Tonight's Winners Will Lift the World Cup Trophy. They Don't Get to Keep It. — Woody Magazine, Jul. 19, 2026
Tonight, at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, Spain and Argentina decide the 2026 World Cup. When the final whistle blows, the winning captain will climb the podium and raise a golden trophy over his head. For a few seconds, hundreds of millions of people will stare at a single object — once every four years, one of the most-watched objects on the planet.
And then his team hands it back.
Minutes after the celebration, FIFA officials collect the real trophy. What the champions carry home is a gold-plated bronze replica, called the FIFA World Cup Winners' Trophy. The original is flown to a vault at the FIFA World Football Museum in Zurich.
The trophy the captain lifts was sculpted in 1971 by the Italian artist Silvio Gazzaniga. Its body is 18-carat gold, hollow inside; its base carries two rings of green malachite. It stands 36.8 centimetres tall and weighs 6.175 kilograms. Two figures twist upward to hold up the Earth. And one rule is built into it: no country can own it.
It was not always this way. It was the exact opposite.
The first World Cup trophy, from 1930, looked nothing like today's. It showed Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, holding up an octagonal cup, and it was named for the Frenchman who founded the tournament, Jules Rimet. It was not solid gold — silver, plated in gold. FIFA attached a bold prize to it: the first country to win three titles would keep the trophy forever.
Brazil got there first. In Mexico City in 1970, a Brazil side featuring Pelé beat Italy 4–1 for its third title. Under the rule, the Jules Rimet Trophy was Brazil's to keep. And so the only nation ever to own the World Cup trophy outright was born.
But the trophy had already vanished once before. In March 1966, months ahead of the World Cup in England, it was stolen from a public exhibition in London. A ransom note reached the Football Association. A week later, a man named David Corbett was walking his dog, Pickles, near his home in South London when the dog stopped and would not move, nose buried in a bundle of newspaper under a hedge. Corbett tore the paper open and read the names engraved on the base: Brazil, West Germany, Uruguay — the past champions. A dog had found the World Cup. The trophy was back in time for the tournament, and England lifted it that summer.
The second theft ended differently. In December 1983, thirteen years after Brazil had won the trophy for good, thieves broke into the headquarters of the Brazilian football confederation in Rio de Janeiro. The Jules Rimet Trophy was gone from its case. This time there was no Pickles. A few men were convicted, but the trophy was never found.
Its fate is still unknown. The story went that it had been melted down for gold — but the federal officer who led the investigation doubted it. The trophy was plated silver, not solid gold; melted, it would yield little, and it was worth far more whole. He believed it had been sold into the black market. Either way, the outcome is the same. The first World Cup trophy ever made vanished from the one country that owned it forever.
By the time Brazil lost the original, FIFA had already run a design competition and chosen Gazzaniga's model. When the original disappeared for good, FIFA made its decision final: the new trophy would never be handed to any nation, no matter how many times it won. Letting a country keep it forever had ended in losing it forever — so this time, no one would be allowed to keep it at all.
For anything people covet, the surest way to protect it is to forbid owning it. Whatever sits in your hands is eventually stolen, sold, or forgotten. Brazil's display case proved as much. FIFA turned the trophy from a prize to be owned into a seat to be held. A champion puts its name on that seat for four years; it never gets to keep the object.
So is the replica the winners take home a hollow thing? It isn't. Since West Germany in 1974, every champion has brought home that same gold-plated copy. The worth of the real one lies not in the metal left in your hands, but in the few minutes you are allowed to lift it. The name outlasts the moment on its own terms: each champion is engraved on the base of the real trophy, where there is room to record winners through 2038.
Tonight, the captain of Spain or Argentina will raise those six kilograms overhead. A win for Argentina means a fourth title, level with Germany and Italy; a win for Spain means a second star on the shirt. And a few minutes later, the winning captain will hand the trophy back to FIFA. The original will be on a plane to Zurich before the night is out. The champions will be left holding a copy.
The prize that promised "yours forever" also meant "lost forever." Brazil is the only nation ever to win that promise, and the only one to lose it. FIFA has never offered ownership as a prize since. It grants four years of custody. When tonight's captain hands the trophy back, nothing is being taken from him. Something is being passed on.
- FIFA, 'The story of the FIFA World Cup trophy' — Source ↗
- The Associated Press (in The Washington Times), 'How an Italian sculptor created the World Cup trophy that became an icon' — Source ↗
- A&E, 'Brazil's World Cup Trophy Was Stolen in 1983, Never Returned' — Source ↗
- International Business Times UK, 'FIFA World Cup Trophy Facts: How Much It's Worth, Who Made It, and Who Gets to Keep It' — Source ↗
댓글
댓글 쓰기