Early this month, after Sepp Blatter trudged off the stage following his announcement that he would be retiring from the presidency of FIFA, he was followed at the podium by a man named Domenico Scala, the FIFA official who is charged with overseeing the election to replace him. Implicitly acknowledging the furor that prompted Blatter’s departure — the arrests of seven soccer officials in Zurich on corruption charges the week before — Scala said Blatter’s decision “created an opportunity for us to go further than FIFA has before — to fundamentally change the way in which FIFA is structured.” Scala also called Blatter’s announcement “courageous,” saying: “I know that he has truly acted with the best interests of FIFA and football in his heart. I have a great amount of respect for the president and the role that he has played in championing reform within FIFA.”

It was a disorienting scene. Since 2012, Scala has served as chairman of FIFA’s Audit and Compliance Committee, essentially the organization’s chief accountant. He wasn’t implicated in the scandal that brought down his colleagues — much of it took place before his arrival, and the reported secret payments to high-ranking individuals from sports-marketing and lobbying concerns were by definition the kind of thing that wouldn’t have shown up in FIFA’s books. But his praise for Blatter reinforced what many soccer fans feel right now: that perhaps the FIFA leadership currently under F.B.I. scrutiny are not the best people to restore the organization’s legitimacy. And yet it is difficult to envision where exactly real reform might come from.

The source of FIFA’s power is twofold. First, it produces and markets the World Cup, the most lucrative and popular event in human history; ad revenues alone from the last tournament, in 2014, came to $4 billion. Second, FIFA sanctions the national soccer federations of each of its 209 members. Without FIFA’s stamp of approval, a national federation can’t form a national team to compete in the World Cup. In return, FIFA members get an equal vote in FIFA proceedings and an equal share of FIFA revenue. They are subdivided into six regional confederations, and from their ranks are drawn the 24 members of FIFA’s executive committee, who vote on matters like where to hold the World Cup.

This system sets up some obvious problems. FIFA’s leadership is answerable to only the national federations, and the ability of those federations to deliver for their home countries — by landing grants for development projects, for instance, or granting the right to host a soccer tournament — rests on the FIFA leadership’s viewing them favorably. Both sides have fewer incentives for good governance than they have for keeping each other happy.