Racism in football -another way of dealing with the bully boys.

“Well, something must be done.” It’s the standard reply to every crisis. For most, however, the priority is merely to express the requisite level of outrage to show they care. Some are keen to ensure “something” is done, but they rarely dig deeper to assess whether the response actually deals with the underlying issue. That’s where we are with the current “crisis” of racism in football. Most “initiatives” are little more than gestures. There is another way.

September 1971. My first day at secondary school – I was tall for my age but geeky and painfully shy. A decent target for the school bully. It’s only looking back that I remember he barely looked at me as he grabbed at my sweater, pulled my tie and shoved me around. He was checking for an audience – hoping that someone would spot his macho posturing. Then I spotted the kid standing behind him. He smiled at me, gave a thumbs up and a wink – then went down on all-fours immediately behind my tormentor. The invitation was clear – I shoved the bully in the chest, one step back, he tumbled over my saviour and landed in an ungainly heap on the grass, never to come near me again.

My first instinct was to wonder what I’d done to become the focus of such hatred. Then I realised, it had very little to do with me. The guy was a loser, a sad little loner desperate for someone to take notice and to convince himself he wasn’t at the bottom of the pile. It backfired. The whole thing said little about me – and everything about the person trying to demonstrate a strength they simply did not possess.

The lesson has stood me in good stead. I’ve been on the end of rudeness, aggression and indirect discrimination – and on reflection it’s always pointed up the weakness, insecurity or low self-esteem of the perpetrator. I once intervened on a train when I saw a drunk harassing a female passenger – the man turned his attentions to me and I was treated to a detailed appraisal (not positive) of my looks, my age, my hair, my weight and the clothes I was wearing. I explained to the guy that for insults to have an impact – I’d have to give a toss about the opinion of the person dishing them out and I couldn’t think of anything less important to me than his views on anything. He retreated.

I hope I’ve successfully passed the lesson on to work colleagues and friends, encouraging them to think about the actions of those who treat them badly. Is it from a position of weakness or strength? Is any criticism objective or is it more to do with jealousy, insecurity or just that they’re sick of being on the wrong end of someone else’s ire and are simply lashing out?

So, what’s that got to do with football or racism?

Roll forward forty odd years and my wife and I were returning from Spurs v West Ham. For reasons most have forgotten – the home team has an association with the Jewish religion. The away team’s supporters treated a small group of Spurs fans to some appalling abuse – essentially focusing on the Holocaust (of which my wife’s grandmother was a tragic victim). I’m a confirmed lapsed Catholic so not the best judge but, even my wife agreed – these people were not anti-Semitic per se – they were ignorant, insecure, immature and finding the only way they could to fit in with their mates.

We are told repeatedly that football has a racism problem – and something must be done. Games should be halted – players should walk – Twitter should do more. Sure - but none of those does anything about racism - they are just knee-jerk reactions to make people feel better about doing something… anything. There’s a famous book called How to Win Friends and Influence People. It contains the well-known quote – “a man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still”. Stopping a football match isn’t victory over a “racist” – it’s submission – and the mindset of the villain is unchanged.

There is a way of combatting these imbeciles – and it’s already being led in a low-key way by footballers like Raheem Sterling and Paul Pogba. Sterling laughed when interviewed about racist abuse. “What do you expect from people like that?” he asked. Pogba has said abuse makes him more determined.

I have no solution for club chairmen who won’t appoint a manager for reasons of prejudice, or for aspiring referees who don’t make the Premier League list because they are from a minority group – but the problem of systematic abuse at grounds and on social media can be addressed, in part at least, by a change in mindset. It won’t be stopped by more people saying how upsetting it is.

I cannot put myself in the place of someone who is on the wrong end of vile personal comments regarding their race – but I will venture the, possibly unpopular, opinion that the priority here is not multi-millionaire footballers. They live extraordinarily cossetted lives and whilst chanting or tweeting may be upsetting or irritating – it takes relatively little from their lavish lifestyles. They do however, have the chance to lead the charge on behalf of people who are experiencing the same thing at school or their place of work.

When a footballer vents his anger and says how upset he is – he has given a victory to those who abuse him. If players were to walk off or matches were stopped – that victory is magnified. It could even exacerbate the problem – 2-0 down in a crucial game, stop cheering your own team, start abusing the opposition’s centre-forward. Back to the dressing room. Job done. Who will reimburse those decent fans who might have travelled halfway round the world to see the game?

As a teenager I saw Brighton play an uninspiring match in the old Third Division. Nearly all professional footballers were white – one exception (I regret I don’t remember his name) was playing in that game and being subjected to some foul abuse. In response to the monkey chants – the player turned to the crowd and did a passable impersonation of a  chimp. The tables were turned – he’d demonstrated that he really couldn’t care less. The crowd realised they’d lost – and cheered his every touch to the end of the game. More recently Danny Alves of Real Madrid ate a banana that was thrown at him. Should an insanely well-paid footballer really worry about the actions of a moron they have never met? Better surely, to call these people out for what they are and make it clear that they are not winning. If the idea catches on – it could have an impact in the classroom, the workplace and in social situations for people who are far less privileged than a pro-footballer.

Could we not all take inspiration from Sterling and Pogba? At the heart of the dictionary definition of racism is the idea that a racist believes himself to be superior. Those who chant and tweet this appalling garbage are showing weakness, insecurity and low self-esteem, it’s off the scale “small dick syndrome”. Their comments are borne out of fear, jealousy and their own inadequacies. If only football could change the narrative – if the players could rise above it, understand the perpetrator is a loser – they might just turn the tide for less privileged people who suffer the same abuse.

The remarkable Greta Thunberg, teenage climate change warrior, recently said “When the haters go after your looks and differences, it means they have nowhere left to go – then you know you’re winning.”

Drink drivers were literally shamed into leaving their car keys at home – those who abuse others for any reason need a dose of the same medicine. Of course people should still be banned from grounds and be subject to the full force of the law  for being racist - but first and foremost for being a pathetic, sad little twat.

I’ve discussed this with a number of football fans and most agree the approach has merit. One, however, suggested that I was telling people they had no right to be upset. Nothing could be further from the truth. My argument is simply that focusing on how distressing it might be, will never get the bullies to stop. Footballers are powerful role models – if fans see their heroes mocking the morons who resort to juvenile name calling and pointing out that a verbal attack on an opposing player, because of the colour of his skin, is explicitly an attack on players from their own club too – shame and peer pressure might just make a difference.

And in case you are wondering – my saviour back in 1971. We are still firm friends. 

Matt Carrell

Author of A Matter of Life and Death - a novel set in the English Premier League and Something Must be Done - a short story about unintended consequences