Racism Is Not Simply a 'Football' or 'Chelsea' Problem, Its Roots Are Deeper
Before Chelsea and Paris Saint-Germain locked horns in the Champions League round of 16 on Tuesday, fans obviously needed to get to the Parc des Princes, and more than a few Blues supporters used Paris Metro, specifically Richelieu-Drouot station.
Amateur video—published by The Guardian's Paul Nolan—shows what look to be Chelsea fans denying entry to a black man attempting to enter the train. Pushed back numerous times, English voices can be heard saying: “We’re racist, we’re racist—and that’s the way we like it, we like it, we like it.”
TOP NEWS
Madrid Fines Players $590K 😲
'Mbappé Out' Petition Gaining Steam 😳
Star-Studded World Cup Ad 🤩
A shocking scene and an embarrassment not only to Chelsea, but football and football fans everywhere.
Chelsea Football Club released a statement on Wednesday—via their official website—condemning the actions and vowing to ban those involved in the incident, if at all possible:
"Such behaviour is abhorrent and has no place in football or society.
We will support any criminal action against those involved, and should evidence point to involvement of Chelsea season ticket holders or members the club will take the strongest possible action against them including banning orders.
"
Their swift response is commendable and serves as an example to other clubs who will deal with similar cases, but more interesting has been the reaction from relatively sane fans.
“How can you be racist to a black man when there are black players on your own team?” This particular question seems to be a common one. The answer is never as simple as one would hope, but there does appear an apt choice available.
People who support teams, for the most part, do not care about the individual pieces: Whether black, white, pink or green—as long as you can do the job—who really cares?
While certainly not always the case, times have progressed enough to where in a majority of places, a black player on one’s team is nothing consequential.
Providing Chelsea with their greatest moment as a club in the 2012 Champions League final, had former Ivory Coast international and Blues legend Didier Drogba attempted to board that train, those same fans would likely have grovelled at the striker's feet—requesting photos, autographs and everything under the sun.
Herein lies the problem.
In an inherently racist and classist society: As long as you are one of “our blacks” we can tolerate your presence, cheer your name and support your efforts. This attitude, though, does not always translate for some outside of a chosen athletic arena.
If you cannot jump high, run fast and score goals, what purpose can one serve to a person who has racist leanings? It seems little to nothing. So little, in fact: “On a train I have no ownership of—in a city I don’t live in—this random stranger cannot join my mates and I as we go to a Champions League match on the basis of his skin colour.”
Possible drunks on a subway train shouting racist chants and denying entry to a black patron is disgusting, but it is one symptom of a greater disease.
Football clubs are microcosms of society. They are composed of more than colours, stadia and players; they are an ethos—a culture. Whether Chelsea are in London, Paris, Madrid or move grounds from Stamford Bridge, the overriding idea of the club still remains. If people are racist in that collective, it taints the concept for all.
Sport often becomes the epicentre of social issues.
Whether gun violence, domestic violence, drug abuse, racism or any number of ills—sports are a barometer. There is sometimes a tendency, however, to place whichever issue in the hands and on the head of sport itself—which is patently insane.
To come to the conclusion football creates racists or other sports make one more likely to batter their spouse is a ridiculous argument, but it seems commonplace to commence conversation there.
When incidents occur that involve sporting institutions, people are much too quick in blaming specific sporting culture rather than blaming/solving the superseding culture in which we all must coincide—also known as society.
To call one's self a fan is a statement of intent; you are by definition a fanatic—one with excessive enthusiasm and uncritical devotion. As such, clubs can become embroiled in items of grandiose societal importance after admittedly irrational individuals among their following, predictably, commit irrational acts.
When we see things like what happened on the Parisian Metro platform, our first response should not be: "Chelsea fans are racist," as we cannot control who becomes a Chelsea fan. Our first reaction should be: "Whose father, brother, son or husband is that?"
If we cannot spread—at the very least—the message of tolerance amongst our own loved ones and inner circles, who we can exact some level of control over, how can we then expect universal tolerance of strangers?
No matter the type, every group has its idiots; Chelsea Football Club are now tasked with locating their regrettable rubbish and dispatching of them swiftly and harshly.
Be not confused, however, those platform buffoons are not singular products of football; they are products of larger society—which invariably bleeds into sport.
This, though uncomfortable, makes them just as much our responsibility as Chelsea's, UEFA's or FIFA's.
.jpg?w=600 "Colts Release Kenny Moore")
