More than a week after France defeated Ireland in a qualifying match for the 2010 World Cup, thanks to a controversial late goal by captain Thierry Henry, sports fans and commentators all over the world are still arguing over what should be done to prevent cheating in professional sports. For just a few seconds after the referee allowed the winning goal, television footage showed quite clearly that Henry had used his left hand, twice, to control the ball in front of the Irish goal, before crossing to William Gallas whose straightforward header then secured France’s spot in the finals in South Africa.
So far, most of the outrage has centred on Henry’s admission, after the match, that he knew immediately that he had handled the ball, but decided to leave the matter in the referee’s hands. The Irish newspapers and Football Association, and many French commentators, have debated at length whether this sophistry is merely a pragmatic statement about the way things are, or an inadvertent admission of the cynical professional culture which has undermined so many modern sports. Either way, it is worth noting that many of the comments about “honest” Ireland being robbed by the French are simply mistaken. Shortly after the match, the Irish winger Damien Duff told the BBC that if he or his team-mate Robbie Keane had been “down the other end we’d have tried it… you just expect the linesman or referee to see it.”
During the post-match furore, Ireland registered a protest over the official result and called for a rematch, which FIFA turned down. The French president, Nicholas Sarkozy, wisely offered the Irish prime minister a formal apology, but was politic enough to decline the invitation for a return fixture. As coverage of the incident has gathered momentum in the media – evoking such wonderful tabloid headlines as “Hand-Gaul” and “Le Hand of God” – the hapless Thierry Henry has come under increasing pressure to resign from international football, despite widespread public support from several friends and team-mates.
Perhaps the most interesting twist to the story is the fact that the Irish team benefited from an illegal goal during a qualifying match against Georgia in February. Shortly after the striker Robbie Keane had handled the ball in front of the Georgian goal, the Irish were, inexplicably, awarded a penalty, which they successfully converted to win the match. But there was barely a murmur in the international press about this act of dishonesty, even though it yielded practically the same result as Henry’s sleight-of-hand against the Irish.
Furthermore, as several commentators have pointed out, modern football is a game of a thousand deceptions. Today players routinely pull on their opponents’ shirts, claim corners and throw-ins which they haven’t earned, and dive in the penalty box hoping to fool the referee or linesmen. This trickery is tolerated by coaches, commentators and fans as part of the game, so why has Henry’s hand-ball been treated so differently?
The inevitable comparisons with Diego Maradona’s infamous goal against England in the 1986 World Cup only underscore this problem. Instead of becoming an international pariah after this incident, Maradona continued to play football at the highest levels for many years afterwards. In fact, his second goal, just a few minutes after the hand-ball, is still considered by many to be the greatest in the history of the game.
Beyond football, it is also worth remembering that cheating has now become commonplace in cycling, athletics, baseball and cricket. Thierry Henry’s momentary lapse of character should be condemned, but it can’t seriously be compared to the cold-hearted match-fixing that the famously “honest” Hansie Cronje was involved with.
Nor should it be considered distinct from a great deal of rule-stretching which has been used throughout the years to get celebrated sportsmen out of a tight situation. Mohamed Ali’s trainer, Angelo Dundee, infamously “encouraged” a small tear in his glove into a large rip, allowing Ali to rest while the glove was changed instead of succumbing to what seemed like a certain knock-out by the British boxer Henry Cooper. In cricket, Trevor Chappell bowled the final ball of the 1981 Benson and Hedges World Series Cup underarm, to prevent New Zealand from tying the match. These were both disgraceful actions, but neither of them, strictly speaking, can be described as cheating.
The idea that better technology will fix the problem is hardly an improvement on the current situation either. Technology will not be used in high school tournaments, or in friendly matches, so unless the culture is reformed at the professional level it can hardly be expected to disappear elsewhere. In a perfect world, Thierry Henry, one of modern football’s most attractive players, would have had the moral fibre to own up to his deception, but he can’t be blamed for his sport’s flawed professional culture. Thousands of other professionals bear that responsibility, the Irish included.
