At a time when meritocracy feels like a myth, and the lottery of birth and “inheritocracy” of parental wealth largely dictates our paths, it’s heartening to see a relatively level playing field.
The many underdog football teams at the 2026 World Cup – including from some of the poorest countries, such as Haiti and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) – is inspiring.
In DRC, less than 1% of the population fall in the consumer class (people able to buy goods and services to meet basic needs). A protracted conflict rages in the east, alongside an Ebola outbreak.
Yet its national team was imposing. It passed the group stage and seriously tested a heavyweight, England, leading for over an hour. It fell by a single late goal, as did a few other African teams. The team brought pride and unity to the country in a way politics never has.
Cape Verde, a first-time participant, proved your past is not your ceiling: meritocracy is in the moment.
In its purest form, the World Cup is a global stage for talent. For sure, it’s not perfect. Wealthy countries have systemic advantages, such as elite coaching, advanced nutrition, and access to professional systems.
This event has also been heavily criticised for controversial officiating, the perception of bias favouring Argentina, and explicit commercial and political interests: prohibitively expensive tickets, mistreatment of the Iranian squad, and arbitrary disciplinary sanctions.
Nonetheless, the World Cup is still a massive meritocratic space. In most professions, you need years of study, certificates, funds, and the right pedigree to succeed. In football, you just need a ball and space.
Humble beginnings are not unusual for players. The mothers of superstars Lionel Messi (Argentina) and Cristiano Ronaldo (Portugal) were cleaners.
Some players have overcome profound adversity: Alphonso Davies (Canada) and Anwer Mabil (Australia) were born in refugee camps in Ghana and Kenya. Sadio Mane (Senegal) endured hunger, war, and work in fields when young, turning up to his first trial in shredded boots held together by wire.
Luis Diaz (Colombia) grew up in an indigenous village without running water or electricity, playing football on rocky dirt pitches. When first scouted at an indigenous event, he was almost written off as he was so severely underweight. Romelu Lukaku (Belgium) swore to escape poverty as a child after seeing his mother dilute milk to make it last longer.
Those who overcome real hardship often possess a drive and a resilience forged out of the struggle to survive. I saw this in my father. Growing up in war and when education was still a privilege, he relied on sheer grit and self-study to secure a scholarship to study medicine in Singapore.
That kind of drive can be traced in the French football team – the favourites to win the World Cup – specifically back to neglected low-income housing estates in French banlieues (suburbs), home to diverse immigrant communities.
Youth living in dense habitations a loyer modere (HLM) estates have few recreational activities or opportunities and face economic exclusion. Football isn’t just a pastime; it’s a clear pathway for social mobility.
An intense “street football” culture has emerged, with the confined, crowded, concrete spaces available only serving to strengthen footwork and close control dribbling skills.
The HLM act as pipelines feeding raw talent into community or local clubs, and from there, to 15 elite football academies and national youth teams. One quarter of the French national team hail from HLM in Paris, including top scorer Kylian Mbappe, from the Bondy banlieue. For all their flaws, the HLM have become unintentional architects of the world’s most successful football ecosystem.
France now produces far more talent than its national team can absorb, so numerous players developed in the French system choose to play for their country of ethnic origin, such as Algeria, DRC, or Senegal.
There are clear lessons here for Malaysia: wealth or background do not ensure success; talent and drive do. But talent only flourishes with a grassroots system that provides creative space and structured training.
Crucially, any potential is wasted without meritocracy. For elite performance, the system must reward results. If connections, race, or reputation matter more, the system is doomed. If poor governance, politics, and power play interfere, the system crumbles. Scandals must be honestly addressed to ensure the pitch remains a transparent, open, level playing field.
There are no shortcuts. Buying heritage players is a quick fix that neglects the hard work of building a sustainable system, and overlooks local talent. We have to work bottom up, with a nationwide network that identifies raw talent, and provide a reliable, financially-viable pathway from the local field to the professional pitch.
Currently, this path is unstable and financially opaque, pushing parents to prioritise academics over athletics. Radical transparency will be the disinfectant needed to turn this pipeline into a dream.
As for the winner of this World Cup, this is football. As in life, anything can happen. The pitch is the ultimate arbiter.
