Gianni Infantino will no longer be able to take credit for the success of the Faroe Islands national team. They’ve done it on their own — beating Gibraltar (1–0), Montenegro (4–0), and the Czech Republic (2–1). Only Croatia remains, and the fairytale that no other sport could ever offer might just come true.

Take a look at the World Cup qualifying tables. Infantino says we’re witnessing a “treasure.” In reality, it’s a conveyor belt — one that mass-produces fairytales like Netflix churns out glossy series.

Cape Verde, Jordan, New Caledonia, Uzbekistan — a whole generation of debutants is preparing to make its first appearance on football’s biggest stage. Some have already secured their spots. Who knows, maybe we’ll even see Curaçao — currently topping their CONCACAF group under 78-year-old Dutch coach Dick Advocaat.

Yes, surprises happen. But this time, FIFA’s “fairy-tale experts” have lent a helping hand — opening the door to newcomers through the expansion of the tournament from 32 to 48 teams.

The excitement in Amman, Tashkent, Tórshavn, and Nouméa is understandable. For most nations, the World Cup was always an exclusive club they could never enter. In that sense, the enlarged format fulfills a global, almost philanthropic mission.

But once the tournament begins, we’ll understand the true cost of this so-called equality.

The new group stage will last two and a half weeks — 48 teams, 72 matches spread across North America, from Guadalajara to Vancouver, from Miami to San Francisco. And only 16 teams will be eliminated.

Then comes the round of 32: Argentina vs. Jordan, Spain vs. Cape Verde, Brazil vs. Curaçao, France vs. New Caledonia.

Expanding the World Cup to 48 teams dilutes its essence and lowers the overall quality. Now, one out of every 4.35 FIFA members will qualify. Why bother with complex qualifiers at all? Let each confederation hold a quick playoff, and we could host the World Cup every year.

And the planned future expansion to 64 teams would mean one in every 3.25 FIFA nations qualifies. The idea of seeing “exotic” national teams sounds romantic — but it turns the World Cup into a championship of mediocrity.

Even financially, FIFA won’t gain much. Broadcasters will pay only for marquee matches. The new Club World Cup was sold largely because Saudi Arabia bought it outright.

The old Champions League format died for the same reason. In autumn, group-stage matches were background noise — fans waited for December to check tables, and the real competition began only in February. At the Club World Cup, matches between Korean and African sides drew fewer than three thousand spectators.

Maybe some fans still enjoy the fairytale of “Gianni and the Seven Dwarfs.” But a World Cup where most games are instantly forgotten will do more harm than good.

This is commercial inflation — a dilution of prestige. FIFA is turning a unique tournament into an overloaded, mediocre product.

But it is what it is.

Meanwhile, as Jordan, Cape Verde, and the Faroe Islands chase their dreams, Ukraine’s star-studded squad — with players from the Premier League, La Liga, Serie A, Benfica, and PSG — continues to struggle, calling it “part of the plan.”

Perhaps we just need to wait for the next expansion — to 128 teams — before we can finally qualify without heart pills.