MI5 and US Soccer made the same mistake

Think the expensive suburban travel team is the road to the US Men's National Team. Think again.

Only about a third of National Team Coach Pochettino's World Cup 26 came from that affluent club-soccer world. Cristian Roldan was raised in Pico Rivera, a 91 percent Hispanic city, by parents who fled Guatemala and El Salvador. Ricardo Pepi and Alejandro Zendejas are from El Paso. Max Arfsten is from Fresno, played college soccer, and never spent a day in a pro academy. Nineteen of the twenty-six reached this team through a system that charged their family nothing.

The expensive path is not worthless. It produced Gio Reyna and Brenden Aaronson, and Christian Pulisic was a Pennsylvania club kid before Dortmund. It is wildly oversold. The system looked where it expected the talent to be, but the talent was somewhere else.

This is not a sports story. It is the oldest mistake an institution can make, and the UK spies got there first.

In the 1930s, the Soviet recruiter Arnold Deutsch found his perfect first agent in a young Englishman named Kim Philby. Philby was introduced to him by Edith Tudor-Hart, a Viennese communist, photographer, and spy, the subject of Daria Santini's new biography, A Woman Named Edith. MI5 was watching Tudor-Hart. It was watching her fellow Austrian émigrés in Hampstead. And it missed Deutsch's British recruits entirely, the men who became the most damaging spy ring in modern British history. The service could not imagine that idealistic young men from Cambridge would betray their friends and their country for a fashionable ideology. So it watched the working class, but never looked at the elite class.

Two institutions. Two class stereotypes pointing in opposite directions—the same failure.

Every communications strategy makes this mistake in some form, and it is expensive and based on assumptions.

You decide who your audience is, then you spend accordingly. The marquee press hit. The analyst day. The campaign aimed at the room you already sit in. It feels like rigor. It is a stereotype with a budget, the boardroom cousin of "a spy would be working-class." And while you spend time there, the verdict on your company is forming exactly where you assumed it would not.

Stop confusing the audience you can picture with the audience that decides. The outlet your board likes to see is rarely the channel where belief about your company is actually built. Name the audience that moves your license to operate, your valuation, and your ability to hire. Then look at your budget and see how little of it reaches them.

Go where the understanding is forming, not where it is comfortable to be seen. Your reputation is taking shape in your frontline employees, in a regulator's junior staff, in your customers' group chats, and in the AI systems now describing your company to the world without ever contacting you. Those are the Cambridge common rooms of your business, hiding in plain sight, and almost no one is watching them.

Then build the pipeline instead of renting the prestige.

US Soccer's fix was not a better travel team. It was free academies that reached the talent the old system priced out. Yours is direct, owned, durable access to the people who actually shape how your decisions are understood, before the moment you need them.

Enjoy the ride + plan accordingly.

-Marc

The Sporting Caracal Global | May 23, 2026

The Sporting Caracal Global

May 23, 2026 

Sport at the intersection of geopolitics, commerce, and governments. With insights for better communications from an athletic perspective, and a 68.5-foot birdie championship putt.

The cheapest ticket to the World Cup final now runs $2,030, the most expensive seat at the most expensive sporting event ever staged. The hotels built to house the fans who would pay for them are sitting empty. Hold those two facts next to each other, and you have the communications story of the summer.

That is the lens this week. Five stories where the score on the field matters less than who controls the story off it, plus the Person of the Week.

The lead: America is losing the World Cup narrative before a ball is kicked

The story of the week in sport is not a game. It is a set of empty hotel rooms.

The American Hotel & Lodging Association (AHLA) reports bookings well below expectations in almost every host city, and warns the anticipated economic lift may fall short. The AHLA represents more than 32,000 properties and over 80% of franchised hotels in the country, so this is not a fringe complaint. It also directly contradicts FIFA's claim that more than five million tickets have been sold.

That gap is the whole story. The host country wanted a soft-power triumph: a tourism boom, a billion friendly eyeballs, proof that America still throws the best party in the world. Instead, the narrative is being written by empty rooms, a $2,030 entry price, SoFi Stadium workers threatening to strike over ICE deployment, and the fact that Trump handed hosting duties to Andrew Giuliani. Every one of those is a message the host is not choosing to send.

The communications failure is structural. FIFA and the US government are running two different stories, and nobody is reconciling them. Tell investors to expect a World Cup revenue surge in Q3, watch it not materialize, and the press writes the disappointment story for you. Better to walk expectations down yourself, on your own terms and timeline. Pre-empting a bad narrative is cheaper than correcting one.

The Saudi sports story is leaving the arena

Two signals, one trend. The Esports World Cup is leaving Riyadh for Paris, the first time the event has been held outside Saudi Arabia, with Macron personally receiving the Esports Foundation chief at the Élysée. And LIV Golf is reportedly drawing up bankruptcy plans for the end of the season.

Saudi Arabia spent a decade buying sport to buy a narrative: modern, open, a fixture on the global calendar. That works only as long as the money and the legitimacy hold together. LIV is the clearest evidence yet that you cannot purchase a story you cannot sustain, and the esports defection shows the assets walking to a host that offers something Riyadh could not. The lesson is not that the Saudis ran out of money. It is that money was never the part that was failing.

Watch what France did. Macron treated esports like the Olympics, framing state involvement as a national partnership rather than acquisition. That is the difference in communication between sportswashing and soft power. One buys the trophy and tells you so. The other builds the platform and lets you draw the conclusion. France just won that transfer without spending Gulf money.

Britain's one world-beating industry is its best unused message

Arsenal ended a 22-year wait for the Premier League title. Aston Villa won European silverware for the first time in 44 years, dismantling Freiburg away. And The Economist made the point underneath both results: in a country where many things are not working, the Premier League is.

This is the most underused communications asset Britain owns. The national story the UK tells the world right now is decline, dysfunction, and political fragmentation. The single best brand the country exports tells the opposite story: global dominance, ruthless execution, the standard everyone else measures against. Those two messages are running side by side, and only one of them is true at scale.

For UK Inc., and for any company using Britain as a gateway brand, the lesson is that the Premier League is doing soft-power work the government cannot. The country communicates managed decline. Its best export communicates winning. Smart stakeholder messaging borrows from the export, rather than the self-image.

The NAACP boycott is a communications strategy, not a sports story

The NAACP has called on Black athletes to withhold commitments to athletic programs in eight states over redistricting that targets Black voting power, and asked fans to stop buying tickets. Read it as a campaign, not a protest.

The reason it targets sport is precise. College athletes command a narrative that state legislatures cannot control, and athletic programs are the most visible, most sponsor-dependent institutions in those states. By routing a voting-rights fight through recruiting, the NAACP forces a values conversation onto schools and corporate partners who would much rather talk about depth charts and television windows.

That is leverage through messaging, not through a lawsuit. For athletic programs, conference sponsors, and the brands associated with them, the exposure is both real and reputational. The instinct will be to stay silent and hope it passes. Silence is a position here, and a costly one. The operators who fare best will have decided in advance what they stand for, because this fight is designed to make neutrality impossible.

When diplomacy freezes, sport becomes the only open channel

Relations between the two Koreas sit near a historic low. Yet a rare visit by a North Korean soccer team to the South triggered intense emotions among older South Koreans, some of whom openly cheered for the visitors.

That emotional response is the message getting through where official channels are sealed. When governments stop talking, sport remains one of the last functioning channels of communication between adversaries, carrying signals that diplomats cannot send and publics cannot otherwise receive. It is the oldest soft-power instrument there is, and it still works precisely because it looks like it is about a game.

For anyone reading geopolitical risk, this is worth filing. Sporting contact between hostile states is rarely just sport - think Ping-Pong Diplomacy. It is a controlled, deniable, low-cost way to test sentiment and signal openness. Watch who plays whom, and where, as carefully as you watch who meets whom.

Person of the Week: Shai Gilgeous-Alexander

Two MVPs in a row. Now defending an NBA championship. And the hardest narrative problem in American sport: he is, by wide agreement, too excellent to be interesting. They are literally calling him boring.

This is a communications case study dressed as a basketball story. Dominance is the toughest thing to sell, because narrative runs on tension, and inevitability kills tension. The league and the press cannot manufacture suspense around a man who simply wins, so they reach for the wardrobe instead: the fur coats worn without irony, the sunglasses indoors. That is not vanity. That is a market leader manufacturing personality because the product alone will not generate the story.

The lesson travels well beyond the NBA. Any company that wins too cleanly faces the same trap. Execute flawlessly, and you become invisible, then resented, then called dull. The scoreboard stops doing your communicating for you. Gilgeous-Alexander understands, consciously or not, that excellence needs a story bolted onto it. Plenty of dominant businesses never figure that out, and pay for it in the narrative ground they cede to louder, lesser competitors.

Enjoy the ride + plan accordingly.

— Marc


Marc A. Ross | Chief Communications Strategist @ Caracal Global | The Sporting Caracal Global is published on Saturdays.

The Sporting Caracal Global is a weekly memo applying the Caracal Global lens to sport: globalization, soft power, governments, and commerce, resolved on the communications stakes that decide who wins on and off the pitch.

Caracal Global is a communications firm for global business, working at the intersection of geopolitics, commerce, and governments. Specializing in Globalization + American Politics. Intelligence + Strategy + Communications.

Google found its wartime generals with an agentic turn

Three years ago, I wrote that Google had too many peacetime generals.

The argument was not mine alone. It came from Praveen Seshadri's essay on life inside the company. Google had 175,000 capable, well-compensated people trapped in a maze of approvals, launch processes, legal reviews, exec reviews, OKRs, and reorgs of reorgs.

No mission.

No urgency.

A collective delusion of exceptionalism. A soft culture where nothing was worth fighting for.

An environment where what to order at some of the best food in Silicon Valley at Google campus cafés was the biggest decision of the day.

I was rooting for them anyway. I wrote that I trusted they could bring on some wartime generals.

And they did.

The announcement at I/O 2026 is what that looks like.

On May 19, Google did not announce a product. It announced a posture.

Two new models, Gemini Omni and Gemini 3.5 Flash.

An agent-first development platform in Antigravity. Information agents in Search. Gemini Spark and Daily Brief in the Gemini app. A Universal Cart built for agentic commerce. Intelligent eyewear shipping this fall.

The framing throughout was not "here is a better tool." It was "now anyone can be a builder." That is mission language. That is urgency. That is a company that has decided what it is fighting for.

The context makes the turn sharper.

A year ago, Google was the cautionary tale of the AI race, the incumbent that invented the transformer and then watched a startup commercialize it. That story has flipped. By app-tracker data from Apptopia, ChatGPT's app market share fell from roughly 69% in early 2025 to about 45% in 2026, while Gemini's climbed from under 15% to about 25%. The pressure on the former leader became acute enough that OpenAI's Sam Altman declared an eight-week "code red" in December, urging staff to refocus on core products.

The peacetime general does not call a code red. The wartime general does.

For executives, the temptation is to read this as a tech story. It is not. It is a case study in how a large, slow, internally focused organization changes its posture, and how fast the outside world re-rates it when it does. Every incumbent you compete with, advise, or sit on the board of is somewhere on the same curve.

Three things this means for global executives:

First, culture change is a communications event before it is an operational one. Google's announcements worked because they were legible. The market understood the story within hours: lagging to leading, peacetime to wartime. Most companies undergoing a genuine turnaround fail to tell that story clearly, so the change happens internally, and the re-rating never comes. If your organization is changing and your stakeholders cannot describe how, you have done the hard half and skipped the half that pays.

Second, "agentic" is about to become a board-level term, and you should not let your competitors define it for you. Gartner has projected that by 2026, 40% of enterprise applications will embed task-specific AI agents that pursue goals and take actions on behalf of users. That shifts the advantage toward whoever controls distribution and ecosystem access, which is exactly the ground Google just claimed. The strategic question for your company is not whether to adopt agents. It is which platform's agents will sit between you and your customers, and what that does to the relationship you thought you owned.

Third, competing on price is the quiet headline. Gemini 3.5 Flash was pitched at a competitive enterprise cost, a direct move against OpenAI and Anthropic on price. When a dominant distributor decides to compete on cost, margins across the category compress. If your planning assumes today's pricing for AI capability holds, rebuild the model. Assume it falls.

The Caracal Global scope

Tariff volatility. Supply chain disruption. NATO realignment. Increased China competition. AI governance. Export controls. Energy transition. Interest rate uncertainty.

These aren't background noise.

These events are reshaping how your company is understood by the audiences that matter most: boards, investors, employees, customers, regulators, journalists, and the broader public.

The world has changed. The way your company explains itself has not.

Most companies treat communications as the function that explains decisions after they are made. The companies winning in this environment treat communications as the function that shapes how decisions are understood, before, during, and after.

Google spent three years being misunderstood. It took one keynote, told clearly, to change the story. That is not a lesson about AI. That is a lesson about communications.

I'm still rooting for Google. The difference is that in 2023, I was hoping they would find their wartime generals. In 2026, the question for the rest of corporate America is whether you can recognize yours, and whether anyone outside your walls can tell.

Enjoy the ride + plan accordingly.

-Marc

You can always reach me @ marc@caracal.global.

*****

Caracal Global is your communications partner for global business, at the intersection of commerce and governments. We monitor geopolitical signals daily: tariff announcements, military movements, policy shifts, trade negotiations, export control changes, and competitive positioning. We translate those signals into messages that your boards, investors, employees, customers, regulators, and the broader public understand.

Geopolitics + Communications. Intelligence, Strategy, and Communications for Fortune 1,000 companies, private equity portfolio firms, and founder-led businesses operating in an environment of permanent disruption. Detroit-born, with deep roots in the Global Great Lakes region. Active in Washington, DC, and London.

Most companies treat communications as the function that explains decisions after they are made. We treat it as the function that shapes how decisions are understood, before, during, and after.

Caracal Global is your Chief Communications Strategist.

Always Be Communicating.

Learn more at caracal.global.