, irrespective of their policy beliefs and backgrounds. This de-politicization of the arbitral process, however, masks the fact that arbitral tribunals are composed of human beings, who are consciously or not driven by non-legal factors, such as the political and sociological factors. The CAS panels do not constitute an exception. A brief look at the CAS jurisprudence demonstrates in the view of the author of this blogpost that CAS panels are more likely to adopt a pro-international sports governing bodies approach, acting very cautiously when it is called to interpret their regulations and their decisions. Similarly, the CAS is aware of the significant impact of its rulings on the governance of sports and their de facto precedential value at the international and even national levels of sports.[11] Consequently, its awards have become increasingly self-referent, leaving a small room for divergent interpretations.

However, it is the author’s opinion that the CAS, even when acting as a “neutral” arbitral tribunal reviewing the electoral processes, will inevitably grapple with the political dimensions of those decisions. Despite the declaration of the Thai panel that it would abstain from any involvement in sports politics, the Panel, as noted above, justified a breach of the Electoral Code as mandated by political reasons and particularly by the overriding goal to guarantee electoral process based on the consent of FTA’s members. This decision was not neutral: in practice the panel decided who was to be president of the FTA. This is a highly political decision and it is a duty of CAS to be aware and reflexive of its impact when opting for one legal interpretation over the other.

In overall, a modicum of sports politics does not seem totally incompatible with the CAS role. 

Conclusion

The former President of the IOC and founder of the CAS, Juan Antonio Samaranch, had a dream: he envisaged the CAS as a “kind of Hague court for the sports world”[12]. In fact, 30 years after, and despite its permanent roots in arbitration, it seems that the CAS is becoming the Supreme Court of world sport. The CAS is a legal chameleon, being one day a quasi-criminal Court and the next a constitutional one. However, its increasing tendency to scrutinize the political processes at play in sports governing bodies is probably one of its least developed, but also most intriguing functions.

It remains to be seen whether the CAS will continue to be prudent and deferent when reviewing electoral processes, or whether it has the potential to morph into a more audacious, and maybe more “political”, constitutional role.

[1] CAS 2013/A/3389, Virach Chanpanich v The Football Association of Thailand

[2] A Erbsen, ‘The Substance and Illusion of Lex Sportiva’ in I Blackshaw and others (eds) The Court of Arbitration for Sport 1984-2004 (The Hague, TMC Asser Press 2006), 441.

[3] 2010/0/2166, National Chess Federation of France et al. v.FIDE

[4] CAS 2013/A/3389 (n 1) paras 122-123

[5] Ibid, para 123.

[6] Ibid

[7] CAS 2012/A/2913 Mu-yen Chu & Chinese Taipei Olympic Committee v.

International Olympic Committee (IOC) & CAS 2012/A/2912 Koji Murofushi & Japanese Olympic Committee v. International

Olympic Committee

[8] CAS 2013/A/3389 (n1), para 115

[9] Ibid

[10] M Beloff QC, ‘Is there such a thing as Sports Law’ (2011) 33 The Circuiteer 13

[11] G Kaufmann Kohler, ‘Arbitral Precedent: Dream, Necessity or Excuse?’ (2007) 23 Arbitration International (3) 357

[12] ‘ Speech Delivered by Mr Juan Antonio Samaranch’ (1982) 176 Olympic Review 314, 317

Editor’s note: Stephen Weatherill is the Jacques Delors Professor of European Law at Oxford University. He also serves as Deputy Director for European Law in the Institute of European and Comparative Law, and is a Fellow of Somerville College. This blog appeared first on eulawanalysis.blogspot.com and is reproduced here with the agreement of the author. 

The crumbling of the ‘SuperLeague’ is a source of joy to many football fans, but the very fact that such an idea could be advanced reveals something troublingly weak about the internal governance of football in Europe – UEFA’s most of all – and about the inadequacies of legal regulation practised by the EU and/ or by states. This note explains why a SuperLeague is difficult to stop under the current pattern of legal regulation and why accordingly reform is required in order to defend the European model of sport with more muscularity.

The creature that will not die

What, again?

It is over twenty years since since ‘Project Gandalf’, a plan for a European Football League prepared by Media Partners International, was notified to the Commission (OJ 1999 C70/5). Since then football in Europe has been played with a regular rhythm in the background: the threat of a breakaway ‘SuperLeague’ driven by the richest and most successful clubs. UEFA, the sport’s governing body in Europe, has responded. Alterations made periodically to the structure of its principal and most lucrative club competition, the Champions League, have favoured the interests of the richest and most successful clubs and, in a macabre dance, those changes have typically followed those clubs’ well-briefed grumbling and plotting. And Monday 19 April 2021 was glumly anticipated by football fans as the latest reel around the fountain: UEFA, media reports confidently predicted, would further compromise the structure of its competitions in order to give the richest and most successful clubs more of what they want – more games and firmer guarantees of participation.

But Monday 19 April instead brought the ‘SuperLeague’ clattering out of its murky background as threat and into the harsh light of day as execution. A group of twelve clubs from England, Spain and Italy announced the creation of an entirely new competition which would operate beyond the authority of UEFA. The self-chosen clubs are all rich, though several groan under mountainous debts. There is no plausible world in which this dozen would count as Europe’s undisputed finest in terms of sporting merit: their status is commercially driven. The plans guarantee the long-term participation of the founding clubs, and so would remove the threat of relegation from the new SuperLeague. This is entirely alien to the orthodox model of football Leagues across Europe. And the clubs plan to have their cake and eat it. They intend to play midweek games in the brand new SuperLeague while remaining members of their national associations, and so continuing to play in the Premier League, La Liga and Serie A as well as selected national Cup competitions. But they will no longer play in UEFA’s Champions League, which will therefore be robbed of most of its richest and most successful clubs, and also Arsenal and Spurs.

And then it crumbled.

Within 48 hours of the new competition’s announcement its proponents were racing each other from West London across East Manchester and beyond to see who could put most distance between themselves and a plan which had attracted almost universal derision and dismay. No longer a League from which its founder members could not be relegated, the SuperLeague had turned into a competition from which its clubs were desperate to knock themselves out. This Italian, Spanish and English Job had been intended to cause an explosion within European football, yet they couldn’t even blow the bloody doors off.

Gleeful mockery has its short-term place. This SuperLeague is dead. But the idea behind it and the people who drove it are not. A breakaway league in European football is the creature that will not die. Now is the time to think about the inadequacies of legal regulation of sport in Europe, in order to be prepared to defend the European model of sport the next time that a plan of this disruptive type is advanced, likely with greater strategic cunning. 

Why the law is not currently adequate

UEFA was doubly offended by the SuperLeague. The traditional regulatory model of European football was cast aside. No longer would qualification on merit be the sole criterion for participation. The infusion of fresh blood ensured by the system of promotion and relegation would be stopped. UEFA oversight would be precluded. The commercial model of recent years would be gravely imperilled too. UEFA’s Champions League is a spectacular success and provides UEFA with a valuable source of income. The ‘SuperLeague’ is a huge threat.

What could UEFA do?

The key insight is that UEFA is doubly offended because UEFA has a double function. It is a regulatory body but it is also a commercial actor. It protects the structure of the sport but it also makes money out of the sport. Most governing bodies in sport began in the days of well-meaning amateurs, carrying out the task of imposing routine and order on the rules of the game and the conduct of competitions, but in recent years, largely as a result of changes to the regulatory and technological shape of the audiovisual media sector, sport has increasingly become commercially lucrative to a dazzling degree. Governing bodies have typically added these new commercially sensitive functions to their longer-standing regulatory role by an incremental process of accumulation. UEFA, like many governing bodies in sport, sets the rules of the game but it has also become highly profitable. 

This is where and why the application of legal rules to governing bodies in sport becomes awkward. No one doubts that UEFA has a legitimate role. Sport needs a regulator, to set the rules, to impose order on the calendar, to protect the welfare of players and fans, and so on. But equally no one doubts that regulatory choices have direct commercial consequences. If UEFA decides to impose sanctions on those involved in a ‘SuperLeague’ it will be able to present such steps as a means to defend the integrity of the model of sport that has long dominated European practice. But it will stand accused of seeking to promote its own commercial interest in maintaining monopoly control over the Champions League by suppressing the emergence of a new form of competition, a SuperLeague, which might generate high levels of consumer demand and which, if the restless dozen are to be believed, had already generated lucrative financial backing. Both these perspectives contain their truths – regulatory and commercial motivations inevitably overlap in the governance of sport. 

Imagine UEFA had carried through its threats to impose sanctions, which, in their most vigorous form, would have involved banning participating clubs and players from any involvement in football other than the ‘SuperLeague’ itself. To achieve that would involve action not only by UEFA but also the relevant national football associations and, to exclude players form the World Cup too, FIFA. Would EU law oppose a response of this type, designed to protect European football’s traditional structures?

The problem in short is – it is not clear.

There is nothing explicit in EU law that addresses the matter. Sport was not even mentioned in the founding Treaties until as late as 2009, and the provision then inserted, Article 165 TFEU, is programmatic rather than precise. EU secondary legislation on sport is thin and of no relevance to the matter at hand. EU sports law largely comprises the patchwork of decisions of the Court and the Commission which have, since the very first in 1974 (Case 36/74 Walrave and Koch ECLI:EU:C:1974:140), addressed the compatibility of practices in sport with the demands of EU internal market law. This concerned initially the law of free movement, applied in the famous Bosman case (Case C-415/93 ECLI:EU:C:1995:463), and latterly competition law. And it is EU competition law which provides the most obvious objection to UEFA’s desire to take action against the promoters of and participants in a ‘SuperLeague’.

It is necessary to try to sift the existing practice of the Commission and Court to try to piece together an understanding of how EU competition law would apply in these circumstances. Nothing is predetermined. This, then, is already a problem – it is impossible to predict with confidence exactly how far UEFA’s autonomy of action is constrained by EU competition law.

Let us try. The most recent decision in which EU competition law has been applied to sport is also the one that is factually closest to the case of a governing body taking action to protecting its model against third party organisers wanting to offer competing events. It is the International Skating Union decision. 

The International Skating Union decision (ISU).

In December 2017 the Commission decided that the eligibility rules of the International Skating Union (ISU) were incompatible with EU competition law, specifically Article 101 TFEU on anti-competitive bilateral and multilateral practices (AT.40208). The Commission’s Decision was upheld on appeal to the General Court, which in December 2020 approved all the key findings made by the Commission (Case T-93/18 International Skating Union v Commission EU:T:2020:610).

The core of the objections in ISU were targeted at the governing body’s treatment of skaters who chose to take part in events that were not approved by the ISU. The ISU had power conferred on it as the sole governing body in the sport recognized by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) to ban such skaters from the Olympic Games and the World Championship. The ISU was able to act, and did act, in a way that protected and promoted the events which it organized at the expense of competing suppliers. The Commission’s Decision reached the conclusion that it reserved to itself powers in a way that exceeded what was necessary for the organization of the sport and for the maintenance of its integrity. It had pursued activities in the global market for the organisation and exploitation of international speed skating events in circumstances where its regulatory function overlapped with commercial motivations. The ISU had – according to both the Commission and the General Court - a conflict of interest. By stretching its activities beyond the regulatory domain into areas which prioritised its own commercial interests at the expense of third parties in the market, the governing body had acted in an anti-competitive manner contrary to Article 101 TFEU. 

The responsible EU Commissioner Margrethe Vestager, commenting at the time on the Commission ISU decision, was eager to treat the ruling as an expression of general principle, not simply one confined to its own particular facts. She explained that where a single federation organises competitions from local to international level according to the global pyramid structure which characterises the governance of most sports, ‘the penalties these federations impose should be necessary and proportionate to achieve’ goals associated with the proper conduct of the sport, but they ‘certainly shouldn't be used to unfairly favour the federation's own commercial interests, at the expense of athletes and other organisers’. 

The ISU Decision shows that EU competition law restrains the autonomy of governing bodies in sport, but the assymetry of power between the ISU and skaters has little in common with the more balanced relationship between UEFA and the biggest football clubs. So, in the search to understand how EU competition law restrains UEFA, ISU is a clue, but not definitive.

ISU and past practice

ISU is not a one-off: this is not the only material on which we can draw to understand how EU law affects and restricts UEFA’s options in responding to the SuperLeague. A wonderful book published in 2015 bursts with relevant ideas (K. Pijetlovic, EU Sports Law and Breakaway Leagues in Football). And the structure of the ISU ruling fits comfortably into the EU’s track record in applying EU law to sport. The need for a regulator in sport is acknowledged. A game needs common rules, predictably applied and apt to secure the integrity of competition. But such activities shall not spill over beyond what is necessary for the proper organisation of the sport, and there is special suspicion of systems of governance which are structured or applied in a way that prioritises the commercial interests of the governing body in question. 

In Meca Medina and Majcen v Commission (Case C-519/04P EU:C:2006:492) the Court explained that the compatibility of rules with EU competition law cannot be assessed in the abstract. The legal assessment of practices that have the effect of restricting competition also includes examination of their objectives. The Court decided that the imposition of sanctions for violation of anti-doping rules did not necessarily constitute a forbidden restriction of competition within the meaning of (what is now) Article 101 TFEU, since they were justified by the legitimate objective of preserving healthy sport, though it added that attention would need to be paid in detail to fair procedure and proportionate sanctions. Bosman (Case C-415/93 ECLI:EU:C:1995:463 ), a free movement rather than a competition law case, similarly permits the interpretation of EU law to be informed by the sporting context in which it is applied. So, famously, the Court declared that ‘In view of the considerable social importance of sporting activities and in particular football in the Community, the aims of maintaining a balance between clubs by preserving a certain degree of equality and uncertainty as to results and of encouraging the recruitment and training of young players must be accepted as legitimate’. The Court ruled against the particular transfer system of which Bosman had fallen foul because it went too far to apply collectively enforced restraints to the contractual freedom even of players whose contracts had expired. But the Court was plainly receptive to an adjusted regime which addressed the legitimate concerns it had mapped in the ruling. The transfer system was duly amended to apply only to players whose contract has not expired, and it lives on today in that slimmed down form.

There followed Motosykletistiki Omospondia Ellados NPID v Elliniko Dimosio – commonly abbreviated to MOTOE and known as the ‘Greek motorcycling’ case (Case C-49/07 EU:C:2008:376). It was held that ELPA, a body granted legal authority under Greek law to decide whether or not to permit the staging of motorcycling competitions, had violated Article 102 TFEU by running a system in which ELPA itself was engaged in the organisation and commercial exploitation of motorcycling events. The problem was that in the circumstances ELPA had ‘an obvious advantage over its competitors’; its gatekeeping right allowed it to ‘distort competition by favouring events which it organises or those in whose organisation it participates’. 

Article 165(1) TFEU, introduced into the Treaty with effect from 2009, directs that the EU ‘shall contribute to the promotion of European sporting issues, while taking account of the specific nature of sport, its structures based on voluntary activity and its social and educational function’. But both the Court and the Commission have long been assiduous in interpreting and applying EU internal market law in a way that recognises the legitimate concerns that arise in sport. Article 165 merely codifies that contextual sensitivity. EU law has been shaped according to a model whereby sport enjoys ‘conditional autonomy’ under EU law (see S. Weatherill, Principles and Practice in EU Sports Law, 2017). Governing bodies are able to operate consistently with EU law on condition that they demonstrate why their practices are necessary for the organisation of their sport – to defend its ‘integrity’, as is asserted in ISU. It is when governing bodies reach beyond the sphere of legitimate and necessary regulation that they tend to come into conflict with EU law – for example by applying the transfer rules even to out-of-contract players or by leveraging regulatory power to enhance a position in the market at the expense of commercial rivals. 

The legitimate reach of a governing body’s regulatory power

In ISU the objection was not to the role of a governing body acting as gatekeeper, in order to impose order on a sport’s calendar: the objection was to leveraging that regulatory power to achieve commercial advantage. The problem was a conflict of interest between regulatory concerns and profit-making, and it is an endemic problem in sports governance given the rising commercial value of sport alongside a reluctance among governing bodies to establish systems which sharply separate the regulatory from the commercial sphere. 

ISU insists on review of a governing body’s regulatory choices for fear that they may generate anti-competitive consequences. But it does not assume that the supply of competitive sporting events shall become a wholly unregulated market. Neither the Commission nor the General Court in ISU objects to the notion that sports governing bodies shall be able in principle to arrange the calendar, to decide how many events should be permitted, to ensure safety standards are met, and to perform a broader gate-keeping function. The Commission went out of its way in ISU to state that protecting the integrity and good functioning of the sport is a legitimate objective pursued by a governing body and this is confirmed in the ruling of the General Court. So too Commissioner Vestager, reflecting on the Decision, insisted that ‘we're certainly not questioning the right of …federations to do their job of organising the sport’. 

The question: where to draw the line between legitimate supervision and anti-competitive conduct?

SuperLeague

Would EU law have precluded UEFA from taking steps to oppose the SuperLeague? 

It is plain that UEFA would gain commercial advantage by killing off the SuperLeague. But the exercise of regulatory power commonly has some commercial consequence – that unavoidable overlap does not take the governing body’s activities over the line. The real issue is whether the exercise of regulatory power is necessary to secure the organisation of the sport.

ISU was an extreme case. The power imbalance between ISU and the skaters was very great; and the penalties envisaged by ISU went beyond any conceivable band of proportionate response. Given the aggressive suppression of third party organisers that was involved, disclosing a clear strategy of furthering the ISU’s own commercial aspirations in staging skating competitions, there was no need for the notion of protecting the ‘integrity’ of sport to be explored in any depth. The Commission and the General Court did not trouble to do so. Meca-Medina too, though the leading case, does not help to tease out the precise boundaries of the zone of legitimate action to police the integrity of sport, because anti-doping procedures plainly fall within it.

UEFA’s position in the face of rebellion by the major football clubs would have obvious distinctions from the situations found in MOTOE and ISU, most of all that its concern to defend the integrity of its existing structures would seem to carry much more weight given that the leading football clubs possess a destructive power which the third parties in MOTOEand ISU did not. The SuperLeague was clearly designed to reduce the Champions League to a sideshow, if not to destroy it altogether. 

Two questions structure the legal inquiry. What legitimate objectives may UEFA defend? And, assuming legitimate objectives have been identified, what are the permissible limits of action designed to defend them?

Once again the problem is that these are not matters set out cleanly in any existing legal texts. But let us try.

Can UEFA adopt measures to secure the integrity of its competitions' ability to produce the one true champion: that is, can UEFA take steps to stop European football looking like boxing? I think this is plausible, and it would justify action designed to ensure that UEFA’s Champions League has a higher profile and greater appeal than any breakaway competition.

Can UEFA adopt measures to suppress a competition where access is not based on merit and/or where promotion and relegation are curtailed: that is, can UEFA take steps to stop European football looking like sports leagues in North America? I think this is also plausible, and it would justify action designed to curtail the viability of any breakaway competition.

UEFA has other plausible legitimate objectives on which it may rely in responding to the threat of a SuperLeague. Protecting the calendar to prevent player overload would belong on this list; so too would protecting the pyramid structure of governance in order to ensure that all competitions are subject to the same rules globally rather than fragmented according to which organiser is in charge; and the re-distribution of income raised at élite level throughout the structure of the sport, in order to achieve some degree of vertical solidarity, is a further relevant concern. 

If (some or all of) those are legitimate aims, then one would need also to check whether UEFA's measures are proportionate and apt to achieve the end in view. The length of any ban would  be legally relevant, so too the breadth of its scope. The harsher the penalty, the less likely it is to survive proportionality-based review - yet of course the harsher the penalty, the more effective it is likely to be. Here too a detailed context-specific analysis would be required, but one may think that sanctions imposed on clubs would be more readily shown to be necessary and therefore justified than sanctions imposed on individual players. 

The implications under competition law would not be limited to measures taken directly by UEFA. The collective sale of broadcasting and other media rights to the UEFA Champions League falls within the scope of Article 101 because it restricts supply (by individual clubs as sellers), but it is permitted on the basis that it generates sufficient economic benefits.  It remains to be seen whether the sale of rights to a SuperLeague would be treated with similar indulgence: its closed nature and the extent to which it shares the proceeds of collective selling with the game more widely might induce sceptical assessment.

A prediction? It seems to me highly plausible in principle that EU law would permit some forms of action taken by UEFA against participants in a SuperLeague which are designed to protect the legitimate interests of a governing body with overall responsibility for its sport, subject to meeting the demands of the principle of proportionality. But one needs to be fully aware that competition law, like high level sport, rarely yields a wholly confident prediction. A SuperLeague will be using it too, to argue that it is injecting fresh competition into the market for sports events and that accordingly it should be protected from sanctions. These are difficult legal arguments, for which both legislative texts and precise case law precedents are wanting.

What next?

The contempt directed at the owners of the twelve clubs involved in the breakaway has been torrential. Disdain for VAR unites football fans, but that unwelcome intrusion of technology into the frantic pace of a proper football match is a pimple alongside the wrecking ball arrogance of the SuperLeague. The protests appear to have brought the plan unveiled on Monday 19 April 2021 to its knees. The twelve clubs, it seems, will remain within the existing arrangements and play in the existing competitions. But the biggest clubs have not lost their appetite for inducing UEFA to alter the design of the Champions League to suit their interests better. And although this SuperLeague appears to be dead, the threat of the breakaway league in European football remains the creature that will not die.

The legal and regulatory framework is not adequate to meet such challenges. Consider the frantic response to the SuperLeague. UEFA needed to decide what type of sanctions it would impose, doubtless after – urgent – consultations with national associations and FIFA, and perhaps with national governments minded to legislate too. UEFA needed to seek – urgent – advice from the Commission on its view of the impact of EU competition law on proposed sanctions, even if ultimately the authoritative voice on the meaning of EU law belongs to the Court of Justice. And UEFA was already faced by – urgent – applications to national courts on behalf of the SuperLeague 12 seeking to secure orders restraining the imposition of any penalties.

On all these points the law is not clear. EU competition law does not provide a checklist of sanctions which UEFA may lawfully impose and those which go too far. EU law more generally does not regulate directly the structure of governance in European sport. Nor do national laws provide clear controls. Governing bodies in sport have been largely successful in sheltering their autonomy from legal regulation. The SuperLeague fiasco should prompt a re-think. What is UEFA’s autonomy’s worth, when it is revealed to be so vulnerable to the concerted strategies of the biggest clubs? This breakaway failed, but the creature is not dead, and the next version, more skilfully prepared, might succeed.

Re-thinking sporting autonomy

In the past UEFA, jealous of its sporting autonomy, frequently called into question the legitimacy of EU intervention. The judgment in Bosman records that UEFA had requested the Court to order a measure of inquiry under its Rules of Procedure in order to obtain fuller information on the role played by transfer fees in the financing of the game, but the Court, noting that UEFA had haplessly failed to submit this request before the close of the oral procedure, refused. Things have changed. UEFA has come to understand the strategic advantage of keeping the EU, most immediately the Commission, onside.

In 2012 a ‘Joint Statement’ by the EU Commissioner then responsible for competition law, Joaquín Almunia, and Michel Platini, then President of UEFA, declared that the ‘break even’ rule at the heart of UEFA’s system of ‘Financial Fair Play’ is based on sound economic principle and that its objectives are consistent with EU state aid policy (IP/12/264). This ‘Joint Statement’ is not legally binding and its analysis lacks depth, but its very existence demonstrates that UEFA, here also reflecting the interests of Europe’s leading football clubs, has succeeded in getting close to the Commission and securing its informal approval. This strategy of co-operation rather than confrontation also marked the reform of the transfer system after Bosman. In March 2001 the Commission declared it had formalized the matter in an exchange of letters between Mario Monti, at the time the Commissioner for Competition, and Sepp Blatter, President of FIFA (IP/01/314). Pending litigation was settled and brought to an end, and the Commission announced closure of its own investigation in June 2002 (IP/02/824). This has no formal status, and, as with FFP, one cannot exclude that a court would take a different view, but for the time being a co-operative solution prevails. Moreover the involvement of FIFA reminds that the effect of EU law is frequently not confined to EU territory alone. The economic centrality of Europe to many, if not all, sports means that in practice the need to adjust practices to comply with EU law sometimes entails that adjustment operates more widely. EU’s norms become global norms. Note too that since 2014 the Commission and UEFA have had a formal arrangement for co-operation.

For present purposes the principal point of interest is that here the governing body, UEFA, has a real and direct interest not in securing autonomy from EU law but rather in using it to defend its existing model of governance and, most of all, its premier club competition, the Champions League. Pursuit of a more intimate relationship with the EU may involve a diminution of autonomy from regulation but it may the best way for UEFA to protect its autonomy from the avaricious might of the biggest clubs. The EU is an imperfect regulator of sport – it lacks expertise, its competence is not comprehensive, and the geographical boundaries of the EU mean nothing to football. But it will be intriguing to observe whether April 2021’s eruption prompts demands for a more assertive EU, able and willing to move beyond the ad hoc application of competition law and to adopt instead a more proactive role, seeking to establish minimum standards of good governance while ruling out sporting competitions which depart from merit-based criteria for admission. It would – and should – be a chance too for the EU to insist on a more serious commitment to re-distribution of wealth within European football. The biggest clubs have induced the transformation of the Champions League into a competition in which only a small pool of clubs may aspire to reach the later stages, let alone win it, and the disproportionate benefits which attach to mere participation in it have wreaked havoc with competitive balance in smaller national leagues across Europe. UEFA needs EU backing to stop these trends, and to reverse them. This would transform the ‘European Model of Sport’ from windy rhetoric and window-dressing to something more concrete and normative.

Consider too national political processes. In the short term had there been a need to stop the SuperLeague by immediate intervention, then it is national political processes which have the power to act with the necessary speed. Legislation could forbid closed Leagues. A higher level of state intervention in sport would be another threat to UEFA’s autonomy, and would likely be accompanied by pressure to reform its governance, yet it would also provide UEFA with a further means to defend its model from the destructive power unleashed by a SuperLeague. So ‘will politics show its teeth and confer a real-sanctioned monopoly to the football pyramid … [as] a transnational public service?’ (Antoine Duval, April 19 2021). After all, tongue in cheek, ‘political interference with sports is only bad if it goes against governing bodies’ objectives’ (Borja García, April 19 2021).

Conclusion

Radical change is often generated by moments of crisis, and it could be that the prime movers behind the ‘SuperLeague’ will come to be seen as having provoked a strengthening, not a weakening, of UEFA’s regulatory and commercial profile. This, however, does depend on UEFA, the EU and national politicians seizing the moment, and acting now to reform governance. They should not assume that because the current crisis is over, business as usual will resume. The unsystematic character of EU competition law should serve to focus attention on the need for broader intervention by the EU in order to protect and improve established systems of governance. Faced by the biggest clubs’ plain disdain for matters of fundamental sporting significance in Europe such as merit-based qualification for competitions and open Leagues with promotion and relegation, UEFA may find the EU a helpful ally: so too it may find a higher level of readiness to intervene in sport at state level serves its purposes. A durable accommodation between sporting tradition and commercially-driven innovation is desperately needed, or else fans can gloomily anticipate the emergence of many more malformed creatures. The creature is not dead.

Editor's note: In the coming days we will introduce the supporters of our upcoming ISLJ Annual International Sports Law Conference 2018 (also known as #ISLJConf18). To do so, we have sent them a tailored questionnaire aimed at reflecting both their activities and their expectations for the conference. It is a good opportunity for us to thank them for their enthusiastic support and commitment to international sports law research. We are very proud to start this series of interviews with Women in Sports Law, an association launched in 2016 and which has already done so much to promote and advance the role of women in international sports law (many thanks to Despina Mavromati for kindly responding to our questions on behalf of WISLaw).

1. Can you explain to our readers what WISLaw is about?

Women In Sports Law (WISLaw, www.wislaw.co) is an international association based in Lausanne that unites more than 300 women from 50 countries specializing in sports law. It is a professional network that aims at increasing the visibility of women working in the sector, through a detailed members’ directory and various small-scale talks and events held in different countries around the world. These small-scale events give the opportunity to include everyone in the discussion and enhance the members’ network. Men from the sector and numerous arbitral institutions, conference organizers and universities have come to actively support our initiative.

2. What are the challenges and opportunities for women getting involved in international sports law?

Women used to be invisible in this sector. All-male panels were typical at conferences and nobody seemed to notice this flagrant lack of diversity. WISLaw created this much-needed platform to increase visibility through the members’ directory and through a series of small-scale events where all members, independent of their status or seniority, can attend and be speakers.

Another difficulty is that European football (soccer) is traditionally considered to be a “male-dominated” sport, despite the fact that there are so many great female football teams around the world. The same misperception applies to sports lawyers!

Last, there is a huge number of women lawyers working as in-house counsel and as sports administrators. There is a glass ceiling for many of those women, and the WISLaw annual evaluation of the participation of women in those positions attempts to target their issues and shed more light into this specific problem.

3. What are the burning issues in international sports law that you would like to see discussed at the conference?

The ISLJ Annual Conference has already set up a great lineup of topics combining academic and more practical discussions in the most recent issues in international sports law. 

4. Why did you decide to support the ISLJ Annual International Sports Law Conference?

The Asser International Sports Law Centre has promoted and supported WISLaw since the very beginning. The ISLJ Annual International Sports Law Conference was the first big conference to officially include a WISLaw lunch talk in its program, allowing thus the conference attendees to be part of a wider informal discussion on a specific topical issue and raise their questions with respect to WISLaw. Another important reason why WISLaw supports this conference is because the conference organizers are making sincere efforts to have increased diversity in the panels : this year’s ISLJ Annual International Sports Law Conference is probably the first sports law conference to come close to a full gender balance in its panels, with 40% of the speakers being women !

Editor's note: Robby Houben is a professor at the University of Antwerp, specializing in sports enterprise law and corporate law. He founded the University of Antwerp’s Football College, championing good governance in professional football. He is editor of the Research Handbook on the Law of Professional Football Clubs (Edward Elgar Publishing 2023). Siniša Petrović is a professor at the University of Zagreb, specializing in sports law and corporate law.

Mid-March, the YouTube channel The Overlap released an interview with Aleksander Čeferin, the current president of UEFA. Asked about the Super League’s court case against UEFA, Čeferin referred to it as ‘mainly symbolical’. This statement reveals a deep trust in the status quo. In this short note we assess if such trust is justified. On the basis of advocate general (AG) Szpunar’s recent opinion in a case on home grown player rules, we argue it is not. 

What is it about? On 9 March, AG Szpunar of the Court of Justice of the EU (‘CJEU’) delivered his opinion in the case of Royal Antwerp FC against the Royal Belgian Football Association (‘RBFA’) and the European Football Association UEFA. The case relates to the so-called ‘home grown players’ rule (‘HGP rule’). This rule requires clubs to include at least 8 locally trained players in the list of 25 players that make the A team. According to Szpunar, this likely amounts to an indirect nationality discrimination and, at least, to a restriction of the free movement rights of football players under Article 45 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the EU (‘TFEU’). Nevertheless, the AG considers the HGP rule valid as such, as, according to him, it serves the legitimate aims of stimulating the training of youth players and increasing the competitive balance between clubs. Only insofar as it allows that home grown players includes players trained by another club in the same league (under the UEFA HGP rule, 4 out of 8 home grown players), instead of by the club itself, the HGP rule is not suitable to achieve these aims. His recommendation to the court is, hence, to partially invalidate the HGP rule. He would likely find a (future) HGP rule requiring home grown players to be trained only at the club compatible with EU law. 

Is sport so special that it deserves special treatment? On the basis of Wouters and Meca-Medina it is widely accepted that restrictions of competition in sports can be justified if they proportionately pursue legitimate aims. Interestingly, in his assessment of the proportionality of the HGP rule, AG Szpunar seems to do Wouters away as a peculiar case. He finds ‘it difficult to deduce a general principle … according to which private entities bound by Article 45 TFEU would have a greater discretion than that of Member States in comparable situations’. Moreover, he argues, such greater discretion may be warranted in matters transcending classical economic policy, but the HGP rule has a strong economic component and is not such a matter (paras 76-78). As a result, Szpunar sees no reason ‘to afford UEFA and the RBFA a wider discretion than would be the norm for a Member State to justify a restriction of Article 45 TFEU’ (para 78). So, no specific exceptions for football that do not apply to other economic sectors! Wrong, because, at the same time, the AG allows to justify the HGP rule in view of legitimate aims, in this case youth development and competitive balance. Hence, while closing the back door for exceptional treatment of football in his assessment of proportionality, he opens the front door for such exceptional treatment as a matter of principle quite widely - without really underpinning why, nor providing evidence of why football is so special compared to let’s say universities or hospitals, who educate youngsters too, undoubtedly for the public good, and don’t enjoy such special treatment. 

But let’s assume sport is somehow special and deserves a special treatment. Does the HGP rule serve both the aim of youth development and increasing competitive balance? Probably not. It seems the aims are conflated here. Yes, the HGP rule serves the aim of encouraging the training of players (at professional football clubs that is), and arguably it makes sense to incentivize clubs to train players. But it is unlikely that this will contribute to more competitive balance between clubs. This has to do with the territorial model of football: ‘domestic’ competitions are organized along national borders. Clubs from larger countries logically have a larger talent pool to recruit young players from than clubs from smaller countries, and therefore they likely have a competitive advantage. Moreover, assuming the pool of talented young players is larger in bigger countries, it is likely that these youngsters will add sporting value to the A-team. That’s a win-win. In smaller countries, clubs will typically have a tougher job recruiting domestic top talent, simply because the pool is smaller. Adding to that is that the real top youngsters of smaller countries will probably sign their first professional player contract with a club of a top tier foreign competition, leaving only the ‘best of the rest’ for the local clubs. At the age of 16, the next Kevin De Bruyne will of course become a ‘club-trained’ local player somewhere, but not in a Belgian club. Cutting a long story short, from the perspective of fair competition, the HGP rule is not neutral and favors clubs that happen to reside in larger countries. 

Overboard with domestic borders then? That is what small Luxemburg club Swift Hespérange claims. Swift argues its free movement rights and free competition is infringed because it has to play football within the Luxembourg borders. As a result, it cannot grow and become competitive with clubs from surrounding leagues. Szpunar’s opinion provides food for thought for this case too, as he recognizes that the territorial model of football favors clubs in larger countries more than clubs in smaller countries (paras 68 and 70). His opinion therefore seems to accord with Swift’s intuition. 

How could a HGP rule become more neutral in a territorial model of football, with club football organized along domestic borders? Arguably, the rule could concentrate on the under 21 teams, and/or under 23 teams, where training actually takes place, allowing clubs to compose their A-teams with the best players, regardless of where they were trained. Talented club-trained young players will make their way to A-teams on the basis of merit. Clubs could be incentivized to field club-trained players in their A-team through increased solidarity payments from centralized earnings. Such an approach could serve both the aims of stimulating the training of players and increasing (or better: not deteriorating) the competitiveness of local clubs. 

Is this THE solution? We don’t know, and we don’t pretend to know. We raise it to illustrate a point: the importance of alternative systems to the HGP rule in the Antwerp case. AG Szpunar rightly asserts that the burden of proof to evidence that a rule is proportionate in view of legitimate aims, so that it can be upheld instead of invalidated, lies with the claimant of such exception, in the Antwerp case UEFA and the RBFA (para 61). Remarkably, the proportionality of the HGP rule is subsequently simply assumed. Moreover, alternatives brought forward by Antwerp, whereas the burden of proof lay with UEFA and the RBFA, were put aside as more restrictive, and considered not to be equally effective without much consideration (paras 79-81). Is it not more in line with logic that when the burden of proof falls upon a party, if it fails to discharge it then its claim is simply denied? More fundamentally, if rules are simply assumed to pursue legitimate objectives instead of evidenced to do so, is this not an open invitation for ‘sports washing’, the equivalent of green washing in sports? Of course, judges are not industry experts. As a result, we may not reasonably expect too much. Regulators must have leeway to make choices. But judges can and should perform oversight, assuring: i) rules are at least aiming for the target, ii) the regulator effectively considered alternatives, iii) there are good reasons for the regulator to prefer the chosen solution over another. If the questioned rule fails this test, it should be declared invalid – and the regulator should be sent back to the drawing board.[1]

So, AG Szpunar’s opinion is not perfect. Yet, it certainly puts the finger on the sore spot of football governance: double hatting and the inherent conflicts of interest that brings. In this respect, AG Szpunar’s opinion seems to provide counterweight to AG Rantos’ opinion in the European Super League (‘ESL’) case (see the subtill ‘in this respect’ in fn 39 of Szpunar’s opinion). In essence, AG Rantos argues that UEFA’s potential design errors are irrelevant, as the ESL, because of its (at the time) semi-closed set-up, should have been rejected anyway. He even asserts that open sport competitions are a constitutional principle of EU law, enshrined in Article 165 TFEU. This is a (too) far stretch, notably not repeated by AG Szpunar. Moreover, Szpunar makes UEFA’s governance deficit so much more explicit than Rantos. Because UEFA is both the regulator and monopolist of European club football, Szpunar considers that conflicts of interest are ‘bound to arise’ (in the French official version: ‘inévitable’; in Dutch: ‘onvermijdelijk’ – so: inevitable). Moreover, confronted with such conflict, he believes UEFA and domestic football regulators will have a natural reflex to let their own commercial interests prevail over the public interest (para 58). 

AG’s Szpunar’s opinion is authoritative, and probably even more than usual. Szpunar is first advocate general, and primus inter pares. His opinion will weigh in on the other football cases pending before the CJEU too, especially the ESL case and the aforementioned Swift case. As such, it could serve as a ‘canary in the coalmine’ for what is still to come later this year. Anyway, if the CJEU judges in the ESL case follow Szpunar’s assessment of UEFA’s double hatting, those who were celebrating the status quo after the Rantos opinion might be in for a scare soon.  

2023 is a year of truth for the organization of professional football. Dissatisfaction with the status quo has led to a record number of football related cases before the CJEU. These cases are heard separately, but at the same time inevitably interconnected, because they run in parallel on similar subject matters. Szpunar’s opinion makes at least clear that all cards are still on the table and the status quo might not prevail. 

Courts can only do what they are allowed to: apply the law in a given case. They can’t solve football’s governance deficit. Only politicians can ‘save football from itself’ by regulating it and by tackling policy failures exposed by professional football’s commercial explosion fueled primarily by clubs and players. Stakeholders such as clubs and players deserve a seat at the decision-making table in a governance model for pro football 2.0. For example, it is not acceptable any more for football regulators with no skin in the game to continue to congest match calendars (40 or so more matches in the 2026 World Cup !) without consulting clubs and players. Furthermore, the cleanest way to resolve conflicts of interest once and for all would be to separate UEFA’s functions - at least to ensure that adequate procedures are in place to avoid, mitigate and make transparent conflict of interests (in that order), and allowing access to public courts for judicial scrutiny. To be meaningful, such action should be taken at EU level, so as to create a level playing field for clubs across Europe and – because of the ‘Brussels’ effect – beyond.  

We are not naïve. There is no political appetite for reforming football yet. That was made clear during the ESL hearing early July 2022, where more than 20 Member States intervened in support of UEFA and the status quo. But, one, two or three critical decisions of the CJEU might inspire politicians to take action. That way, this wave of court cases may trigger a much more profound reform of the governance of the beautiful game.    

[1] In that sense AG Szpunar seems to go too far when in his answer to the court he suggests to invalidate the current HGP rule and already advises how the new rule should look – the latter is more a matter for the regulator.