So Aaron Ramsey, a young Arsenal soccer player broke his leg in a match last weekend. This weekend all of his teammates wore t shirts over their jerseys with the message “Get well soon Aaron” written boldly. There were several car park sized banners in the crowd with a likeness of Ramsey on them alongside messages such as “Do it for Aaron”. Is a bit of perspective not required here? I mean there are few occupational hazards in being a pampered, cosseted modern day professional footballer but breaking the odd bone is one of them.
Perhaps he has been whisked away to some top secret medical facility in the Arctic for treatment and the only way his teammates could communicate with him was via a message on their t shirts in the preamble to a televised game. But I doubt it. I’d say they will still see him every week during his rehabilitation. But that was no reason not to turn a trivial leg break into a monumental vainglorious melodrama to be played out on TV.
When the actual tackle took place we had players all over the pitch drop to their knees with head in hands, traumatized. Men, remember. Not under 12s. Your comrades supposedly, your brothers in battle, in the trenches. Having a little cry for themselves while their teammate writhes around on the ground. Then they have the temerity to wear slogans proclaiming their unconditional solidarity and brotherhood. I’m sure Ramsey could have used some of that solidarity and brotherhood last week when his shin was hanging on by the muscle. Vacuous, narcissistic gestures that showcase their depth of feeling and benevolence while the cameras happen to be rolling, that’s what these lads are more interested in.
Vilifying the opposition player when it was obviously accidental is another important weapon in the armory of the affronted. It is not part of some grand conspiracy to destabilize your club; it was a robust tackle that went slightly awry. Man up and deal with it. And take off your poxy pink tribute t shirts; I’m sure the chap will live to play again. At any rate if he is any kind of a competitor he was probably mortified by the display in the first place. It’s not like he’s lost his limbs to a roadside bomb or a drunk driver. Save your carefully contrived cocktail of outrage and compassion for a situation that merits it.
The infantilisation of sport proceeds full throttle.
