Szymański's model against the backdrop of European reality – clubs, training, commercialization
Stefan Szymański, professor of sports economics and co-author of the widely discussed book Soccernomics, has been analyzing the weaknesses and paradoxes of European football for years. He is known for his rather liberal, market-oriented approach, which often contrasts with the rhetoric of football activists. Szymański has often pointed out that many regulations in football (such as Financial Fair Play or transfer restrictions) are in fact tools to protect the position of big clubs under the guise of "balance" or "solidarity." He also pointed out that European football is already highly commercialized and unequal—the rich usually win anyway—so attempts to artificially curb the market are often ineffective and sometimes harmful. In the context of post-crisis (post-Super League) discussions, Szymański proposed a bolder opening of football to the principles of competition. However, his approach has been criticized for underestimating certain community values, such as investment in local youth or the need to redistribute funds to keep the sport alive at lower levels.
Let's take a look at the issues of youth training and the transfer market, because this is where Szymański's vision clashes with the traditional European approach. Currently, Europe has a system in which a club training a young player counts on two main benefits: either the player will strengthen its first team (in terms of sport), or he will be sold for a significant amount (in terms of finance). For many clubs, especially medium-sized and smaller ones, the transfer of their young players is essential for their survival. For example, in 2023, AEK Athens sold young striker Orkun Köksü to Benfica for several million euros, which saved its budget; in Poland, clubs such as Lech Poznań and Legia Warsaw regularly boost their budgets by selling talented players abroad. This system is sometimes referred to as an element of market solidarity: money flows from rich clubs buying players to less affluent academies that discover and train those players. However, Szymański points out that this mechanism is narrow and random. According to research cited in a report for the European Commission, only 1.84% of transfer fees go to clubs as so-called solidarity fees for training (according to FIFA rules). And even if you add the direct profits from the sale of players, most of the transfer money still circulates among the biggest clubs in the top leagues. Clubs from lower leagues or less affluent countries get crumbs – if they happen to nurture a gem. Szymański argues that relying on the transfer lottery is a poor model for financing training. He emphasizes that talent development is, to a certain extent, a matter of chance – a few clubs “hit the jackpot” by selling a teenager for tens of millions, while most will never see such a windfall, even though they also invest in academies. Such a system can lead to frustration and a reluctance to invest: why spend hundreds of thousands of euros a year on an academy when the chance of hitting the jackpot is slim? Szymański therefore suggests that solidarity should not be based solely on transfers – it should take more systematic forms (e.g., solidarity funds distributed more evenly). From a purely economic efficiency point of view, paying huge sums for individual talents is a waste – it would be better if these funds were used for training in general.
However, there is a counterargument here: in the current model, it works – because we see clubs across Europe investing in academies like never before. According to a 2020 UEFA report, the total expenditure of top league clubs on youth training is around €870 million per year, and since 2010, UEFA solidarity payments to non-cup academies have also tripled (to €139 million per year in 2019). More than 1,600 clubs have received support from these funds over the decade. It seems that clubs – even those that rarely sell players for high prices – are building training infrastructure anyway, because it is required by licenses and the hope of developing their own players. In countries such as Belgium, Croatia, and Serbia, the export of players is actually the main branch of the football "industry." The average club in such countries often survives by selling players to richer ones. If suddenly there were no possibility of obtaining a large transfer fee (e.g., because a free market without transfer fees was introduced, as some suggest), would such a club still invest several percent of its budget in its academy? And what about the investments already made? Szymański and other economists argue that this is how it should be – that the rich should then voluntarily or top-down share their resources to finance training at the bottom. But can we count on that? FFP practice has shown that the rich are more likely to exploit their advantages than to voluntarily give up funds.
Szymański criticized UEFA's Financial Fair Play as a mechanism for ossifying the hierarchy – limiting clubs' spending to their revenues closes the door to ambitious mid-table clubs with an injection of investment (e.g., a club cannot spend more than it earns, so it is more difficult for it to "catch up" with the leaders even with the support of a new investor). He pointed out that FFP favors established powerhouses because it freezes advantages (the rich will always be richer, so they will spend more on better players. This protects existing powerhouses from new competition (example: Red Bull had to patiently build Leipzig, it couldn't just pump hundreds of millions into it at the start). As a liberal, Szymański would probably lean towards loosening such regulations – let the market decide who invests how much, because this will stimulate competition.
However, it should be noted that Szymański does not ignore the need for a certain degree of solidarity. In his analysis of the transfer system, he pointed out that the current regulations (such as youth training fees and solidarity payments for international transfers) are ineffective and marginal. He believed that “solidarity should not be limited to the valuation of young talents produced for big clubs.” He argued that big clubs benefit from all levels of competition (because the entire league ladder and mass football create talent and fans), so support should be broader than just payment for individual transfers. It is difficult to disagree with this. Europe has even been taking some steps recently: in addition to the aforementioned UEFA funds, FIFA is also increasing payments to clubs for their players' participation in the World Cup (in 2026, as much as $355 million will be transferred to clubs for sending players to the World Cup). This is a form of global solidarity – because every club, even a small one, will get a piece of the pie if it has trained a representative. Similarly, the new 2025 Club World Cup has a huge prize pool ($1 billion), part of which, i.e. $250 million, is theoretically also to go to non-participating clubs.
Therefore, a better way than a revolutionary liberalization of the transfer market (e.g., abolishing fees and contracts only to be fulfilled, as was previously proposed in the spirit of Bosman) may be the evolution of existing solidarity mechanisms: increasing the amounts for academies, creating support funds for infrastructure development, bonuses for home-grown players in the squad, etc. UEFA already requires clubs to invest in training (licenses) and encourages them to field young players (List B in cup competitions). The commercialization of the training process – in a purely market sense – could, in an extreme scenario, lead to the richest clubs taking over this role: e.g., top clubs create global satellite academies and "suck up" talent as young as 12-14, paying parents or smaller schools, instead of waiting for someone else to train them, while the rest expect parents to pay for training. This is already happening to some extent: the system of poaching teenagers, although FIFA regulations are trying to limit it, and independent academies operating strictly for profit. Such a model operates, for example, in the USA in youth basketball (AAU circuits). But in soccer in Europe, clubs have traditionally been the center of talent development, often linked to local communities. Commercialization to the extreme can create a conflict of interest: do we train for trophies and community, or just for transfers?
Medium-sized clubs have become veritable factories for footballers – for example, Benfica Lisbon has earned hundreds of millions of euros in the last decade from the sale of its youth players (João Félix, Rúben Dias, Ederson, etc.), reinvesting in infrastructure. To a certain extent, this process is positive because it promotes the professionalization of training. Of course, care must be taken to ensure that the pursuit of profit does not supplant the sporting mission. If every young player is seen only through the prism of their potential price tag, clubs may neglect those who show less promise but could be valuable to local football.
Therefore, despite all the valuable proposals, our minor criticism of Szymański's position would be as follows: we agree that the current system of solidarity in football is imperfect and often hypocritical (the rich talk about solidarity, but share only a modest fraction of their profits). We support proposals to increase real support for training in poorer regions – for example, through top-down UEFA/FIFA funds from major events. However, we do not support the complete liberalization of the rules without safeguards, as this may have the opposite effect: the strongest will dominate the talent market even more easily, and mid-sized clubs will lose their advantage (which today includes the right to compensation for training or a percentage of the next transfer of a player they have trained). In other words, it is better to fix the system than to destroy it.
Szymański rightly points out that rich clubs benefit from the existence of a large pool of players trained outside their structures and that transfers are currently a flawed tool of redistribution (random and small). The question would therefore be, if not transfers, what would replace them?
Hypothetically, one way could be, for example, to introduce in Europe – following the example of American leagues – draft-type compensation mechanisms (the best juniors go to weaker clubs) or broader sharing of television revenues. However, these solutions, in turn, undermine market freedom and would meet with resistance from the big players (it is difficult to imagine Real or Bayern giving up their rights to select the best young players to anyone else). In practice, therefore, the search for balance continues.
Otherwise, we risk drifting towards a purely market-based model, where only a narrow elite survives at the top, and the "average" clubs become talent suppliers and the backdrop to the spectacle. Paradoxically, even some big clubs do not want this – because without the element of unpredictability and without fans across Europe living in hope of a “Cinderella promotion,” football will lose some of its charm, and this may be followed by a decline in fan engagement (and thus business value). As Szymański once noted, the culture of promotion and relegation is something that distinguishes European football and drives emotions. Even if the NFL model (where clubs are closed partners) is economically tempting, Europe remains different in terms of sport and society.
It therefore seems that the solution is evolution rather than revolution: adapting to globalization (e.g., new international club competitions), increasing transparency and redistribution—but at the same time nurturing the values that make people in a small town somewhere in Belgium or Croatia continue to invest their hearts and money in their club.