Did the clink of glasses really set the tone for a summer of record deals? At 6 p.m., the Felix Bar & Kitchen staff rolled out chilled white wine and truffle‑infused negronis, ready for the night that would become the year’s biggest party.
It unfolded on the eve of the Champions League final in Budapest on May 30.
Unaware, the waitstaff were arranging more than a dinner; they were laying the groundwork for the most massive transfer window ever.
Rubin, a mogul in sports merch and collectibles, is famed for his exclusive White Party in the Hamptons near New York.
His eyes betray a perpetual rave‑state, both vibrant and exhausted. After his last elite gathering, an Instagram snap showed Rubin and NFL legend Tom Brady hooked up to IVs, a post‑recovery scene. Rubin insists every guest meets someone who can boost their business.
UEFA seemed to echo that same ambition.
Twelve top football owners, chairmen and CEOs raised glasses and swapped deals—a scene unimaginable not long ago. Six clubs—Barcelona, Manchester City, Milan, Juventus, Arsenal and Chelsea—had once backed the doomed European Super League, which Ceferin halted with Al‑Khelaifi’s help.
But history moves on, like the waters beneath Budapest’s Szechenyi Bridge. Regimes shifted, reconciliations occurred, making the next day’s match, the coaching market and player signings far more relevant.
By September 1, the night’s attendees had sealed 18 deals worth over €1 billion, including moves for Ballon d’Or winner Rodri and his 2026 World Cup final opponent Enzo Fernandez.
When Sawiris wasn’t chatting with Alibaba co‑founder Joseph Tsai and Juventus custodian John Elkann—both on Exor’s Partners Council—he was likely sizing up Arsenal’s Kroenke family and Chelsea’s chief dealmaker Behdad Eghbali, the club’s co‑owner and Clearlake partner.
Both clubs coveted Rogers. In the end, Eghbali offered Sawiris £117 million, just £1 million above Marinakis’s fee for Anderson. The optics hinted at how fiercely these diners compete, each ready to topple the other’s record.
Beyond pricing a Premier League midfielder, the gathering also sought advice on managerial appointments.
A key driver of this summer’s market was the churn of dugouts across the Premier League, with City, Chelsea, Forest and Fulham’s Shahid Khan all changing coaches.
Milan patron Gerry Cardinale attended, having just sacked his CEO, technical director, sporting director and head coach—a sweeping overhaul after RedBird’s takeover, signaling a hands‑on approach.
He mulled Ralf Rangnick and other German‑Austrian coaches from the Red Bull school, even chatting with F1 chief Stefano Domenicali before finally appointing Rubén Amorim.
These owner networks, some long‑standing, others fresh, proved crucial this summer. For my money, the dinner gave owners the edge over traditional football executives.
The pattern runs counter to the decade‑long narrative of how clubs should operate.
In that time, Premier League sides finally embraced sporting directors, moving away from manager‑led recruitment. Moneyball and the FSG model became benchmarks, with Liverpool praised for data‑driven triumphs against sovereign‑fund backed rivals.
Owners were expected to delegate to this new executive tier while managing diverse business empires. Yet football’s roar can drown politics, forcing clubs to demand more capital, commitment and control from their owners.
A hallmark of this summer was the surge of deals struck directly between owners, often bypassing sporting directors. While scouts still identify talent and conduct due diligence, owners now play a starring, almost 1990s Serie A‑style, role.
Critics blame ego and a craving to star in the world’s biggest show. Football grants billionaires a spotlight that their own sectors rarely provide, linking them to states like Abu Dhabi and Qatar, whose fame grew through the sport.
Fans liken clubs to priceless artworks, scarce and thrilling to own—more so than a Matisse on a wall—because owners can shape their design.
Imagine standing beside Picasso as he paints, offering a suggestion. Football lets owners pick up the brush, sometimes as a hobby, often as a massive business—a high‑stakes trading game.
With unprecedented cash and clubs treated as assets for future returns, it’s clear why figures like Eghbali dive deep into transfer strategy, even after expanding BlueCo’s sporting director team. He likely credits his finance savvy for his rise.
Recruitment has shifted from manager‑driven to director‑led, yet owners now do far more than sign a cheque. Collaboration persists, but has the balance tipped dramatically toward the owner‑operator?
Eghbali is far from an outlier.
Take Al‑Khelaifi: PSG’s president played a central role this summer, with the champions generating €400.4 million from selling squad players.
While Luis Enrique’s coaching nurtured talent sourced by director Luis Campos, selling remains tougher than buying, prompting owners to step in and fine‑tune deals.
Milan’s record signing of PSG’s Gonçalo Ramos and Strasbourg’s Diego Moreira materialised thanks to Cardinale’s rapport with Al‑Khelaifi and Eghbali. Liverpool’s top inbound, Bradley Barcola, was brokered between Al‑Khelaifi and Fenway’s Richard Hughes and Mike Gordon. Juventus’s return for Randal Kolo Muani also hinged on Al‑Khelaifi’s ties with Elkann and Sawiris, as did Villa’s capture of Ibrahim Mbaye.
This tight‑knit circle fuels another trend: Premier League clubs increasingly trade amongst themselves.
The wealthiest league can outpay most of Europe, shrinking the market for clubs outside England. Consequently, many teams vie for the same Premier League‑tested talent, prolonging negotiations—as seen with Enzo Fernandez.
When top analysts and directors converge on a single target and clubs wield comparable firepower, how do you clinch the deal? Might it be over dinner? Does the transfer market now hinge more on owner relationships than on executives and agents?
Food for thought as we recall that Budapest dinner and digest the window that followed. Will future transfer sagas be scripted at elite tables rather than in boardrooms?