The sensitive part however is valuation. Internal transfers exist in a grey zone. When a group moves a player for €5 million from a smaller club to the flagship, is that the real Fair Market Value? Or a strategic number designed to strengthen the books of one team at the expense of another? Cases like Yangel Herrera and Savinho inside CFG drew attention precisely because networks have freedom independent clubs cannot match. It is the natural evolution of the old “loan army” model, what Chelsea tried years ago, but now executed globally, with more control and far less friction.
MCOs also create a structural tension between efficiency and fair competition. UEFA rules, particularly Article 5, prohibit two clubs under the same controlling entity from competing in the same European competition. But the regulation hinges on “decisive influence,” leaving loopholes that savvy ownership groups exploit. Some owners place shares into seemingly independent trusts to navigate UEFA scrutiny. The INEOS arrangement with Manchester United and OGC Nice illustrates this approach: nominally separate ownership masks operational links. Networks may voluntarily pause internal transfers or agreements to comply with UEFA conditions, even if these moves are purely administrative.
The competition dilemma remains. What happens if Girona faces Manchester City in a Champions League semifinal? Both sides may follow rules to the letter, but supporters will question the independence of decisions, the use of shared data, and whether resources are truly neutral. Even when no wrongdoing occurs, perception alone can undermine the credibility of the match.
Fans increasingly see outcomes as potentially influenced by a parent club’s priorities. Sporting integrity becomes fragile the moment supporters suspect that information, personnel, or strategic intent is shared across an MCO. MCOs have engineered unprecedented efficiency, but in doing so they place trust, the emotional foundation of competition, at risk. For the supporters, MCOs threaten the emotional core of football. Satellite clubs often lose their distinctiveness, adopting parent branding, colors, or playing styles and local identity, once the heart of fan culture, is diluted.
The feeder club mentality compounds this. Fans watch their best players siphoned to flagship teams, leaving their squads as temporary testing grounds rather than destinations for ambition. BlueCo’s acquisition of Strasbourg exemplifies this tension: supporters protested, fearing the club would become a feeder for Chelsea, even without changes to badge or colours.
Americanisation of the beautiful game further intensifies the divide. Clubs are treated as portfolio assets, optimised for synergy and profit rather than community or identity. The emotional punch is clear: when a team exists primarily to feed another, fans stop believing in upward mobility, ambition, or the possibility of genuine glory. The very logic that creates efficiency erodes the faith that makes football meaningful.
UEFA faces a delicate balancing act. They cannot ban MCOs outright without destabilising the financial ecosystem of modern football, but they are tightening rules to preserve competition integrity. Recent changes allowing clubs under the same ownership to compete in different European competitions, such as UCL and UECL, reflect a cautious compromise rather than a solution.
National associations are increasingly stepping in. Serie A, the Premier League, and other top leagues are expanding scrutiny over related-party transactions, internal transfer valuations, and ownership disclosures. These measures aim to prevent internal deals from artificially inflating financial performance or undermining competitive fairness.
The next frontier will focus less on ownership itself and more on information control. Data silos, scouting independence, and strict enforcement of true Fair Market Value (FMV) will determine whether MCOs can continue leveraging internal networks without violating competition rules. Football governance is entering an era where regulation must monitor not just who owns clubs, but how resources and intelligence flow between them.
MCOs represent the logical evolution of football economics: efficient, centralised, global, and financially sophisticated. They deliver stability, talent pipelines, and unparalleled operational scale. Yet this efficiency comes at a cost. Independence, unpredictability, and emotional connection, the foundations of fan engagement, are compromised. Matches, player development, and even league narratives are now influenced by broader corporate strategy, not purely sporting merit.
Football survives because it thrives on uncertainty and the debate over MCOs is ultimately a fight between optimisation and magic: between a sport run as a rational machine and a game that remains a theatre of surprise, emotion, passion, and contested glory.
