In defence of the dark art of diving
Every four years, the World Cup rolls around and Antipodean fans see annoyingly fit athletes rolling on the ground as if his vital functions are ceasing. Then come the following questions, which I will attempt to satisfactorily answer while remaining on my feet.
Why do footballers occasionally act like they’ve been stung by a box jellyfish?
Here’s one answer. In a fast-paced game in which the ball is regularly enveloped by a tangle of legs, it’s often difficult to know who is touching whom. Players will feel a clip at an ankle the referee has no chance of spotting and, even if the contact is minimal, go to ground in search of justice in an unjust world.
Here’s another answer: they’re cheating to win football games.
The truth? It’s usually somewhere in the middle, as manager Gareth Southgate explained about a team being praised in the English press as being ‘streetwise’.
“Maybe we’re getting a bit smarter. Maybe we’re playing our game more by the rules the rest of the world are playing. But we kept our dignity and our sportsmanship, and if we went down, it was because we were fouled.”
So pretending to be hurt is fine?
I think there’s a difference. I have zero issue with going to ground to accentuate contact, which is what Southgate is describing. I also don’t really care about a player hitting the deck under the threat of contact, especially if it’s to avoid a good kicking. Clutching the ankle in the hopes of deceiving the referee, getting an opponent booked and infinitesimally increasing their chance to win? Sure, whatever. But it does get ridiculous by the third roll.
Don’t the players care they look ridiculous and ‘soft’?
Not an iota. Observers may ask, how do the players sleep at night? To which the footballers respond: “On top of a pile of money with many beautiful ladies.” On the ‘soft’ thing, though . . . While memes comparing a footballer feigning injury to, say, a hockey player who had their mouth rearranged by a puck are marginally amusing, can we cool it on the question of masculinity? Insisting men must be stoic and impervious to pain, that’s ridiculous. There are myriad ways to be masculine and few involve refusing to wince when something hurts. Pretending to be on death’s door when all’s well is gamesmanship, not an affront to ‘real men’.
But why would fans of other codes be interested in a game with such gamesmanship?
Why would football care what other sports’ supporters think? It’s not really in need of new disciples. There’s an interesting sentiment among some fans of others codes involving a desire for validation. A need that pleads: please like my sport. And I get that — the underdog has to work harder to make its value known. But the top dog ain’t begging for approval. Otherwise Fifa would have tried earlier to eradicate corruption. Or avoided awarding its showpiece tournament to countries with questionable human rights. Or made a concerted effort to clamp down on diving. Unless an issue is actively impairing the bottom line, football is gonna shrug. You either like the sport and abide its flaws for a moment of breathtaking beauty like Belgium’s second goal against Brazil, or you don’t.
What about VAR? Can’t the new technology cut the play-acting?
There are promising signs. Renowned Brazilian thespian Neymar was awarded a penalty for a dive against Costa Rica but, after the decision was reviewed, the call was reversed. Problem being, Neymar wasn’t booked for his troubles, because definitively judging a dive is easier said than done. No number of replays can determine intent. England’s Harry Maguire went down in the Colombian box and, given it was quickly clear he wasn’t touched, promptly picked himself up. Did he dive, or did he move his feet from where he thought contact was coming? Sometimes an incident is neither a penalty nor dive. Even with Neymar, an instant before he unleashed a flop that would have made Fosbury proud, there was the slightest of tugs on his jersey. It’s easy to imagine Neymar felt as much, presumed a more forceful pull was coming and decided to hasten the process.
So are you defending Neymar?
No. Neymar is a ninny.