It shouldn’t be a sideline issue: we all have to tackle sport violence

EVERYBODY knew about John. I first heard about him when my friend’s son and John’s son enrolled in the nursery at a GAA club, and along with the rest of the parents, they would idle on the all-weather pitch for an hour every Saturday morning while their wobbling three-year-olds chased after a ball. There was nothing to set John apart from the rest of the parents – though unlike most of the boys, his son, even then, was showing flashes of a prodigious talent.

But as the boys began to work their way up through the juvenile ranks, John – like his little boy – began to stand out. He would loudly question the teenage referees’ decisions; he would argue with the coaches over taking players on and off; and he regularly barked criticisms at his own son, who was a little star on a team of very small children.

The first time he had a go at another parent – the father of a player on an opposing team – everyone was shocked. The spectacle of one adult man aggressively shouting at another on a football pitch was uncomfortable, unpleasant, unsettling. The boys were about nine at the time. But no-one said anything.

But all the parents knew about John. In the years that followed, if there was a disputed foul, an uncertain wide, a baffling substitution, John would make his feelings loudly, angrily known.

Sometimes, when John was mouthing off, my friend would look at his little boy who just seemed profoundly embarrassed and sad at his father’s behaviour. Still, the other parents said nothing.

As they became teenagers, my friend’s boy would sometimes come home from matches his mother hadn’t been at and before announcing the result, would cheerily ask his mother to guess what happened. John. Always John.

In the end, John punched another parent. Looking back, from the time the boys were barely able to kick a ball, that was always going to happen. My friend’s boy had full chapter and verse – and for a week, the other parents breathlessly shared information through text messages about what had happened. I don’t know if the club took action against John then, but he was never on the sidelines again. And his son, a sparky, gifted footballer who had become a withdrawn and sulky teenager, gave up playing.

In the last six weeks, seven schoolboy games had to be abandoned in the Dublin and District Schoolboys League because of the behaviour of parents. In a report on the worrying trend, the DDSL described ‘mass brawls’ and warned that if the violence at games continues, somebody will die.

This is hardly news. Anyone who attends underage matches – be they in soccer or GAA – will be aware of the escalating problems with mouthy parents. It’s scarcely a stretch to see how that aggression can easily spill over into actual violence.

When this happens in front of small children, it’s distressing, but also deeply affecting – is it any wonder, when so many young men consider it ‘part of the game’ to swing wildly at opponents in the sort of on-pitch brawls that are now marring too many of our adult games?

IF adults behaved in the street the way they do on the sidelines, the gardaí would be involved. So why don’t the same rules apply in the park? That they don’t is simply fuelling what is rapidly becoming a crisis in our underage games. We euphemistically refer to men throwing punches on the pitch as ‘handbags,’ and we gleefully exchange videos and messages about adults’ bad behaviour on our phones and social media. That we do all this in front of children isn’t just reprehensible, it’s downright dangerous. Even as we’re pressing send on the latest scandalous misdemeanour, what message are we giving our children?

By grimly predicting loss of life, the DDSL has done all sporting organisations a favour.

As parents, we need to stop standing silently by while the Johns ruin our games and set our children a terrible example. And as clubs and codes, we need to introduce harsh sanctions on teams whose supporters cannot conduct themselves on the sidelines.

The DDSL is introducing fines and points reductions for first offences, with relegation facing teams whose parents subsequently transgress. It’s a drastic, but necessary action: punish the team and parents won’t so easily stand by when one of their number creates a problem.

We all want our children to play sport. But as parents and supporters, we have a role and a responsibility that’s just as important as what happens on the pitch. The DDSL has kicked off what needs to be a serious debate: it’s high time the rest of us stopped passing the ball.