Karl-Heinz Rummenigge provides a refuge for football's disillusioned | Lawrence Donegan

Karl-Heinz Rummenigge's ECA may be the lesser of two bad choices when it comes to football's future. Photograph: Christof Stache/AFP/Getty Images

What is it to be, a punch in the face or a knee in the groin? The politicking, money?grubbing opportunists who run Fifa, or the politicking, money?grubbing opportunists who run the richest clubs in Europe? Sepp Blatter or Karl-Heinz Rummenigge?

The most obvious answer is C (none of the above), but after a footballing week that has seen more sabre rattling than the director's cut of Braveheart, it appears we have to choose sides. There will be no Switzerland, alas, in the coming battle over who controls football, only more of the same from Blatter, Switzerland's very own Mr Magoo.

Fifa's president was at his myopic worst on the eve of the 2014 World Cup preliminary draw in Rio de Janeiro as he laid out a timetable for "reforming" football's world governing body. "We are going step by step ... We are not going to make decisions without contacting the different parts we need to," he said. "There is a lot of work that is already on the table, we have had contact with organisations working in transparency, personalities who work on anti?corruption systems, we are talking to the United Nations, who have this sort of committee."

Thank heavens Fifa have not spent the past year mired in corruption scandals so pervasive that this weekend's festivities were reduced to the status of "welcome diversion", otherwise Blatter might be accused of buying time in the hope people forget the scandals and move on.

Fat chance. Which brings us back to Rummenigge, who in his role as the chairman of the European Club Association has been cast as the lead pallbearer for football's old order. Revolution is afoot, according to comrade Karl-Heinz.

"Sepp Blatter is saying [that he's cleaning up the shop], but the fact no one believes him tells you everything you need to know," he said. "They believe the system is working perfectly as it is. It's a money machine, World Cup after World Cup. And for them, that's more important than serious and clean governance. I don't accept any longer that we [should be] guided by people who are not serious and clean."

Rummenigge has found the ideal candidates to replace Blatter and his allies as rulers of the football world: himself and his friends at the ECA. "I'm ready for a revolution if that's the only way to come to a solution," he said.

The solution is for the ECA – or at least their richest and most powerful clubs – to break away from football's established structures, free themselves and their players from the obligations of international competition and set up what has come to be known through the years as a European Super League.

We have been here many times before, only for the clubs and governing bodies to reach an agreement to maintain the status quo, albeit with a few minor adjustments around the periphery. The most recent entente cordiale was signed in 2008 and will run out in 2014, when there is every reason to believe the urge to break away will be even stronger.

For one thing, Blatter will still be in charge, with all that implies for the prospects of real reform at Fifa. More pertinently, the financial attractions of a ECA-run super league will be even more apparent by then. A few days ago in the United States the five?month dispute between NFL owners and players over money was resolved. The stand-off had been expected to last a year, but that was before the realisation dawned that life in the NFL was simply too lucrative for all involved.

The coming season's revenues are expected to exceed $9bn (?5.5bn) – most of which will come from television. That figure will increase dramatically over the next few years as the TV deals (worth a combined $20bn) run out and are renegotiated. Upwards.

Don't think these negotiations will go unnoticed by Rummenigge and don't think his ECA friends will fail to understand that while the NFL's appeal is vast, it is geographically limited to the US. Football knows no boundaries and nor, one suspects, will the financial expectations of ECA negotiators should they ever find themselves selling the rights to a European super league. Twenty billion dollars may be just about right – as a starting point.

These are obscene amounts of money and it would require an unimaginable degree of selfishness for Europe's leading clubs to pursue their own interests at such cost to their national associations. What would English football be without Manchester United and Chelsea? And Spanish football without Barcelona and Real Madrid?

"It is just going to be a closed [competition] that stays closed forever. How boring is that?," said Malcolm Clarke of the Football Supporters' Federation, dismissing the notion of a breakaway.

Boring? Try telling that to the millions of Americans who cannot live without their weekly dose of the closed league that is the NFL. And try telling that to those who have become thoroughly disillusioned with Fifa and the damage caused by their disreputable antics. Ask these people to take sides and they will go with Rummenigge. He is far from perfect. But he is not Blatter.

The temptation to feel sympathy for a professional athlete is never stronger than when he or she lands in trouble for saying exactly what is on their mind.

Don't we want honesty in our sporting world? Of course we do. It is just that we have a strange way of showing our appreciation on those rare occasions when the unvarnished truth will out, as Rory McIlroy found out when he responded to criticism of his caddie, JP Fitzgerald, from the American commentator Jay Townsend with the tweet heard round the world: "Shut up. You're a commentator and a failed golfer, your opinion means nothing."

For what its worth, Townsend may have had a point about Fitzgerald, and he and McIlroy may have exceeded the speed limit on racy personal insults. But so what? All involved had their say, no one got injured, and the rest of us were made aware that golf isn't quite the cosy little world it sometimes appears to be. I'd call that a good day for the sport.

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Britain's Lawrence Okoye tipped for gold medal in London 2012 Olympics

Britain's Lawrence Okoye, winner of the under 23 men's discus at the Aviva U23/U20 Championships, has been tipped for gold at the London 2012 Olympics. Photograph: Mark Shearman

Among a swarm of holidaymakers at Gatwick airport Lawrence Okoye is initially difficult to spot – until he stands up, all 6ft 6in of him, and stretches out two enormous muscular arms. A wave of heads instantly turn to gawp.

What those holidaymakers will not have realised, however, is that they were looking at a potential Olympic gold medallist, a young discus thrower the likes of which Britain has never before produced, so prodigiously talented that his coach, John Hillier, has earmarked him to win gold in 2012 and one day break the world record.

Those are huge statements for a 19-year-old who began training full-time last September. But his achievements in that short period are so staggering as to merit such predictions having already broken a senior British record, a world-age record, won an Under-23 European gold medal and with a throw of 67.63m earned himself a fourth-place ranking amid the world's best discus throwers this season.

On Sunday afternoon in Birmingham he will compete for his place on the British team that travels to the world championships in South Korea, which start at the end of August. Still, the Croydon thrower is level-headed enough to know not to get carried away.

"The first mistake people always make when they get a bit of success is to get over-excited," he says, matter of fact. "I've seen it before, a young sportsman doing incredibly well and then you don't hear from them again because fame gets to their head and they do things they shouldn't. I could go there on Sunday [the UK trials] and have a shocker and not go to the worlds so I've got to really stay on point and concentrate on what I'm doing. Although I've gone up very quickly, I could definitely come down very quickly as well."

Despite his young age Okoye has already witnessed how quickly sporting opportunities come and go in life. Regretting that he missed out on a promising rugby career with the very best clubs – although he was offered a professional contract at Esher – he is determined to grasp what he sees as a "second chance" to excel in throwing the discus.

"I joined the London Irish academy too late," says Okoye, who as a schoolboy was nicknamed Jonah Lomu. "I just didn't know. My mum's not from this country [she is Nigerian] so she didn't know the structure and system here. I know now what I should have done when I was 15 – try and get to an academy at a young age, but I joined at 18 and that's too late. I regret it in a sense, but I don't regret how things have turned out since."

His rugby playing friends were slightly bemused at his decision to switch to the discus – postponing an offer to study law at Oxford University along the way, and more recently declining an offer from Nebraska College, where his father played American football, for a track and field scholarship – but his remarkable achievements in the most ancient of Olympic sports speak for themselves and Okoye is now one to watch at London 2012.

While some teenagers may feel overawed at such an incredible trajectory of progress, Okoye takes it in his stride. "I never think you can't do something," he says, shrugging. "I've got that kind of delusional mentality, you think you can do everything, you think you're special. I heard Will Smith say that all successful people are slightly delusional. You've got to believe you can do things that maybe you can't do.

"No one's done what I've done. I'm a world record holder, I've thrown further than any teenager's ever done, I've broken the British record, I've won the European [Under23] champs. If I'd told someone I was going to do that last year I don't think they would have believed it. But that's what life's all about, shocking people and doing things that are out of the ordinary. Hopefully I'll keep doing that."

Despite his success, Okoye is acutely aware of his need to gain consistency and a better technical understanding of his event. He describes his gift like a magic touch. "I know it's in my back pocket but I don't really know how to reach for it. Sometimes I can get it out, sometimes it will fall out, but I don't always know what's coming. When I'm able to produce good throws on a week-to-week basis that's when things will really start to feel like they are going well."

Perhaps his biggest achievement to date has been to have invigorated a discipline that for so many years in this country has been wholly overlooked. Great Britain has never won a global or Olympic medal in the discus, and the event is rarely mentioned in the mainstream media. But on Sunday that is all about to change. Okoye has sparked a revolution in the discus – with three other Britons throwing personal bests this summer to post the A-qualifying standard for the world championships – promising a gripping contest at the UK trials as four throwers compete for three places.

His fellow throwers have certainly embraced their new star. Okoye is not just successful, image-wise he is everything the event has been lacking – fit, lean, highly intelligent and young with a Mohawk hairstyle – he is a marketing man's dream. But instead of swooning at these facts, Okoye is modest, stating only that he cares for the event and is determined to raise its profile. "For years British throwing has been very poor. Now it will get on the map. Everyone's been behind me, they want me to do well. They're just happy that a light's been shined on their sport. I want to bring change, it's inspirational for other people and that's what it's all about. I want people to care about discus throwing.

"I didn't know anything about javelin when I was growing up, but I knew Steve Backley. When someone does well you're interested in the sport. It won't just be me, though, Brett Morse is also up there in the world rankings and he's 22. Two British throwers up there, it's unheard of, I'm pleased with where the sport's going."

So how does Okoye explain his aptitude for throwing? Is it a natural skill that he has always somehow inherently possessed? He shakes his head and leans forward intently. "It's not a natural thing at all," he says, emphasising each word. "It's something you're taught, not something you do. It's a very, very technical sport, people underestimate that."

Despite having taken part in the odd schools competition, outside of the rugby season, Okoye says he has had very little experience in perfecting the discipline. "It takes lots and lots of lots of throws in the circle. Right now that's what I'm lacking to be really good. More practise, more training."

It is here that Okoye's scholarly vein becomes apparent as he talks about "studying" the discus. "In the past I wouldn't have been able to name a discus thrower or tell you the world record, but I could tell you every discus thrower in the world now. I've done lots of research and homework. I go on YouTube and spend hours watching throwers, analysing their technique."

The immediate future brings a chance to win a British medal in the discus at the world championships. But Okoye is taking it one throw at a time. "Of course I'd like to get a medal but I'm not going there with that in my head. People have had the world at their feet and then it's all crumbled. I want to go a long way in this sport and surprise a few people."

Okoye will compete at the Aviva London Grand Prix on Friday and Saturday at Crystal Palace. Final few tickets for Friday on sale at uka.org.uk/aviva-series or freephone 08000 556 056

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