Football has to work really hard to put a smile on people's face

Hear, O seeker, the solemn words of Gordon Taylor: “Football has to work really hard to put a smile on people’s face and not to be so focused on the question of money. Everything is in danger of losing its soul if you’re always going to sell out to the highest bidder.” Though he speaks of a game beloved by millions, his message carries far beyond the pitch. It is a warning against the corruption of joy by greed, against the slow erosion of meaning when gold replaces heart.

The meaning of this reflection is both simple and profound. Football, once the people’s game, a source of community, passion, and identity, is threatened when it becomes nothing more than a marketplace. The smile it brings—the laughter of children in the stands, the pride of communities bound by colors and songs—cannot be bought or sold. Taylor warns that to focus only on money is to hollow out the very essence of the sport, leaving behind a shell without spirit. The true purpose of football, as of all art and culture, is to uplift, to unite, and to inspire—not merely to enrich.

The origin of this wisdom can be found in the very beginnings of sport. In ancient Greece, the Olympic Games were not created for profit, but to honor the gods, to strengthen the body, and to celebrate excellence. Athletes competed not for salaries or sponsorships, but for wreaths of olive and the eternal honor of their city. Even in medieval villages, games of ball were played not for wealth, but for joy, fellowship, and pride. The soul of sport has always been rooted in these human bonds; it is only in modern times that money’s shadow has grown so vast.

History shows us how often greatness falters when money eclipses meaning. Consider the fall of Rome, where the games of the Colosseum, once meant to honor valor, turned into spectacles of blood bought for political gain. What began as ritual degraded into indulgence, distracting a weary people while their empire decayed. So too, in modern times, when clubs and competitions sell themselves only to the highest bidder, the beauty of the game is endangered. Fans sense the loss, for they came not for commerce but for belonging.

And yet, there are moments of resistance—moments when football remembers its heart. In war-torn Europe, during the Christmas Truce of 1914, German and British soldiers left their trenches, joined together, and played a match upon the frozen ground. No ticket sales, no sponsors, no wealth—only the pure joy of the game and the smiles it brought in the midst of despair. That is the soul Taylor speaks of: fragile, precious, and more valuable than all the money in the world.

The lesson is clear. Whether in football, art, or life itself, we must guard against the temptation to measure all things in coin. The soul of any endeavor is found in the joy it gives, the truth it honors, and the unity it creates. If we trade these for profit, we risk building monuments of gold with hollow hearts. To put a smile on another’s face is a richer legacy than to fill one’s coffers.

Practically, this calls for action both from leaders and from ourselves. Clubs, organizations, and artists must remember that their greatest duty is to their people, not their balance sheets. And we, as individuals, must also ask: in our own pursuits, do we labor for money alone, or for meaning? Do we create, share, and live in a way that lifts others, or do we sell our time and spirit to the highest bidder without thought of the cost?

So remember this, O listener: the soul of life cannot be bought. Whether in sport, in work, or in love, seek always to give joy, to bring smiles, and to honor what is true. For the moment we surrender meaning to money, we risk losing the very heart of what makes us human.