Manchester City are the greatest football team money can buy. Literally. For over a decade, the club has bent, twisted, and flat-out detonated the financial rules of the Premier League, racking up an eye-watering 115 charges that cover everything from inflated sponsorship deals to concealed payments. If there were a Football Hall of Fame for creative accounting, City would already have their own wing.
The charges span the period where City “rose” from plucky neighbors to serial champions. Except we all know it wasn’t grit or academy brilliance fueling their surge, it was the sovereign wealth of Abu Dhabi, funneled through sponsorships so brazen they might as well have stamped “This Is A Sham” on the Etihad boardroom table. You don’t become the second-highest earning club in the world by selling out stadiums (spoiler: they don’t) or shifting kits like United, Real Madrid, or Barcelona. You do it by cooking the books, and hoping the watchdogs are too busy licking the silver spoon to notice.
And here’s the punchline: the Premier League has noticed. They just won’t do anything. Why? Because the Premier League is addicted to foreign wealth. Sovereign states and mega-billionaires bankroll the circus, and the league office would rather sell its soul ten times over than risk upsetting the oil barons who’ve made English football the world’s priciest soap opera. It’s like watching a cop pull over a Ferrari doing 120mph and then ask for a selfie instead of writing the ticket.
The City case is the league’s chance to finally prove it isn’t a puppet for oligarchs and sovereign funds. Dock points. Strip titles. Relegate them if you have the backbone. Show the rest of football that the rules apply equally, whether you’re Luton Town scraping for survival or a petrostate’s toy club with unlimited resources. But let’s be honest: they won’t.
The charges were announced in February 2023. Since then, we’ve had hearings, procedural delays, and an army of lawyers billing by the hour to make sure nothing actually happens. City’s legal defense is simple: stall long enough and everyone will be too bored to care. And unfortunately, it’s working.
Meanwhile, every fan outside the Etihad knows the truth. City cheated. Repeatedly. The Premier League was built on the idea that hard work, shrewd management, and community support could elevate a club. Instead, City imported an entire sovereign wealth strategy, distorted the financial landscape, and left the rest of the league fighting for scraps. If you think Brighton or Aston Villa can “just spend better,” you’re missing the point; they’re competing with a nation, not a club.
If the Premier League lets City skate, the message is clear: cheat big enough, cheat long enough, and the worst that happens is a strongly worded press release. The league’s credibility will erode, supporters will grow more cynical, and the sport itself will feel less authentic. But hey, at least the balance sheets will look good.
115 charges. Zero courage. And football fans everywhere paying the price.
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