Empty seats at the World Club Cup shows up the Ibrox fantasy.

Last night, two of the biggest teams in all of world football, Manchester City and Juventus, faced off in a match played in front of a lot of empty seats. They did that in the most lucrative, the most hyped, and the most heavily pushed football competition in history, the FIFA World Club Cup.

Now, I know there’s a general sort of “so what?” air about this tournament. But still, a game between these two teams, on that stage? That should have drawn a full house.

Yet, as with a lot of other games in this competition, there were empty seats everywhere. The TV cameras showed plenty of filled seats in the lower tiers, but the upper sections? They looked a bit like Celtic Park in the early 2000s. Sparse.

A lot of the games in this competition have been played in front of grounds that are notably empty. For a tournament of this scale, that’s extraordinary.

The simple fact is that America, by and large, hasn’t embraced this competition in any meaningful sense. No one really has. But American audiences in particular aren’t all that impressed by it, and they’re not terribly interested in watching it.

The World Cup carries some cachet, so I expect to see a lot more seats sold for that when it rolls around next year. MLS games, too, are played in front of packed stadiums with enthusiastic, engaged crowds.

But unless the matches involve American teams, interest is fleeting. They’ll turn up to watch the superstars—but only in certain contexts, only in certain competitions, and only under certain conditions.

I’ve no doubt the American TV audience for something like the Champions League final is huge. But that interest fluctuates depending on the teams involved. There’s also solid interest in the English Premier League.

But the obstacles facing any club looking to crack the US market are formidable. Unless a club is already well established and well known to an American audience, making that breakthrough is close to impossible. And that came through loud and clear last night, in those empty seats. It’s been coming in loudly this whole tournament.

The US actually has one over on us here. While many Americans are just discovering football and finding they like it, they already have four other sports that draw massive domestic audiences and are deeply woven into the national identity: baseball, hockey, basketball and American football.

These are sports that give America the opportunity for Trumpian chest-thumping—because in those sports, they do have the best teams in the world. I’ve always found it funny when American sports teams call themselves world champions. But they get away with it because, frankly, no one else really plays those games to the same level.

It’s still up for grabs which team is going to walk away with the Club World Cup. But even then, there’s doubt over whether that side can genuinely call itself the world’s best. There are major teams missing from the tournament and while the current and last Champions League winners are present, the fortunes of the top football clubs fluctuate too much to ever be completely sure you’re watching the true “best in the world”—even on a stage like this.

America dominates its sports. No country dominates football. That’s what makes the game global. But because of that, to many Americans, it remains of only passing interest. It’s not a native game. It’s not something they made their own.

You’ll have read, as I have, some of the more hysterical claims from Marathe and others involved in the Ibrox takeover in recent days. Talk of millions of global fans. Fantasies about how if they built a 200,000-seater stadium that they’d fill it.

It’s the same delusion they’ve clung to for over there for years, ever since Hugh Adam tested that theory and found it was garbage. They don’t have a global fanbase. And no matter how many tenuous links they try to forge with the San Francisco 49ers, it will never translate into real interest or money.

By and large, Americans don’t watch football regularly. Those who do will turn out for the global giants—but hardly anyone else. Even with the hype machine in full gear, this tournament has proved just how little ordinary American fans or the global TV audience care. Look at DAZN: they hold the broadcast rights almost exclusively, and no one else really fought them for it. That alone speaks volumes.

The 49ers already own a Premier League club and now hold an interest in a Scottish one. I can see them trying to sell some interest in Leeds, leveraging the EPL’s massive reach to get it done. But that same kind of interest simply doesn’t exist for a club from the west of Scotland.

And here’s another inconvenient truth a lot of people would rather ignore: to know the Ibrox club properly is not to love it—unless you’re one of their own.

They’re not a club that attracts neutrals.

From the sectarian singing in the stands to the bile on their forums, to the image they project by letting the Union Brats run wild with their banners, if you’re not already on the bus, you’re not getting on it.

And the San Francisco 49ers? They come from the most liberal city in the most liberal state in the US. Any potential supporter tempted to learn more about their new partners is going to find out quickly that there’s nothing there to love.

But let’s say it was us instead. Let’s say this link-up was with Celtic. I still wouldn’t fancy our chances of making much more out of it than we already do. Not until we’re playing regularly at Champions League quarter-final and semi-final level. Until then, much of the United States won’t even know we exist—never mind care.

That’s a hard truth. But a truth nonetheless.

American fans have their own sports—sports their country excels at—and most don’t have the time or inclination to follow football. Those who do are far more likely to be drawn to the Premier League than the Scottish Premiership.

We at least have the good sense to realise that. Our club, even with the Irish diaspora behind it, will have done its research, its feasibility studies. And if we’re not opening Celtic shops all over North America, there’s a reason for that. If we can’t do it—we who have genuine global reach—there is no chance that they can.

And if they want a real sense of just how tough this market is to crack, they can replay last night’s match and look at the empty seats. They can replay any game in this competition. Any game, that is, which doesn’t involve an American team. Because those sell out just fine.

That’s the uphill battle nobody in our media wants to acknowledge. It’s a marketing dead end. They’d be better off believing in fairies at the bottom of the garden.