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Nestled between the Matterhorn and several vineyards that produce more scandal than wine, the Swiss canton of Valais has quietly achieved something no nation, continent, or footballing dynasty has managed before: cornering the global market on FIFA presidents.
First came Sepp Blatter, born in Visp, who ran world football for 17 years with the transparency of a Toblerone wrapper. Then came Gianni Infantino, born in Brig — a town so close to Visp that locals reportedly argue over which bakery invented the modern conflict of interest.
"It's not nepotism, it's regional pride," said one local resident, who asked to remain anonymous, mostly because he was contractually obligated to. "In Valais, we don't have LinkedIn. We have christenings."
Political scientists have long noted that Valais operates less like a democracy and more like a very scenic family business, where cousins inherit council seats the way other people inherit pocket watches. Analysts are now floating a new theory: that FIFA's top job is, in fact, a Valais municipal position that simply forgot to stay local.
"You have to understand the ecosystem," explained one Geneva-based governance expert, gesturing vaguely at a whiteboard covered in arrows pointing at nothing. "In Valais, if your uncle knows the right guy, you get the road repaved. If your uncle knows the very right guy, apparently you get 211 member federations and several billion dollars in broadcasting rights."
Reached for comment, FIFA reportedly issued a statement praising "the rich tradition of Swiss values — precision, discretion, and knowing exactly which documents to shred by which deadline."
Infantino himself, when asked whether growing up 15 minutes from his predecessor's hometown played any role in his rise, reportedly smiled the exact smile of a man who has been media-trained since infancy and said only that "Switzerland is a country that believes in institutions." He did not specify which century's institutions.
As FIFA continues to face allegations of financial mismanagement and back-room dealing that would make a raclette dinner blush, one has to ask the obvious question: is it really a coincidence that world football's steering wheel keeps ending up in the hands of two men who could, in theory, carpool?
Locals insist it's simply that Valais produces exceptional administrators, citing the canton's centuries of experience managing intensely complicated water rights between neighboring villages — a skill set that, it turns out, translates surprisingly well to managing intensely complicated football politics between neighboring continents.
Others have a simpler theory: that in a small alpine valley where everyone already knows everyone, "conflict of interest" was never really in the local dialect to begin with.