The billionaire businessman will take centre stage at a function in Sydney on Monday night commemorating Australia's memorable victory over Uruguay in November 2005, an event designed as much to venerate his memory and achievements as it does the players who produced that remarkable performance.

It is quite an extraordinary occurrence, and it's hard to imagine a similarly epic farewell for any sporting official, let alone one whose reign lasted just over a decade – even if it was a revolutionary period in which Australian domestic soccer was reinvented and remade according to a Lowy template.

In years gone by no one cared about the men in suits who ran our games, so often derided as "blazers".

Many were former players (those of that ilk tended to be men who had not been that successful in their sport as the stars usually became coaches or high profile media figures). Others were  people who loved a particular game but were not good enough to play it at a high level.

Still more were lower profile characters driven by a desire to be community servants and to retain an involvement in something they loved.

While a handful were ambitious types who saw an opportunity to be involved on a national or global stage even if their sporting pedigree wasn't that impressive.

But they didn't usually have national, let alone international, profiles.

But as sport has become ever more about money, entertainment and TV and broadcast ratings (rather than enjoyment, participation and a pastime) all that has changed, and we have seen the rise of the professional administrator.

In many cases they are people who would barely know the rules of the particular sport they are working in. But they know how to negotiate TV contracts, stadium deals and marketing agreements and cosy up to governments and politicians: or at least they are supposed to.

Andrew Demetriou was far better known than many of his players when he was the AFL CEO, an administrative career that far outshone his on-field years.

Michelle Payne (now) and Damien Oliver might be the name on the lips of many when racing is mentioned, but even that star jockey and his groundbreaking colleague might now be given a run for their money by Terry Bailey, Racing Victoria's chief steward and the man at the centre of so many recent disciplinary issues.

In the NRL, administrator Ken Arthurson achieved legendary status for his years in the game.

But Lowy is different to all of those.

He never played the game – well, at any level anyway.

He never was the CEO of a club (although he was president of the former NSL powerhouse Sydney City).

And he never was a career administrator.

He owes his place in the administrative pantheon to his enormous wealth – the octogenarian head of Westfield is always near the top of any rich list of Australians – and his political connections.

It was the latter that made him, in the eyes of the federal government and those who wanted to reform the game, the ideal figurehead for the changes which were being mooted in the early years of this century.

Despite having been very much a product of "old soccer", Lowy was in the vanguard of those seeking to break from the past with his chairmanship of the newly established FFA and its new competition, the A-League.

His early years in the chairman's role packed in an enormous number of achievements.

Lowy's presence and contacts made him the ideal midwife for the fledgling league.

His status within the business community and with politicians made him a perfect conduit for the re-launch of the sport, and there can be no doubt that those early years of his rule were momentous.

The league came into being and began to consolidate itself.

The Socceroos qualified for the World Cup (after he made the personal decision to sack Frank Farina as coach and bring in hired gun Guus Hiddink, the highly rated Dutchman) in 2006, and went on to do so again in 2010 and 2014.

He orchestrated Australia's move from the Oceania Football Confederation to the Asian region, personally negotiating with the now disgraced Qatari former head of the AFC Mohammed Bin Hamman to smooth the way. The latter is now banned for life from football after a slew of corruption allegations.

Under Lowy's watch an Australian club (Western Sydney Wanderers) has won the Asian Champions League, and the country has hosted, and won, the Asian Championship: achievements which would have been impossible less than a decade ago.

So there is much to salute Lowy for. Yet his legacy will also carry the taint left by the failed World Cup bid, when Australia blew $45 million of taxpayer money on a fruitless chase to host the 2022 tournament that ultimately – in questionable circumstances – went to Qatar.

Questions about the executives that Australia used to prosecute its lobbying campaign continue to be raised, as do inquiries about the way Australian money was spent in trying to persuade FIFA bigwigs to vote for this country.

FIFA is now collapsing around us. More dirty laundry will almost certainly be washed in public.

Lowy's influence on the game here has been enormous, and like the Sun King that he has been, he will be saluted in style on Monday night.

But the FFA and all in the game will be hoping that there are no World Cup skeletons in the cupboard still to emerge to sully his name when he is gone.