The Super League Hiding in Plain Sight 🏆

I feel slightly ashamed, as a Yorkshireman, admitting it, but there is something about the Champions League that gets to me. Rationally, of course, I know that a lot of the things that made the competition special to younger me have been lost. There is none of the mystery, none of the rarity, none of the wonder that came from seeing exotic teams and unfamiliar names. 

Over the years it has been remorselessly – and quite deliberately – turned into a playground for a dozen or so of the richest clubs in the world, teams that see this tournament as theirs by right, rather than a privilege for which they ought to compete. And that has, in lots of ways, diminished its majesty. I know all of this, deep down, with my conscious and slightly wizened brain.

But then Juventus came back from 4-2 down in injury time to claim a draw with Borussia Dortmund, and Marseille almost won at the Bernabéu, and Atlético Madrid scrapped and clawed – literally, in Diego Simeone’s case – to come within a couple of minutes of a point at Liverpool. None of these results mean as much as they might, or perhaps should. Watching them, though, there is just a glimmer of that old wonder. The Champions League just never fails. 

The greatest threat to the prestige of the Champions League, of course, has been obvious for some time. It is so obvious, in fact, that it manages to unite arguably the most fractious group of people on the planet: the sundry suits, executives and shadowy power-brokers who run European soccer’s clubs, leagues and self-interested organizing bodies. The problem, they all agree, is the Premier League.

They have said this, quite openly, for some time. England’s clubs have such deep pockets, such unparalleled resources, that they are rapidly unmooring themselves from the broader ecosystem of European football. They can pay for the best talent. They can hire the smartest coaches. They can cherry-pick anyone and anything they like from their theoretical peers in Spain, Italy, France and Germany, and they can strike a double blow in the process: they make themselves stronger and their opponents weaker.

There are many, in fact, who are convinced that the Super League – the idea that unified European football in disgust when it was formally proposed in 2021 – already exists. It just has a different name. Andrea Agnelli, the former president of Juventus, said this frequently. Javier Tebas, the man who runs La Liga, mentions it a couple of times a month. Nobody else, they say, can hope to compete.

That these dire warnings do not always cut through as they might can probably be attributed to the fact that neither Agnelli nor Tebas are especially sympathetic messengers. The former was ejected from his position at Juventus under a cloud of various scandals. The latter is an undeniably effective advocate for La Liga, his purview. That does not mean he is likable. 

But it is probably more significant that they do not really seem to ring true. Europe’s great and good might spend a substantial portion of their time issuing dread pronouncements of a bleak tomorrow, one in which the continent chafes under the English yoke, but it has not yet come to pass. 

It is more or less possible to divide the modern Champions League into vaguely-defined eras. Their contours are not sharp, perfect; the borders between one and the next tend to blur into each other; it can be difficult to discern when one period starts and another ends, particularly without the perspective provided by hindsight.

Still, roughly, the 1990s were dominated by Italian sides: a team from Serie A made the final in every season from 1992 (the first edition of the revamped tournament) to 1998. Around the turn of the century, Spain took over: Real Madrid won in 1998 and 2002, and Valencia made two of the three finals in between.

From 2005 to 2012, the Premier League provided three European champions – and a first-ever all-English final – but the defining team of that era was Barcelona, victors in 2006, 2009 and 2011, thanks to what may well be the finest club side the game has known. After a brief German interlude in 2013, the competition belonged to Spain: Barcelona lifting the trophy again in 2015, and Real Madrid doing so in every other year until 2019.

The Premier League has only really made its presence unequivocally felt since 2019. That was an all-English final, of course; the same thing happened in 2021. Liverpool made the final in 2022; Manchester City won it the year after. This seemed to be exactly what Agnelli, Tebas and the others had predicted. England’s clubs were too rich, too powerful to stop.

Except they weren’t. Real beat Borussia Dortmund in 2024; Paris St.-Germain overcame Inter in 2025. It is not even the case that the Premier League, in the last few years, has been sending a raft of semifinalists. Only four of its teams – Liverpool and City in 2022, City in 2023 and Arsenal in 2025 – have made it that far in the last four editions.

Sheer numbers should mean that record improves a little this year. There are, for the first time, six Premier League teams in the Champions League this season. As of the time of writing, three of them had won their opening games, all against Spanish opposition: Arsenal outlasted Athletic Club in Bilbao; Tottenham kept Villarreal at arms’ length in London; Liverpool had the energy to summon yet another late winner against Atlético Madrid. (Chelsea spoiled the pattern a little, but there is no great shame in losing to Bayern Munich. Today, Newcastle faces Barcelona and Manchester City hosts Napoli). 

All three of those wins seemed to underline the strength that the English sides have. Liverpool could throw on Hugo Ekitike as a replacement for Alexander Isak. Arsenal’s goals were scored by two of Mikel Arteta’s substitutes; Athletic Club does not have the depth that Arsenal could muster. Tottenham finished 17th in the Premier League last season, but matched the fourth best team in Spain.

And yet recent years teach us not to take anything for granted. The Premier League sides have more money and better players than all but a handful of their European counterparts. All six should – economically – make the knockout rounds. None of them would be delusional for thinking they could make the quarterfinals. Three, maybe four, will harbor genuine ambitions of winning it.

These things have all been true for some time, though, and yet they have not translated into absolute dominance. Part of that is doubtless down to the quality of their opponents; Real Madrid, PSG and the rest are not to be taken lightly. Part of it can be attributed to the nature of a knockout competition; as churlish as it sounds, the best team does not always win. That is part of the fun.

But perhaps part of it, too, might be traced to the Premier League itself. The English top flight is not, despite the marketing spiel, the most entertaining league in the world: that is entirely subjective, and is related to which league contains the team you support. It may not be the most technically adroit league in the world. It is probably not the most unpredictable (hello, Italy).

It is, though, almost certainly the most tiring. Its wealth means that more games are more exacting than in any of the other major leagues of western Europe. It is an exceptionally grueling experience; Florian Wirtz, as Arne Slot said after one of his first appearances in England, was finding out that there were more places to have cramp than he can have imagined. That is exacerbated by the fact that there are two domestic cup competitions and only a whisper of a winter break.

That is what makes it such a spectacle, of course, but it is hardly ideal preparation for competing across two fronts, especially in the Champions League’s expanded iteration. In the fall, English teams look all-conquering, untouchable. By the spring, their legs are starting to feel heavy, their minds are tired, and their attention is wandering; winning the Premier League, after all, is no less an ambition than conquering Europe.

Perhaps it is that which is holding England’s domination of the continent in check. At some point, the fatigue kicks in, eroding all of the advantages they have, turning the Premier League’s strength into a fleeting, and very specific, weakness.

📬 Enjoying The Correspondent? Check Out Our Other MiB Newsletters:

🐦‍⬛ The Raven: Our Monday and Friday newsletter where we preview the biggest matches around the world (and tell you where/how to watch them) and recap our favorite football moments from the weekend.

☀️ The Women’s Game: Everything you need to know about women’s soccer, sent straight to your inbox each week.

🇺🇸 USMNT Only: Your weekly update on the most important topics in the U.S. men’s game, all leading up to next year’s World Cup.

It doesn’t really need saying that the still-quite-new format of the Champions League was invented, largely, to keep Europe’s major teams happy. Part of that was rooted in the sort of math it does not require an MBA to understand: more games means more money.

But part of it was a little more cunning. (To be clear: only a little.) By happy coincidence, more games also gave the richer teams more room for error; to qualify, by most calculations, they would probably only need to win three of eight fixtures, maybe four. This would, in turn, mean more money.

Best of all, the new format also promised more mouthwatering meetings between Europe’s biggest team. The tournament would no longer have to rely on the luck of the draw to produce headline encounters. Instead, there would be lots of them. Guess what this would mean? The real bonus, though, was that they wouldn’t result in one of the teams being knocked out. In some cases, there would be little to no jeopardy at all.

That was all factored in when UEFA made the switch, believing that the new format would hold off the threat of an actual Super League for a while, at least. What they probably did not think about was the side-effect, which is that each of Europe’s biggest names is now forced to compete, half a dozen times a season, against opponents who are basically playing in a cup final.

Real Madrid, in particular, suffered from that phenomenon last season; their first fixture this year, against Marseille, suggested they will have to endure it again this time around. Today’s showcase fixture is Barcelona’s eagerly-anticipated trip to Newcastle. Eddie Howe called it a “magical” sort of occasion. Bayern Munich, PSG and the Premier League contingent will all find themselves in the same position at some point.

There is something intensely satisfying about that. It’s a reminder that, for all that the game is slowly being reshaped to reflect the interests of the elite, sports contain certain natural balances, ones that cannot be eroded entirely by wealth and power.

Those of you who have listened to European Nights over the last few years will know that there is one team we cherish above all others. It would appear that JT is very much on the same page. “Bodo Bodo Bodo,” they wrote. “Glimt Glimt Glimt. Don’t we all love this expanded Champions League? At least it pushes a good story onto the table sometimes.”

This is in reference to Norway’s finest coming from 2-0 down to take a point against Slavia Prague in their first ever game in the Champions League. Bodo is a genuine feel-good story, one we’ve been keeping tabs on for a while. But we should mention Qarabağ, too, a team from Azerbaijan that went to Benfica, went 2-0 down and managed to win. That’s probably the best story of this week of games.

Less full of the joys of spring are Nottingham Forest’s fans. “Can I just get a little sympathy for how frightening it is sometimes – quite often, in fact most of the time – to be a Forest fan?” asked Andrea. I feel like there’s no need to be especially scared, Andrea: is it not in the gospels of the Postecoglouites that all that is necessary is to believe? Or maybe that’s Ted Lasso. But look, as an Australian would say: he’s a good manager and Forest has a good squad. It may not be quite the success of last season but it won’t be terrible, either. Please note: I typed that part just before Forest lost at Swansea. But who cares about the Carabao, right?

And finally, a question from Robert Hay. “Why aren’t transfers a fluid aspect of football? Why does there have to be a “window?” What harm would there be if the market for players was open all season? Just because a wealthy team wants to buy the star player of a less wealthy team doesn’t mean that team has to sell that player’s contract.”

For a long time this was pretty much the case, Robert, certainly in England. Teams could trade right up until the end of March; the only deadline existed to prevent sides recruiting the best players from their rivals. They changed it because that isn’t ideal from a planning perspective: teams might start a season well, have their star removed from them – they don’t have to sell, no, but money tends to talk – and then find their entire campaign undermined. That, in turn, led to poor decision-making, as basically everything in soccer does. So they changed it. Fabrizio Romano doing Cameos saying “Here We Go” is just an ancillary benefit.

That’s all for this week! If you, like Robert, have a question, or if you would like some reassurance, like Andrea, then please feel free to get in touch at [email protected]. We read and appreciate every single one of them. And when I say we, I mean… me.

Have a great weekend, and take care,
Rory