Scandal? I spy some rampant hypocrisy
WE see them every week on our TV screens, don’t we, footballers wearing the faces of shocked angels, trying to deceive the referee into giving a decision their way, even when they know they have committed the foul or sent the ball out for a corner?
The behaviour is so commonplace it rarely if ever merits a mention from the pundits.
It’s accepted as part of the game rather than considered to be cheating. It is casually ignored even though deliberately trying to con the officials makes the tough job of refereeing a fast-moving game more difficult still.
Woven deep into the fabric of the game is tolerance of players trying to get away with as much as they can in the cause of victory.
Morality? Oh sorry, that’s for more important matters. That’s reserved for the absurd fuss surrounding Leeds United manager Marcelo Bielsa, for the fact he sends someone to watch the opposition team when they are training in the hope of gleaning some information that might help his team win the next game.
Oh yes, that is breaking the
‘moral code’ of football. That is deemed to be unfair.
And that, say some, has to be punished with a hefty fine or even a deduction of points for Leeds. Investigations have been started by both the FA and the EFL into a so-called spy scandal.
Apparently, there are clauses in the regulations which might apply to this situation – catch-all phrases such as the idea that clubs must act towards each other in “utmost good faith”, and the hardy old favourite of “bringing the game into disrepute”. A spy scandal? Sorry, this is not 1960s Berlin and a John le Carré novel.
This is a mere trifle we should be laughing about, something done by great managers in the past from Bill Shankly to Jose Mourinho – for what it was worth then or now.
So, it has not been a routine practice in English football? So what?
Just because it doesn’t fit into the previous convention of our game doesn’t mean it breaks a moral code.
The response of Bielsa is instructive. He is amazed by the furore; he doesn’t think he has done anything wrong.
He is totally open about his conduct – in contrast to those footballers who are forever trying to deceive referees on the field of play where matches are actually won and lost.
Bielsa is also one of the great football managers – maybe not in terms of winning big trophies, but certainly in his influence on generations of coaches around the world.
Two of the Premier League’s current elite bosses, Pep Guardiola and Mauricio Pochettino, both cite him as one of their most profound inspirations.
His excellence is clear in his work in reviving Leeds, a young team playing entertaining, winning football and sitting top of the Championship.
That’s the compelling story about Marcelo Bielsa. And if you really want a discussion about ethics in football, then start with the bane of the modern game – the so-called tactical foul.
We see that in every match on our TV screens, too, the deliberate trip or shirt pull in midfield to stop an opposition counter-attack. It is cynical, negative and destructive – and yet it is praised by pundits like Martin Keown who so strongly condemn Bielsa for breaking football’s ‘moral code’.
The admiration for the tactical foul comes with phrases like ‘he had to do it’ and ‘he took one for the team’.
Sanction from the referee is a yellow card at most – even though it is ruthless and illegal play that ruins one of the most thrilling elements of football
– the swift break – from which so many goals are now scored.
Why does that not break the moral code? Why is this not viewed as contemptible cheating?
Why is it considered an integral part of the game?
Football is clearly brought into disrepute by the widespread prevalence of the tactical foul, but nobody cares and the authorities do not start investigations.
Ethics, you see, are a funny old business in football.
The pundits are rarely bothered to outrage when players surround referees with the hope of intimidating them into changing their minds about some incident or other.
They are divided on the issue of simulation, when players make the most of a faint touch from an opponent by falling to ground to win penalties. Some think this is acceptable because you have to convince a ref to give a spot-kick and if a footballer tries to stay upright the official will not blow the whistle.
Some reckon it is plain cheating. Right and wrong is a matter of interpretation, and this illustrates perfectly how much of modern football is stuck in a moral maze.