There is something that has been playing on my mind since witnessing the abuse directed at rugby referee Angus Gardner following England’s match against Argentina on Saturday night. We seem to have reached a strange point in sport where some people treat abuse as though it is simply part of the employment package for referees, players and coaches. I’ve lost count of the number of times people have just shrugged and said, “Well, it’s to be expected these days.” – but since when did “expected” become “acceptable”? A decision goes against someone’s team, a player misses a kick, a referee blows a whistle, and suddenly a (hopefully) small minority seem to believe they have permission to unleash whatever anger they happen to be feeling, whether from the stands or from behind a screen hundreds or even thousands of miles away. What makes the treatment of Mr Gardner even more baffling is that it was the TMO who overturned his on-field decision of “try” and yet it was him who was heckled as he walked back down the tunnel at the final whistle – the logic behind that is, frankly, difficult to find.
The fact that the England football team has reportedly said that the next time they are subjected to abuse, they will walk off the pitch should not be dismissed as a dramatic reaction. It should actually make every sporting organisation stop and think, because if players feel that the only way to make people listen is to remove themselves from the situation, then surely something has gone seriously wrong somewhere along the line? This raises many questions in my mind: if a team does walk off, what happens next? Is that them forfeting the match? Are they the ones who face consequences for refusing to continue? Could they potentially be punished or accused of letting down supporters? Or should the question actually be asked of those responsible for creating an environment where players or officials feel they have no other choice?
We already have examples of sport stopping when safety is compromised. Matches are delayed, paused or abandoned because of lightning, extreme heat, dangerous weather conditions or unsafe pitches. We saw this during the Top 14 final this year when conditions meant the match had to be stopped for about 15 minutes due to the potential of lightning strike – nobody questioned whether protecting players was the right thing to do because the safety of players came first. So why do we continue to treat abuse differently?
Why is a physical danger immediately recognised as a reason to intervene, but abuse towards referees, players or officials is often allowed to continue? Do we have to wait until somebody reaches breaking point? Perhaps this is where referees, stadium authorities, national governing bodies and international organisations need to be much stronger. Not after the event or when social media has exploded and everyone is suddenly shocked, but immediately.
A referee should not have to stand in the middle of a pitch absorbing abuse before someone decides enough is enough; players should not have to threaten to leave the field before their safety and wellbeing are taken seriously. The message should come from those in charge: abuse is not part of the spectacle, it is neither “just passion”, nor something people simply have to tolerate because they chose a career in sport. What also worries me is the inconsistency in how these issues are handled. We hear a lot about tackling abuse, protecting people online and creating respectful sporting environments, but the response often appears to depend on who is involved and how much attention the incident receives.
Following the football semi-final on Wednesday, there were reports of a banner referencing the Falklands being displayed. Whatever someone’s personal views on history, politics or rivalry, a banner is not something that appears in a split second because someone got carried away in the heat of the moment. Someone made it and then chose to bring it into a stadium – this raises questions about how governing bodies respond to deliberate acts compared with spontaneous moments of anger.
I am not about trying to remove emotion from sport because nobody wants that. The passion, the rivalries, the celebrations, the frustrations – all of this is what makes sport special, but there is a difference between passion and behaviour that crosses a line.
The question we need to ask is whether sport is genuinely committed to protecting the people who make it possible, or whether we are still waiting until someone has “suffered enough” before we decide that something needs to change. Because respect cannot just be a statement made over a loudspeaker before a match in a “box ticked, let’s go back to corporate” routine. It has to exist from the moment gates open to when the last fan leaves a stadium and beyond; when the referee makes a decision we dislike, when an opponent represents a historic rivalry or when emotions are running high in an internation match – and let’s not forget the role social media platforms play in enabling toxic behaviour to be created and amplified. Otherwise, we are just paying lip service to respect.
It is easy to talk about values before kick-off; the real test is whether we stand by them not only until the final whistle, but on an ongoing basis.
