In Argentina, football is more than just a sport; it's a battleground for power and economic interests involving sums we can't even imagine. Recently, social media has exploded with criticism against Claudio 'Chiqui' Tapia and the leadership of the AFA (Argentine Football Association). In this game of interests, the AFA—with all its historical shadows—is portrayed as the problem, while the same groups that promoted failed privatizations in other sectors of the country appear as the 'saviors.' Today's dispute is less about sports and more of a political and media operation. Amid a wave of privatizations pushed by the national government, football—one of the last mass refuges where people find belonging—has become a target. Tapia, despite winning a World Cup under his management, is seen as a major obstacle to remove. The conflict isn't about refereeing decisions. Teams that played in lower divisions just a few years now qualify for international tournaments, compete at the top, and accumulate bizarre refereeing calls. But those familiar with history know the AFA's bureaucracy, like so many in Argentina, has always wielded power its own way. Football reflects social moods, expresses anger, and creates uncertainty. The 'trickle-down' discourse has reappeared in a football-related context. It is here that 'errors,' 'robberies,' and 'scandals' start to serve a bigger purpose: paving the way for the privatization of clubs. Suddenly, voices that were previously silent are emerging: 'we need to allow private investment,' 'why should members decide,' 'companies could modernize Argentine football.' This offensive coincides with the advance of economic and social extraction: from the plunder of natural resources enabled by the Bases Law and agreements with the US, to the capture of football as a coveted business for large capitals. Is the campaign calling Tapia a thief? It's a campaign aimed at eroding the AFA and its current leadership to open the door for Sports Public Limited Companies. In the stands, a common-sense narrative is played out. Football's social influence has turned it into a massive political springboard. Scandals over promotions, relegations, fast-tracked qualifications, and controversial prizes are nothing new. What's new is the political context. There is no doubt. It was so in the Grondona era and it is so today with Tapia. The criticisms are repeated: 'fiascos,' 'frauds,' 'inexplicable benefits.'
