By its very design, the World Cup is often framed as a stage for the best of the best. Yet, there is a compelling argument that it is actually shaped by those who are the least flawed — or, more specifically, by the team whose weakest link is the strongest. According to this ‘weak link theory’, the outcome may not hinge on stars such as Lionel Messi, Harry Kane, or Kylian Mbappe — each the standout of their respective nations — but rather on the 11th man on the teamsheet, whose influence could prove decisive.

This is particularly true in international football, where the lowest-performing player may not match the quality seen in elite club setups. Without a transfer market or the ability to recruit externally, even in today’s globalised era, national coaches must work within the constraints of their country’s player pool.

The eventual World Cup winner might not boast a single transcendent star, but rather the most cohesive collective unit.

The relevance of this idea feels stronger than ever. Every top contender at this tournament shows some imperfections. It’s possible to imagine a fantasy World Cup-winning lineup built from the best parts of several teams — France’s forwards, Spain’s midfield, Portugal’s full-backs, Brazil’s centre-backs, and Belgium’s goalkeeper. Conversely, one could also assemble some rather underwhelming hypothetical combinations from those same squads.

Thus, the deciding factor could be which side best conceals its weaknesses or suffers least from them — a strategy that has proven its worth before.

Spain’s Euro 2024 victory was a prime example. They triumphed as the most balanced team in the competition, securing the title thanks to Mikel Oyarzabal’s goal in the final. Yet few would argue that Luis de la Fuente’s squad had the most formidable strikers or central defenders in Europe.

France, often labelled co-favourites, now face questions in midfield following the loss of Paul Pogba and Antoine Griezmann’s decline, while N’Golo Kante is well into his thirties. Though they reached the 2022 final with Adrien Rabiot and Aurelien Tchouameni, it’s hard to envision them dictating play as effectively as Spain or Portugal might.

Roberto Martinez’s Portugal may also lack elite centre-backs, particularly when Ruben Dias is unavailable. Ironically, their biggest issue could lie in attack — the position occupied by their greatest-ever player, Cristiano Ronaldo, whose presence may prove both blessing and burden.

England, meanwhile, are in a more stable position up front as long as Harry Kane remains healthy. Their midfield — once their Achilles’ heel, especially evident in the 2018 loss to Croatia — now looks stronger with Elliot Anderson and Declan Rice. However, concerns have shifted to the defence, which recently conceded twice to Croatia in Dallas. The question remains: are these defenders of World Cup-winning calibre?

Across South America, traditional rivals Brazil and Argentina share similar vulnerabilities. Both lack top-tier full-backs, though that didn’t stop Lionel Scaloni’s Argentina from winning in Qatar — thanks in large part to Messi’s brilliance, an example of the ‘strong link theory’ taking precedence. With Angel Di Maria now retired from international duty, Argentina may miss the creative spark on the wings that some competitors possess.

Brazil face additional uncertainty in central midfield, made worse by Casemiro’s struggles against Morocco, and doubts remain over whether they have a reliable No. 9. Germany face a similar dilemma, even if Kai Havertz — more of a false nine — began the tournament brightly with a brace against Curacao. Coach Julian Nagelsmann’s decision to recall goalkeeper Manuel Neuer suggests an effort to strengthen a potential weak point. The Netherlands, by contrast, boast fine defenders but lack the same level of quality further up the pitch compared to their illustrious predecessors.

Throughout history, World Cups have often been won by teams with a generational talent — from Pele and Diego Maradona to Messi and Garrincha — or those who briefly reached such heights, like Paolo Rossi and Mario Kempes. Yet, in more recent editions, champions have succeeded by managing their flaws or masking them effectively. In 2014, Germany shifted Philipp Lahm from midfield to right-back to plug a gap. France captured titles in both 1998 and 2018 despite fielding non-scoring strikers — Stephane Guivarc’h and Olivier Giroud respectively — each serving as selfless foils for more dangerous teammates.

Spain’s 2010 champions perhaps had their least glamorous player in left-back Joan Capdevila, but his consistency ensured he was never exploited. Both Italy (2006) and Germany (2014) thrived by maintaining a uniformly high level across the pitch, even without a single superstar. Ultimately, if a team is only as strong as its weakest member, the secret to lifting the World Cup may lie in ensuring that ‘weak link’ is not a weakness at all.