In a finale that somehow blended elite football, pantomime politics, and the general chaos of a buffet at a wedding where someone’s already spiked the punch, Chelsea Football Club became world champions — and the President of the United States accidentally joined the team.
Yes, Chelsea, who just weeks ago were being dissected by Ipswich Town and tactically undressed by Polish journeymen, have won the Club World Cup. Not the old one — the new 32-team one FIFA cobbled together during a coffee break and a brainstorming session that probably ended with “Sod it, let’s invite everyone.” They beat PSG 3–0 in the final, which, on paper, sounds impressive — until you realise PSG had played so many games this season that half their squad arrived wearing compression boots and existential dread.
Still, credit where it’s due. Chelsea were superb. Cole Palmer danced through the final like he was trying to win Strictly and Ballon d’Or in one go. Pedro, recently acquired from Brighton mid-tournament (because football’s laws are now entirely optional), looked like he’d been genetically engineered for finals. And Enzo Maresca — who began the season with a clipboard and ended it with silverware — masterminded the lot.
But the football, spectacular though it was, briefly took a back seat. Because when the moment came to lift the trophy, Chelsea found themselves with an unexpected twelfth man on the podium: President Donald J. Trump, who had apparently decided that the post-match ceremony was missing just one thing — him.
Trump, having just handed Reece James the cup (and presumably whispered something inspiring like “great job, son”), proceeded to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the squad during the celebrations, as if he was about to be offered a short-term contract at right-back.
Cole Palmer, charmingly perplexed, was caught mouthing “What is he doing?” — a question mirrored by roughly 81,000 spectators, the Chelsea squad, and FIFA president Gianni Infantino, who returned to the stage moments later to physically extract the Commander-in-Chief from the line-up like an errant uncle who’s wandered into a family photo he wasn’t invited to.
It wasn’t even Trump’s first awkward appearance of the day. Booed when he appeared on the stadium’s big screen before kick-off, he remained undeterred, strolling onto the pitch for the trophy ceremony with all the subtlety of a runaway parade float. Beside him, Melania Trump smiled gamely, no doubt wondering whether this counted as a diplomatic engagement or just another surreal Sunday.
Still, Trump was in fine spirits, telling broadcasters at half-time: “I am having a really great time. Tremendous sport.” One suspects he believes the offside rule involves Canada.
Elsewhere, PSG did their best impersonation of a team fraying at the seams. Joao Neves was sent off for hair-pulling (Marc Cucurella, naturally), Gianluigi Donnarumma started an argument with everyone, and Luis Enrique, no stranger to a meltdown, struck Joao Pedro in the face after the final whistle — an act that may land him a place in the UFC before the UEFA hearing concludes.
And so Chelsea, who have somehow turned a misfiring, scattergun, 65-game season into a World Championship, will now adorn their kits with a shiny new badge and collect £87 million in prize money — about enough for half a striker, or three-quarters of a Todd Boehly brainwave.
As for Trump, he leaves with no medal, no contract, and no apparent idea he wasn’t supposed to be there. But then again, when has that ever stopped him?
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