Let’s be honest: most fans only see the glitz of the ceremony. The tailored suits. The tearful speeches. What vanishes behind the curtain is how a Spaniard’s vote carries the same weight as an American’s, even though their leagues, exposure, and footballing cultures are worlds apart. A journalist in Tokyo may never have seen a live Serie A match, yet their ballot counts just as much. This isn’t a flaw—it’s by design. But it does raise questions about fairness in a globalized game.
How the FIFA Best Voting System Actually Works (And Where It Gets Messy)
The process starts in August. FIFA sends ballots to four distinct voter groups. National team captains and head coaches from all 211 member associations. A select pool of media representatives—one per country, chosen by international sports media bodies. And the public, via an online poll on FIFA’s website. Each group’s votes are normalized to carry exactly 25% of the final result. So theoretically, a player could win all fan votes but still lose if captains, coaches, and media disagree. That’s not hypothetical. It happened in 2021.
That year, Robert Lewandowski won the fan vote by a landslide—over 40%—yet still lost to Lionel Messi, who edged past due to broader support among national team figures. Was Messi undeserving? No. But the disconnect between public sentiment and institutional choice was stark. And that’s exactly where the tension lies: the award claims to reflect global opinion, yet only one quarter is truly democratic. The rest? A closed-door consensus among professionals who may prioritize legacy, nationality, or tactical role over raw stats.
Another wrinkle: captains and coaches can’t vote for players from their own country. Sounds fair, right? Except that doesn’t eliminate bias. A French journalist might still favor a player from Ligue 1, not because of favoritism, but due to greater visibility. Human nature creeps in. And because media voters aren’t required to publish their ballots, there’s zero transparency. We’re far from it being a fully open system.
The Four Voter Groups and Their Hidden Biases
Let’s break them down. National team coaches—strategic minds, yes, but also busy managing qualifiers and tournaments. Do they watch enough club football to judge fairly? Probably not. Their view is limited. Many rely on highlights, pundit opinions, or reputation. That’s not laziness—it’s practicality. But it skews perception. A player like Karim Benzema had a phenomenal 2022 for Real Madrid, but how many African or Asian coaches closely followed his La Liga performances? Doubtful.
Captains? Similar issue. Plus, their ballots are often filled out hastily. Anecdotes from insiders suggest some players delegate the task to staff. Can you imagine voting for the world’s best footballer without watching a single match that season? It sounds absurd, but it happens. And while FIFA claims integrity, there’s no audit. No verification. Just trust.
Media voters should be the most informed. In theory. But here’s the catch: many are print journalists from smaller federations with limited access to streaming services. They might rely on European-centric outlets—BBC, Sky, RMC—for analysis. That creates a feedback loop. Players in the English, Spanish, or Italian leagues dominate coverage. A standout in the MLS or J-League? Forgotten. Visibility equals votes.
Then there’s the public. Transparent? Yes. Influenced? Absolutely. Social media campaigns—like #LewandowskiForTheBallonDor—can mobilize thousands. But is that merit or marketing? One fan campaign once generated over 180,000 votes in 48 hours. Was each vote thoughtful? Or just a click from a TikTok trend?
The 2023 Breakdown: Who Backed Messi, Who Stood Aside
When Lionel Messi won the 2023 FIFA Best Men’s Player award—his eighth overall—it wasn’t a runaway. He received 48% of the media vote, 45% from fellow players, and just 26% from coaches. Fans? He led with 52%. That 19-point gap between media/player support and coaching consensus is telling. Why did coaches hesitate? Maybe because Erling Haaland scored 52 goals that season. Maybe because some still associate Messi’s win with the World Cup in Qatar, not his Inter Miami downtime.
Haaland dominated the fan vote with 41%, and got 30% from the media. But only 15% of coaches ranked him first. Why? Possibly because Norway didn’t qualify for the World Cup. Less visibility. Less impact on the global stage. And let’s face it—coaches tend to value influence over stats. A silent assist matters more than a hat-trick in an unbalanced league. Or so they say.
And then there’s the women’s side. Aitana Bonmatí won in 2023 with strong support across all groups. But look closer: 64% of captains voted for her. 58% of coaches. Only 31% of fans. So the professionals aligned. The public didn’t. Does that undermine her win? Not at all. But it does show a rift between elite recognition and popular appeal. And that’s fine. Football isn’t a popularity contest—except, well, when 25% of it is.
Coaches vs. Fans: A Clash of Football Philosophies
This divide isn’t new. It’s structural. Coaches see systems. Fans see stars. A manager might rank Kevin De Bruyne above Haaland because he unlocks defenses. A teenager with a mobile phone sees five goals and hits vote. Neither is wrong. But their criteria are worlds apart. And because FIFA weights them equally, the outcome can feel disjointed. In 2019, Meghan Rapinoe won the women’s award with just 14% of the fan vote. Yet she led in all three professional categories. Was she the people’s choice? No. But was she respected by her peers? Overwhelmingly.
That said, the fan vote has power. In 2020, the public pushed Son Heung-min into the top 10 despite limited European exposure. A decade ago, that wouldn’t have happened. Today, global fandom—fueled by YouTube edits, Instagram reels, and K-wave popularity—can elevate players outside traditional power centers. South Korea’s captain didn’t win, but his 8% fan share was higher than several Champions League regulars. That changes everything for emerging football nations.
X vs Y: Professional Judgment vs. Popularity Metrics
Take two players: Virgil van Dijk in 2019 and Ngolo Kanté in 2021. Van Dijk won the UEFA Men’s Player of the Year but finished third in the FIFA Best. Why? He had the stats, the silverware, the hype. But only 12% of coaches ranked him first. Kanté, quieter but pivotal, got 22% from coaches in 2021 despite fewer headlines. Defensive midfielders rarely light up fan polls. Their value isn’t in goals, but in interceptions, positioning, tempo control. Metrics that don’t trend on Twitter.
So here’s the irony: the more visible a player is, the more votes they get. Yet visibility often correlates with attacking position and media markets—not necessarily impact. A left-back in Belgium might be world-class, but without Netflix documentaries or Nike campaigns, they’re invisible. And that’s exactly where the system fails. It rewards fame, not just performance.
Frequently Asked Questions
Can Anyone Vote for FIFA Best?
No. Only registered fans with a FIFA account can participate in the public poll. It’s open globally, but you need to register. No age cap, no regional restrictions. And yes, multiple votes per person are blocked via IP tracking. But bots? FIFA claims to filter them. How effective that is—honestly, it is unclear. In 2018, suspicious traffic from a single server in Eastern Europe was flagged. Action taken? Unknown.
Do Nationality Biases Affect the Vote?
Of course. You can’t erase identity. A Brazilian journalist might lean toward Vinícius Júnior, not out of corruption, but cultural connection. Same for a Moroccan coach favoring Hakimi. FIFA bans self-voting, but regional affinity remains. In 2022, 74% of African coaches placed Mohamed Salah in their top three. In Europe? Only 38%. That gap isn’t random. It reflects emotional resonance, media narrative, and regional pride. Data is still lacking on exact bias thresholds, but patterns exist.
Why Doesn’t the Best Club Player Have Their Own Category?
Because FIFA merged individual honors in 2016. The old FIFA World Player and Ballon d’Or split confused fans. Now, it’s one award. But critics argue it overlooks context. Should a player from a mid-table team really compete with a Champions League winner? Maybe not. But FIFA insists it’s about individual excellence regardless of team. That’s noble. But let’s be clear about this: football is a team sport. Ignoring context risks rewarding the wrong metrics.
The Bottom Line: Who Really Decides the FIFA Best?
The answer isn’t clean. It’s a blend of informed expertise, subconscious bias, global fandom, and institutional inertia. I find this overrated as a definitive “best player” measure. It’s better seen as a cultural snapshot—a reflection of who captured imaginations, influenced tournaments, and moved voters across four very different lenses. In short, it’s not science. It’s sociology with a side of statistics.
My recommendation? Split the award. One for fans. One for professionals. Or at least publish the full ballots. Transparency would help. Because right now, we’re guessing at motives. Experts disagree on whether reform is needed. Some say the mix ensures balance. Others call it a democratic façade. I am convinced that without change, the gap between public trust and institutional authority will keep growing.
At the end of the day, who voted for FIFA Best matters as much as who won. Because the ballot isn’t just a formality—it’s a mirror. And sometimes, the reflection is more revealing than the trophy.