Manchester City CEO Soriano calls panel verdict 'a Premier League conspiracy theory'

April 11, 2026. Manchester. The afternoon sun streaked across the glass façade of the Etihad Stadium. Inside headquarters, faces flickered onto an internal video call. CEO Ferran Soriano was saying the Premier League independent commission's verdict was 'a conspiracy theory built on a single false accusation.' Manchester City had been found guilty on more than one hundred charges. No fine or points deduction had yet been handed down. The sanctions hearing was separate. I was not on that video call. But the way the internal address leaked told me something: a football club was calling its staff together one by one to say, 'we are innocent, the evidence is ours.' This is not a new tune. For Manchester City, it is a familiar rhythm—allegation, denial, appeal. What is different this time is that the investigation is over. This time, there is a verdict. How far is a verdict from a conspiracy theory? In the Premier League's accounting books, the distance is nine years. Over nine years, more than £900 million in revenue was artificially inflated, the panel found. Money flowed from Abu Dhabi-linked entities under the name of sponsorship, when those deals should have been struck at genuine market value, the commission argued. The verdict used the term 'sham sponsorship'—meaning the deals were not real commercial transactions but conduits for owner funding. The most important thing about this verdict is that it is not a match result. It is a verdict on accounting documents. Football fans understand verdicts through goals, points and tables. But this verdict has to be understood through balance sheets, bank statements and audit reports. Soriano says he has 'irrefutable documents' showing the money did not come from the owner. The commission's documents say the opposite. I have covered the transfer market for many years. I have learned that when a club claims it holds 'irrefutable evidence,' one of two things is usually true: either the evidence really is irrefutable, or it is being quoted out of context. In this case, both are possible. Ferran Soriano has been the club's CEO since 2026. He understands that the phrase 'conspiracy theory,' delivered on an internal video call to staff, is more than legal strategy—it is psychological preparation. There is a risk in alleging a 'conspiracy theory.' It does not win legal battles, but it wins internal battles. It builds staff cohesion and creates an 'us versus them' feeling among supporters. But when you are standing before a sanctions hearing, using the word 'conspiracy' before a commission means shooting yourself in the foot. Because the degree of cooperation is a factor in determining the severity of a sanction. Manchester City chose not to go that route. I have been tracking this club's financial-rules file since 2026. FFP, PSR, related-party sponsorship—these terms are now known even to football fans in Bangladesh, because many of us have written about them. But one aspect of this verdict remains under the radar: the language of the ruling says 'artificially inflated revenue and reduced costs.' The cost-reduction part is less discussed. If a club runs its spending on sponsorship money, that spending is its capital. Now that spending itself is in question. The Abu Dhabi United Group for Development and Investment (ADUG) is the club's ownership vehicle. The verdict states that this ownership's money entered the club through 'sham sponsorship.' This is where the case extends beyond football. It is now a question of state ownership models, sovereign funds and football governance. In European football, the debate over state-linked ownership is long-standing; this verdict adds fresh material to it. I do not blame Manchester City's supporters. I understand them, in fact. If you have always believed your club was built 'on its own money,' and suddenly that money is questioned, it feels like betrayal. Soriano struck precisely at that spot. He knows supporters will not read the verdict. They will hear the tune. And he has set that tune: 'they are against us.' But the question is: those he calls 'they'—the Premier League is also an institution. And the biggest risk for the Premier League in this case is proving that it can hold even its wealthiest club accountable. If it cannot, its regulatory role will be questioned. Manchester City says 'conspiracy.' For the Premier League, the question is 'if we cannot win this case, who will believe us?' I understand Soriano's strategy. He does not want to frighten his staff; he wants to give them hope. At 57, I know that when a leader in crisis says 'we are innocent,' he is not only speaking to outside media—he is speaking to the junior officers, the scouts, the kitchen staff inside. But my caution is this: love can build cohesion, but a commission's verdict cannot be changed by love. It is changed by documents. The most important fact in this piece is that the sanctions hearing has not yet happened. It is a 'separate hearing.' Manchester City stands in two stages—first stage, guilt; second stage, punishment. They lost the guilt stage. The punishment stage has not yet been played. That gap between the two stages is the biggest uncertainty in the club's coming days. Because if you knew your punishment, you could plan. You do not know. So you can only wait. Now imagine: what if the sanction is a points deduction? What if it is a transfer ban? Then next summer, Manchester City's squad-building blueprint will change entirely. They will no longer be able to buy stars from distant markets. They will have to rely on academy graduates. Then the club's identity will shift—from 'the club that wins by spending' to 'the club that fights with its own boys.' Which will supporters love more? The answer is not easy. Let me say one thing. This case is big for football, but even bigger for the rule that underpins what we call football. We all know football is no longer just a game—it is business. But business has rules too. The question now is whether those rules apply equally to everyone. If you seek to punish one club for a £90 million accounting game, you must show the same rigour toward a smaller club. If not, Soriano's phrase 'conspiracy theory' will become true. But my final point is that this verdict is not yet final. The door to appeal is open. If the appeal proves the commission's ruling contained 'errors of law, principle and fact,' the entire verdict could be overturned. Soriano's team is pinning its appeal precisely on those errors. Yet that is the biggest gamble—because an appeal is not an admission of guilt, but if it delays the timing of sanctions, that too is a kind of victory. Today I spoke with some supporters outside the Etihad Stadium. One said, 'I don't know what will happen to us, but Manchester City is our club.' Another said, 'If there's a punishment, we'll stop watching the Premier League.' Both are right. One spoke of love, one spoke of belief. But football never runs on love or belief. Football runs on documents, on accounts, and on goals on the pitch. Forty-one years of my life have passed inside this game. I have watched many clubs cry, many clubs smile. But I have never seen a club walk onto the pitch with its bank statements. That is what I am going to see.