The organizers of a European 

soccer league didn’t believe 

in their idea enough to defend it.

That is exactly right.

...Monday, less than a day into their brave new world, they had lost the governments, and they had lost the European Union. Not long after, they lost the television networks that, ultimately, would have had to pay for the whole thing.

Then they lost the players and the managers, the stars of the show they were hoping to sell around the globe so that they might grow fatter still on the profits: first Ander Herrera and James Milner and Pep Guardiola and Luke Shaw and then, in a matter of hours, dozens more, whole squads of players, breaking cover and coming out in opposition to the plan.

By Tuesday, there was scarcely anyone they had not lost. They had lost Eric Cantona. They had lost the royal family. They had lost national treasures. They had even lost the luxury watchmakers, and without the luxury watchmakers, there was nothing left to lose but themselves. [And that tickled me so that I broke into a 360 degree smile.]

...

...how easily those who had designed it and signed on to it seemed to capitulate. It is not just that they lost the fans, the leagues, the broadcasters and the sponsors. It is that at no point did they seem interested in even trying to win them over.

[Exactly right, again. They didn't try to sell it--it was eminently salable--hell, they didn't even try to explain it. It was a tournament, okay? A counter to the Champions League. It was never a round-robin thirty-eight game league that would threaten, much less replace, the national leagues. Instead of Barca and Madrid playing El Clásico dos in La Liga they would, perhaps, more than likely, have played a third or fourth time in the Super League! The Gang of Twelve did not even make that critical, absolutely game, set, match, critical distinction clear in explanation. They didn't do any explaining! They issued a fucking press release at 11 p.m. Sunday. Pathetic.]

...

And yet, in the Super League’s 48 hours of existence, only one of its architects spoke publicly: [Real Madrid president Florentino] Pérez, giving an interview to “El Chiringuito,” a gaudy, late-night Spanish sports talk show, the equivalent of announcing the onset of war on the shopping channel. In a way, he deserves a little credit for that, for the willingness to own his decision. [Oh my God, lol.]

By contrast, none of his colleagues and co-conspirators uttered a word: not to the news media, not to the fans...

There was no attempt to sell the idea, no attempt to outline the benefits, as they saw them. A high-profile public relations firm in London had been hired to handle the launch, and yet as the criticism grew more voluble and more shrill and more ferocious, there was no response whatsoever, no attempt to shape a more favorable narrative.

...nothing about this project seemed complete....It was all, in some way, unserious:  [I was going to take exception to "unserious" but on reflection it was announced by press release Sunday night at 11 o'clock in obvious attempt to upstage UEFA's announcement of Champs League expansion Monday.]

There was a cobbled-together website, an uninspiring logo... [What didn't you like about the custom car paint accents and the George Jetsen Saturn graphic?]

...and an American banker, but no broadcaster, no suite of sponsors and, in the end, no commitment to see any of it through.