Editorial Vol. 17 No. 3 September 2026
It is with much pleasure that we welcome readers to the September 2026 edition (citation: SLT 2026/3) of our ground-breaking journal Sports Law and Taxation (SLT) and online database https://sportslawandtaxation.com.
The so-called Enhanced Games, which allow competitors to use performance enhancing drugs, under medical supervision, took place, for the first time, in May 2026 in Las Vegas in the United States, and have caused controversy in many quarters of the sporting world.
So, we asked Razia Mahomed of the School of Law of the University of South Africa, Pretoria, to comment on them and below are her observations.
“The Enhanced Games: The pros and cons – reimagining sport or redefining fairness?
Sport has always evolved. What has never changed, however, is society's expectation that the competition we celebrate is, above all else, fair. The Enhanced Games ask us to reconsider whether fairness itself is ready for reinvention.
When the unthinkable became the main event
What if the greatest threat to modern sport is not doping, but the possibility that doping becomes perfectly acceptable?
For decades, the answer appeared self-evident. Performance-enhancing drugs were regarded as the ultimate betrayal of sporting integrity. Athletes lost Olympic medals, world titles, lucrative sponsorships and, in some instances, their reputations after testing positive for prohibited substances. The World Anti-Doping Code became the cornerstone of modern sporting governance, built upon the principles of fairness, athlete welfare and the protection of clean competition. Doping was not merely against the rules; it represented an attack on the very values that sport claimed to uphold.
Then came the Enhanced Games.
On 24 May 2026, thousands of spectators gathered in Las Vegas to witness an event unlike anything elite sport had previously embraced. Competitors openly used performance-enhancing substances under medical supervision. Rather than concealing enhancement, the organisers of the Games celebrated it. What traditional sport had spent decades attempting to eliminate doping in sport suddenly became the defining feature of the Games.
Predictably, reactions were immediate and deeply polarised. To some, the Enhanced Games represented a dangerous assault on decades of progress in protecting athlete welfare and preserving fair competition. To others, they symbolised something entirely different: an overdue challenge to sporting traditions that, they argued, had become increasingly inconsistent, commercially selective and scientifically outdated.
My initial reaction, like that of many sports lawyers and administrators, was one of scepticism. It is difficult to ignore the potential risks of normalising performance enhancement or the possibility that financial incentives could encourage athletes to place their long-term health in jeopardy. Yet the more I considered the debate, the more I realised that dismissing the Enhanced Games as little more than a "steroid Olympics" risks overlooking the far more significant questions that they force us to confront.
Perhaps the true legacy of the Enhanced Games will not be the records they produced, but the assumptions they compelled us to re-examine.
What, exactly, is modern sport trying to protect?
Why the Enhanced Games have found support
It is easy to caricature supporters of the Enhanced Games as simply advocating for doping. That simple characterisation, however, overlooks the complexity of their arguments.
The organisers have deliberately positioned the Games as a challenge to what they regard as the inconsistencies of modern elite sport. Their central claim is deceptively simple: elite athletes already compete in an environment shaped by science, technology and medicine. Nutrition is carefully engineered. Recovery programmes employ sophisticated medical interventions. Biomechanical analysis, altitude simulation, cryotherapy, genetic screening and data analytics have become routine components of elite performance. Wealthier sporting nations invest millions in technologies unavailable to many developing nations.
In that context, supporters ask an uncomfortable question. If elite sport already embraces scientific enhancement in almost every conceivable form, why is pharmacological enhancement treated as fundamentally different?
It is a question that deserves more than a dismissive response.
The organisers also invoke one of the most powerful principles recognised by modern legal systems: personal autonomy. Adults routinely make decisions involving significant physical risk. Boxing, mixed martial arts, mountaineering, Formula One motor racing and ultra-endurance events all expose participants to dangers that society nevertheless permits because informed adults are generally considered capable of making decisions about their own bodies.
If an athlete fully understands the medical consequences of enhancement and chooses to compete under those conditions, should sporting authorities, or even the state, prevent that decision?
Whether one agrees with the conclusion or not, the question reflects a broader societal debate about bodily autonomy and the increasing acceptance of technologies that extend human capabilities beyond traditional therapeutic purposes.
Supporters also argue that the Enhanced Games expose an uncomfortable economic reality. Elite athletes generate extraordinary commercial value, yet relatively few enjoy financial security. Careers are often short, injuries common and opportunities limited. By offering unprecedented prize money – the Games offer a total of US$ 500,000 (around € 440,000) for each individual event and US$ 250,000 (around € 220,000) for first place – and rewarding record-breaking performances, the organisers contend that they are creating a model in which athletes receive compensation more closely aligned with the risks that they willingly assume.
These arguments should not be dismissed lightly. Indeed, they expose genuine tensions within contemporary sport, tensions that many governing bodies have perhaps been reluctant to acknowledge.
But here is where I begin to have reservations
Acknowledging the strengths of an argument does not require accepting its conclusions.
What troubles me most about the Enhanced Games is not that they challenge the anti-doping system. Healthy debate should always be welcomed. Rather, it is the possibility that enhancement may gradually shift from being a voluntary choice to becoming an economic necessity.
Sport has never existed in isolation from financial pressures. Professional athletes make career decisions influenced by sponsorship, prize money, endorsements and commercial opportunities. Yet, there is an important distinction between competing for financial reward and feeling compelled to alter one's physiology in order to remain competitive.
Imagine two equally talented young sprinters. One chooses to remain within traditional anti-doping programmes, competing for established titles under the World Athletics framework. The other accepts an invitation to compete in the Enhanced Games, attracted by significantly greater financial rewards and public attention. If enhancement ultimately becomes the pathway to commercial success, can we still describe the decision to remain "clean" as entirely voluntary? That question cannot be answered simply by referring to informed consent.
Consent has always occupied an important place within both law and sport. Athletes willingly accept risks every time that they step onto a rugby field, enter a boxing ring or participate in contact sport. Yet consent becomes more complicated when economic incentives begin influencing the choices that individuals make about their own health.
The possibility that athletes may feel compelled to enhance, not because they wish to, but because they fear being left behind, raises concerns that extend well beyond individual autonomy. It introduces the prospect of structural pressure, where participation in enhancement becomes less a matter of choice than of professional survival.
Medical supervision undoubtedly reduces certain risks. Nevertheless, it cannot eliminate the long-term physiological uncertainties associated with many performance-enhancing substances. Scientific understanding continues to evolve, particularly where prolonged use is concerned. Today's medically supervised enhancement may become tomorrow's unforeseen health crisis. For me, this is where the ethical balance begins to shift. The debate is no longer simply about freedom: it becomes a debate about responsibility.
Is it still sport?
Perhaps we have been asking the wrong question all along. Much of the debate surrounding the Enhanced Games has focused on whether athletes should be allowed to use performance-enhancing drugs. Whilst that question is important, I am not convinced that it is the one that will ultimately define the future of sport.
The more fundamental question is this: what exactly are we celebrating when we celebrate sporting excellence?
Throughout history, sport has continually evolved. Amateurism has given way to professionalism. Advances in sports medicine have transformed injury rehabilitation. Carbon-plated running shoes have reshaped distance running. Polyurethane swimsuits have produced a wave of record-breaking performances before they were eventually prohibited. Even debates surrounding athletes, such as Caster Semenya and Oscar Pistorius, have demonstrated just how difficult it can be to define a truly level playing field. Every generation has been forced to confront technological or scientific developments that challenge existing notions of fairness.
The Enhanced Games are simply the latest chapter in that story. The difference, however, is that enhancement is no longer incidental to competition, it becomes the competition itself.
Supporters argue that this represents the natural evolution of elite sport. They see enhancement as another tool through which human beings continue to push the boundaries of performance. In their view, resisting scientific progress is both unrealistic and unnecessary. I am less persuaded.
Elite sport has never been solely about producing the fastest times or the greatest distances. It has also been about celebrating qualities that resonate far beyond the field of play: discipline, resilience, sacrifice and the extraordinary capacity of the human body to perform under pressure. Those achievements inspire because they are widely perceived to reflect human endeavour rather than biomedical optimisation.
If pharmacological enhancement becomes an accepted determinant of success, public admiration may gradually shift away from athletes themselves towards the scientific interventions that made their performances possible. That does not necessarily diminish the achievement, but it arguably transforms the nature of what is being celebrated.
Perhaps the Enhanced Games are not redefining traditional sport at all. Perhaps they are creating an entirely different form of competition. That distinction matters.
Why the law cannot afford to ignore the Enhanced Games
As a lawyer, I find the legal implications of the Enhanced Games even more compelling than the ethical debate. History demonstrates that sport often evolves far more quickly than the law. Every major innovation, whether technological, commercial or medical, eventually raises legal questions that existing regulatory frameworks were never designed to answer. The Enhanced Games are unlikely to be an exception.
If an athlete suffers long-term harm after participating in an enhancement programme approved by event organisers, where does responsibility ultimately lie? Can organisers rely upon contractual waivers and informed consent to shield themselves from liability, or will courts conclude that certain duties cannot simply be signed away?
Medical professionals may also find themselves navigating unfamiliar territory. Their professional obligations traditionally centre upon protecting the health of patients. Yet, in an environment where enhancement itself becomes the objective, the distinction between treatment and performance optimisation becomes increasingly blurred. The question is no longer whether enhancement can occur safely, but whether medical ethics comfortably accommodate such a role.
Commercial relationships present another layer of complexity. Sponsors increasingly market themselves through messages of health, integrity and responsible sporting values. How will those relationships evolve if athletes simultaneously compete in enhancement-based events? Similarly, insurers may begin reassessing the risks associated with covering athletes who voluntarily participate in competitions where enhancement is not merely permitted but encouraged.
These are not speculative legal puzzles designed to stimulate academic debate. They are practical questions that sporting organisations, insurers, lawyers and courts may soon be required to answer. In many respects, the Enhanced Games may become a legal experiment every bit as much as a sporting one.
Governance beyond the World Anti-Doping Code
The debate also exposes a broader challenge facing international sport: governance. For decades, the World Anti-Doping Agency and the International Olympic Committee have shaped a relatively coherent global regulatory framework. Whilst not without criticism, the World Anti-Doping Code has provided a common set of rules across most international sporting competitions.
The Enhanced Games deliberately reject that model. Whether one supports or opposes their approach, the emergence of parallel sporting systems raises difficult questions that extend beyond doping:
– Could an athlete compete successfully in the Enhanced Games and later return to Olympic competition?
– Should performances achieved under enhanced conditions be recognised alongside conventional world records?
– Will future generations distinguish between "natural" and "enhanced" records, or will entirely separate systems of recognition emerge?
These questions may appear theoretical today. History suggests otherwise. Every major disruption in sport eventually requires governing bodies to adapt. The Enhanced Games may ultimately compel international sports federations to clarify issues that have previously remained comfortably hypothetical.
What does this mean for South Africa?
Although the Enhanced Games originated in the United States, their implications extend well beyond Las Vegas. South Africa has consistently demonstrated its commitment to clean sport through its adherence to the World Anti-Doping Code and the work of the South African Institute for Drug-Free Sport. Yet, if South African athletes are attracted by the financial opportunities offered by future Enhanced Games, domestic sporting bodies may soon confront questions for which there are no straightforward answers.
Participation in a lawful international competition may nevertheless conflict with federation rules, athlete contracts or sponsorship agreements. Sports governing bodies may face increasing pressure to determine whether participation alone should affect eligibility for traditional competitions. Sponsors will need to consider whether enhancement aligns with their corporate values, whilst policymakers may be required to revisit existing regulatory frameworks to address a sporting landscape that no longer fits comfortably within established anti-doping structures.
Whether South African athletes will ultimately embrace the Enhanced Games remains uncertain. What seems far more certain is that South African sports law will not remain untouched by the debate. Waiting until the first legal dispute reaches our courts may prove to be waiting too long.
So, where do I stand?
Having considered both sides of this debate, I believe that the Enhanced Games have already achieved something significant. They have exposed inconsistencies within elite sport that governing bodies can no longer afford to ignore. They have challenged us to think more carefully about autonomy, scientific progress, commercialisation and the future of athlete welfare. For that reason alone, they deserve to be taken seriously.
But acknowledging the value of the debate should not be confused with endorsing the model. For me, the greatest strength of sport has never been its ability to produce superhuman performances. It has been its capacity to celebrate what ordinary human beings can achieve through extraordinary commitment, discipline and perseverance. Once pharmacological enhancement becomes an accepted expectation rather than an exceptional violation, the balance begins to change. The pressure to enhance may gradually become less a matter of genuine choice than of professional necessity, particularly for athletes whose careers and livelihoods depend upon remaining competitive. That is a future I find difficult to embrace. The Enhanced Games may ultimately succeed as a commercial enterprise. They may even develop a loyal following and establish themselves as a permanent feature of the sporting landscape. If they do, I suspect that they will coexist alongside, rather than replace, traditional sport. Perhaps that will become their greatest contribution.
Rather than destroying elite sport, the Enhanced Games may force us to define more clearly what elite sport is intended to preserve. They compel us to confront an uncomfortable truth: the debate has never been solely about doping. It is about the values that underpin competition, the responsibilities that we owe to athletes and the kind of excellence that we choose to celebrate. In the years ahead, scientific advancement will continue to blur the line between therapy and enhancement, between natural ability and engineered performance. The law will evolve, governance structures will adapt, and sporting institutions will continue to wrestle with questions that today seem unprecedented.
Yet one question will remain. When future generations look back on this moment, will they remember the Enhanced Games as the beginning of a new era in sport, or as the moment society paused to reaffirm that the greatest performances are measured not only by how fast we run, how high we jump or how much we lift, but by the values that give those achievements their meaning? Ultimately, that may be the most important competition of all!”
2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup
The FIFA Men’s World Cup, which was held from 11 June to 19 July 2026, was jointly hosted by Canada, Mexico and the United States. For the first time, the tournament featured 48 teams, with Curaçao, Cape Verde, Jordan and Uzbekistan making their debuts. Because of the heat conditions, there were mandatory three-minute hydration breaks, which enabled broadcasters to cash in with commercials. There were also high-ticket prices and the intervention by President Trump to get Florian Balogun's red card suspended. FIFA reportedly earned US$ 15 billion (around € 13 billion) from the tournament.
Since then, there has been the controversy regarding the planned sale to private investors of 20% in FIFA competitions, including the World Cup, which, after a widespread outcry from the football world, was aborted, with calls for the President of FIFA, Gianni Infantino, who hatched the plan without apparently consultation, to resign.
We include, in this issue, an article on this subject by David Egan, in which he reviews the relevant FIFA Statutes and Regulations and their application to the role of the President and the need for further reform of them. He even suggests introducing a revolving presidency similar to that in the European Union.
2026 English football summer transfer window record signings
The 2026 English summer transfer window ran from 15 June to 1 September, and within a month of its opening, Elliot Anderson and Morgan Rogers have broken the record for being the most expensive English players of all-time.
Anderson moves from Nottingham Forest FC to Manchester City FC with a price tag of £ 116 million (around € 135.8 million) and Rogers moves from Aston Villa FC to Chelsea FC with a price tag of £ 117 million (around € 136.9 million). Both players are midfielders, 23 years old and on top form.
At the European level, mention may be made of the transfer of the Ivory Coast winger Yan Diomande from RB Leipzig to Real Madrid, reportedly worth £ 120 million (around € 140.3 million), including add-ons, following interest expressed by Paris St-Germain and Liverpool FC. And also of the transfer of the Portuguese winger Rafael Leão from Milan to Galatasaray for a fee of £ 36.8 million (around € 42.9 million).
Articles in this issue
We now turn our attention to the articles which we publish in this issue of SLT.
On the sports law side, we would mention the article by Ivo Batelaan on sporting succession in football. He introduces the subject as follows.
“The doctrine of sporting succession has become a recurring issue in international football law.
Sporting succession may be defined as the situation in which a new legal entity, the sporting successor, is held liable for obligations of a separate previous legal entity, the original debtor, because it is to be regarded, in sporting terms, as a continuation of that previous club.
In recent years, FIFA decision-making bodies and the Court of Arbitration for Sport (“CAS”) have been confronted with a growing number of disputes in which players, coaches, clubs or other creditors sought to hold a newly established or restructured club liable for debts incurred by an old club. These disputes arise against the background of a football economy in which clubs may be dissolved, lose their licence, enter insolvency proceedings or return under a new legal structure, whilst their sporting identity, fan base and commercial value remain largely intact.
Between 2020 and 2025, both FIFA and CAS have further refined the criteria for identifying a sporting successor. At the same time, recent jurisprudence has also exposed the limits of the concept, particularly in relation to creditor diligence, limitation periods and arbitral jurisdiction. Most notably, the Swiss Federal Tribunal (“SFT”) has recently clarified that, although sporting succession is not incompatible with international public policy, it does not, as a concept of lex sportiva, automatically form part of Swiss law for jurisdictional purposes. It cannot, by itself, extend an arbitration agreement to a non-signatory successor club beyond the framework of art. 178 of the Federal Act on Private International Law (“PILA”).”
And he concludes his article as follows:
“In conclusion, sporting succession is a necessary doctrine within international football law. It prevents a new club from taking on all the positive elements of an old club – its name, colours, logo, stadium, fan base, history and commercial value – but leaving behind the financial obligations of that old club.
However, the assessment remains casuistic. There is no closed list of conditions. Public perception, competition continuity and asset transfer are at the heart of the analysis, but no single criterion is decisive on its own. It is about the overall picture: does the new club act as a continuation of the old club; does it benefit from its sporting identity; and is it seen, as such, by the public and the football market?
In addition, sporting succession does not require fraudulent intent. The question is not whether the new club has abused legal personality, but whether it has taken over the sporting legacy of the old club. Those who use the benefits of that inheritance can also be confronted with the burdens. At the same time, the doctrine should not serve as a safety net for passive creditors.
In disciplinary enforcement cases, the creditor must, in principle, do what is reasonably possible to recover his claim from the original debtor. However, that duty is not absolute. Where redress is factually hopeless, hidden or legally impossible, an appeal to lack of due diligence cannot simply succeed.”
We would also mention the article by Serdar Bezen and Hatice Yalçıntürk on The impact of the Ali Rıza and others v. Turkey case on the Constitutional Court’s latest ruling. They introduce the subject as follows.
“Dispute resolution in Turkish football continues to evolve in response to ongoing legal, institutional and regulatory developments affecting the governance of football and the operation of the Turkish Football Federation (“TFF”) judicial bodies.
In our previous article published in the March 2026 issue of Sports Law and Taxation (at pages 20-23), we examined the dispute resolution framework in Turkish football, with particular focus on the structural deficiencies of the TFF Arbitration Board (“Arbitration Board”) and the landmark judgment of the European Court of Human Rights (“EctHR”) in Ali Rıza and Others v. Turkey. We noted that the appointment of the Arbitration Board members exclusively by the TFF Executive Board raised fundamental concerns about independence and impartiality, and we indicated that whether any structural reform were to follow the ECtHR ruling would be a subject for a future article.
On 2 April 2026, the Constitutional Court of Türkiye (“the Court”) Decision, numbered 2025/131 and dated 17 June 2025 (“the Decision”), was published in the Official Gazette, a ruling of far-reaching constitutional significance for the governance of Turkish football. The Court annulled the language in art. 6(2) of Law No. 5894 on the Establishment and Duties of the Turkish Football Federation (“the Law”), specifically the phrases “by the Executive Board” (Yönetim Kurulu tarafından) and “Executive Board decision” (Yönetim Kurulu kararı), which conferred upon the TFF Executive Board the exclusive authority to select and formally appoint the members of the Arbitration Board. The Constitutional Court ruled this provision to be incompatible with the constitutional right to a fair trial guaranteed under art. 9 and 36 of the Turkish Constitution, read in conjunction with art. 59(3) of the Constitution, which enshrines mandatory sports arbitration.
This article examines the Court ruling on the independence and impartiality of the Arbitration Board within the broader jurisprudential context and highlights the devastating effect that protracted arbitration proceedings have on the careers of professional footballers and the urgent need for reform that places athletes’ fundamental rights at the centre of the institutional design.”
They conclude their article as follows.
“The Constitutional Court Decision No. 2025/131 is a landmark moment in the history of Turkish sports law. By annulling the provisions that conferred upon the TFF Executive Board the exclusive authority to select and appoint members of the TFF Arbitration Board, the Court has confirmed the structural critique that the ECtHR articulated in Ali Rıza and Others v. Turkey five years earlier. The Decision vindicates the position that we advanced in our previous article and creates a genuine legislative imperative to reform the Arbitration Board institutional architecture.
However, the Decision also stands incomplete. It addresses the most visible symptom of the Arbitration Board structural dependence, but without fully confronting the procedural and temporal consequences of institutional failure. The experience of Ali Rıza and others like him demonstrates that the damage inflicted by a structurally compromised arbitral body is not limited to the risk of biased outcomes, it extends to the prolongation of proceedings and the consequent destruction of the career opportunities that the right to a fair trial is supposed to protect.
The nine-month window that the Court has provided for legislative reform to enter into force is an invitation to address both the appointment mechanism and the procedural framework within which the Arbitration Board operates.
The legislature should use that window to enact reform that is ambitious enough to satisfy the ECtHR requirements, inclusive enough to represent the interests of all football stakeholders and procedurally rigorous enough to ensure that justice in Turkish football is not only impartial, in theory, but also swift and effective, in practice.”
On the sports tax side, we would mention the article by Alara Efsun Yazıcıoğlu on Tax exemptions for UEFA competitions hosted in Türkiye. She introduces the subject as follows:
“Türkiye is hosting three major UEFA football events over a period of approximately six years; namely the 2026 UEFA Europa League Final, which was played in Istanbul on 20 May 2026; the 2027 UEFA Conference League Final, to be played in Istanbul on 2 June 2027; and UEFA EURO 2032, to be co-hosted with Italy. Two special tax provisions were introduced in connection with these events by Law No. 7566. Art. 15 of the Law inserted provisional art. 46 into Value Added Tax Law (“VATL”), whilst its art. 30 inserted provisional art. 18 into Corporate Income Tax Law (“CITL”). The first provision introduces a VAT exemption to event-related supplies of goods and services; whereas the second exempts event-related Turkish-source profits and income from corporate income tax.
Both provisions have the same personal scope. They cover the Union of European Football Associations (“UEFA”), participating teams and legal entities responsible for the events’ organization, that have no permanent establishment, registered office or place of effective management in Türkiye. For the sake of simplicity, the term “covered persons” is used throughout this article, when the reference is made to all persons entering into the personal scope of application of the provisions.
First the VAT exemption, then the corporate income tax exemption is examined. Following the examination of the exemption regulations, the position of sportspersons is briefly discussed.”
She concludes her article as follows
“The specific exemption rules enacted by Türkiye allow for a broad VAT and corporate income tax exemption. Sportspersons, however, do not benefit from an exemption and remain taxable under the ordinary regime.
Considering that Türkiye has offered a notably beneficial tax regime to sportspersons (to the point of being portrayed as a “tax haven for sportspersons”) through a preferential fixed-rate withholding system for a long time, this policy choice is rather surprising.”
We would also mention the article by Dr. Karolina Tetłak on Determining Employment Status in Professional Sport under the New Labour Inspection Procedure in Poland. She summarises her article as follows:
“Poland has recently introduced an administrative procedure under which the National Labour Inspectorate (Państwowa Inspekcja Pracy, “PIP”) may determine that work formally performed under a civil-law contract is, in fact, employment. This article examines how the procedure may apply to professional team sport. Athletes in Poland may be engaged under employment contracts, civil-law contracts or business-to-business arrangements, whilst clubs and federations regulate training, competition, registration, discipline and transfers. The article argues that professional sport should remain subject to generally applicable labour law, but that classification must distinguish sporting coordination from labour subordination. It also examines the tax, social security and sporting consequences of reclassification. It, therefore, calls for a sector-specific employment framework and coordinated guidance, while rejecting both a general exemption for sport and an irrebuttable presumption of employment.”
And she concludes as follows.
“Since 8 July 2026, Poland’s new labour-inspection mechanism has generated complaints, inspections, written instructions, voluntary conversions and individual interpretations. According to the first official report, it had not yet produced an administrative employment-status decision, and no publicly documented case involved professional sport. Reclassification of an athlete’s contractual relationship is, therefore, a legal possibility rather than an observed market event.
Professional team sport nevertheless presents a difficult classification problem. Player contracts combine extensive control with the coordination required for team competition, whilst athletes differ in their bargaining power and preferred contractual arrangements. Classification is further complicated by sports rules governing arbitration and transfers and by the different tests applied under labour, tax and social-security law.
The decisive question is whether a player works within the club’s undertaking under hierarchical control and without meaningful entrepreneurial risk, or provides genuinely independent services subject only to the coordination required by team competition.
PIP now has the power to determine employment status. The statute specifies the effects of an administrative decision from the date of issue, but it does not provide a complete procedure for tax and contribution corrections following a retrospective judicial determination or explain how reclassification affects registration, transfers and sports arbitration.
A sport-specific employment framework and coordinated sectoral guidance would address these gaps more effectively than either a general exemption for sport or an irrebuttable employment presumption.”
As you will see from the Table of Contents of this issue, we include, in addition to the articles mentioned above, a wide range of topical sports law and sports tax articles, which, we believe, will once again engage our readers’ attention and provide them with much “food for thought”.
As always, we would welcome and value our readers’ contributions in the form of articles and topical case notes and commentaries for our journal and also for posting on the SLT dedicated website https://sportslawandtaxation.com, which covers important sports legal and tax developments and issues, and also CAS Media Releases and CIES (Centre for International Sports Studies) Weekly Reports.
So, now read on and enjoy the September 2026 edition of SLT.
Dr. Rijkele Betten (Managing Editor)
Prof. Dr. Ian S. Blackshaw (Consulting Editor)
September 2026
