UEFA Licenses are not Equal
Especially for Women
UEFA coaching licenses were designed to standardize football education across Europe. On paper, it’s a structured, merit-based system: C, B, A, then Pro. In reality, it’s 55 separate systems—each with its own rules, gatekeepers, price tags, and biases. And when you look at it through the lens of women’s football, the disparity becomes even clearer.
I hold a UEFA B license. I earned it through application, coursework, on-field assessments, and practical hours—just like anyone else. But the deeper I’ve gone in the women’s game, the more I’ve realized how different the experience is depending on where you are—and whether or not you’re a woman.
Let’s start with cost. A UEFA B in England will cost you around £1,200. In Ireland, it’s roughly €1,500. In Denmark, it’s over €3,000. Yet in countries like Slovakia, Romania, or Croatia, the same qualification might cost €250 to €700. UEFA A and Pro licenses show even greater disparities. A UEFA A in Wales or England can run between €6,000 and €7,500. In Estonia or Spain, it might be €2,000–€3,500. UEFA Pro? In Denmark or the Netherlands, it can exceed €10,000. That’s not a football license—that’s a tuition fee.
UEFA doesn’t regulate the price. National federations do. That alone creates inequality. If you live in a small federation with limited offerings, fewer courses, and high costs, you’re already at a disadvantage. If you’re a woman, the gap gets wider.
In 2025, just 3.2% of UEFA Pro License holders across Europe are women. Roughly 12% hold a UEFA A (or Elite Youth A), and about 30% hold a UEFA B. Those numbers look better than they did a decade ago—but only on the surface. In places like Norway, which leads in gender equity, just 5% of Pro holders and 3% of A holders are women. In Hungary, where I live, women holding A or Pro licenses are so rare that most people in the system can name them individually.
Representation at the top level reflects this imbalance. Of the 16 teams at UEFA Women’s EURO 2025, just seven have female head coaches—a record high, yet still under 50%. In the Women’s Super League, only four of twelve head coaches are women. And according to The FA, just 21% of high-performance coaching roles in women’s football are filled by women—far below their own stated target of 75%.
Why? Because access to UEFA licenses isn’t just about knowledge or ability. It’s about visibility, funding, and systemic bias.
Men are routinely fast-tracked. Former pros without coaching experience are often parachuted into A or Pro courses because they “know the game.” Meanwhile, women with years of youth or club coaching experience are overlooked for the same opportunities—if the courses even exist in their country, and if they can afford them.
This has real-world consequences. If women can’t access A or Pro licenses, they can’t be head coaches in the top tiers. Federations may quietly waive the license requirement for a former men’s player, but they’ll rarely do the same for a woman—no matter how qualified. The result? A glass ceiling enforced not just by clubs, but by the licensing system itself.
UEFA has made some moves. Since 2019, it has awarded over 1,000 scholarships to women for C, B, A, Pro, goalkeeper, and youth licenses as part of its Coach Development Programme for Women. Federations like Wales have launched all-female UEFA B and A courses to improve accessibility. These are important steps—but they’re still the exception, not the rule.
In many countries, courses are held in capital cities only. There are no childcare options, few female tutors, and minimal outreach. Women coaches are left to self-fund thousands of euros’ worth of education—often while working unpaid in amateur environments. And when Pro License courses open, it’s the same story: retired male players take priority, even in the women’s game.
The system isn’t built for women. It’s been retrofitted for them—awkwardly, incompletely, and often reluctantly.
The women’s game doesn’t just need more coaches. It needs better systems to develop them. That means rethinking access, cost, delivery, and recognition. UEFA’s job isn’t just to set the curriculum. It’s to ensure every federation offers equal opportunity to complete it.
We need publicly available federation-by-federation audits—who’s getting licensed, at what level, and with what funding. We need more women on coaching staffs, but also more women teaching the courses, designing the modules, and selecting the applicants. And we need that across all of Europe, not just the progressive North.
The UEFA B was my gateway. But for too many women, it’s still a locked door—guarded by institutions that claim to support equality, yet continue to uphold the very barriers that exclude them.
Coaching isn’t just about tactics. It’s about access. And right now, Europe’s license system still decides who gets to lead—and who gets left behind.