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With Premier League clubs reaching the finals of every European tournament and as many as eight teams expected to feature next season, is this the new normal for European football?

The days when Harry Redknapp would grumble about the supposed curse of European qualification now seem to belong in the ‘things Harry says’ category. Premier League sides are now financially far stronger than almost every other European club, and in most cases, their only real competition comes in the latter stages of the Champions League.

Take, for instance, Aston Villa versus Freiburg — a clash between clubs with annual revenues of €450.2 million and €162.8 million, respectively. That’s not an even playing field. No matter how satisfying a win might feel, it’s difficult to call it a fair contest.

Of course, Premier League teams occasionally underperform and lose, but that’s typically the only realistic way their European counterparts can triumph. With nearly half of the English top flight competing in continental tournaments, that dominance seems likely to continue unless clubs are poorly managed or in disarray.

When winning is a novelty, it brings joy. But when it becomes routine, does it still carry the same thrill? Success is enjoyable, but if it comes against teams with vastly inferior resources, how much of an achievement is it really?

From the perspective of other European clubs, this situation must feel demoralising. Imagine knowing your campaign is likely to end the moment you face an English side. A competition is supposed to offer genuine rivalry, yet when one group enjoys such massive financial advantages, it inevitably distorts fairness and competitiveness.

The gap is only widening. Aston Villa’s recent victory is unlikely to be the last of its kind — even Bournemouth now rank as the 26th richest club in the world.

Disparities in wealth have always existed, but never to this extreme. Consider the Conference League final: the wealth difference between Crystal Palace and Spain’s Rayo Vallecano is immense. Though both are top-division outfits, Palace’s €232.5 million income dwarfs Rayo’s €60 million, placing Palace 25th on the global rich list.

If the situation were reversed, English fans would almost certainly claim the competitions were rigged. The reality is that if a Premier League club fails to win at least the Europa League or Conference League each season, it can only be because they’ve wasted their financial advantage or been run incompetently.

It’s like asking a Fiat Panda to beat a sports car in a race. Unless the sports car breaks down, the Panda stands no chance. While upsets happen, they depend on rare and extraordinary circumstances, hardly the foundation of a truly competitive sport.

The commentary around such matches often treats them as battles between equals — but that’s misleading. During Villa’s match, barely anyone mentioned the financial gulf between the teams, which felt disingenuous.

It’s hardly surprising that Paris Saint-Germain and Arsenal, both among the top ten richest clubs globally, have reached the Champions League final. It’s no revelation that money buys success — but what does that success actually mean, and why does football still glorify it?

This entire situation makes a strong case for a European Super League where clubs of comparable wealth can compete, while the rest of football enjoys genuinely competitive tournaments. UEFA could benefit from such a system — fairer contests would likely attract wider interest and engagement, unless fans genuinely prefer predictability and the guaranteed triumph of the rich. Even if they do, the ESL could cater to that audience.

At the very least, UEFA should consider seeding or temporarily excluding the wealthiest 30 clubs from the Europa and Conference Leagues until financial parity improves. Right now, Premier League teams are like a bull rampaging through Europe’s delicate china shop — dominating, distorting, and diminishing the competition for everyone else. When a club wins trophies purely due to financial muscle, it ceases to be a genuine sporting victory — it’s more akin to an adult beating schoolchildren in a 100-metre race at Sports Day.

This relentless pursuit of profit by English clubs is eroding the very essence of football — the passion and unpredictability that made it thrive in the first place. It’s a self-destructive cycle — killing the soul of the game to keep the money flowing.