Last week in the English Premier League, Everton’s forward Iliman Ndiaye blasted home a penalty and flapped his shoulders like a seagull would against Brighton. The referee instantly brandished a yellow card, to Ndiaye’s shock. Later, referee Tim Robinson and the Professional Game Match Officials Limited (PGMOL) clarified that they deemed Ndiaye’s celebrations “provocative, derisory or inflammatory”, as Brighton are monikered the ‘Seagulls’ and their fans might have felt insulted. Not least its gambolling pitch-side mascot, Gully the Seagull.
Days later, at a media event, the Premier League’s chief football officer Tony Scholes hinted that more stringent punishments await celebrations that “cross over into mockery.”
“Then we would need to deal with it,” he firmly stated. “There’s a balance. I think we all like to see celebrations. Some of the celebrations have been very funny, entertaining, but there’s a line,” he added.
It’s not the first time a footballer has been shown a card for excessive festivities. Carlos Tevez was red-carded for impersonating a chicken after belting a goal for Boca Juniors against River Plate (called the Gallinas, or chicken). Moral of the story — don’t imitate the birds.
A stringent view of celebrations would further kill one of the original theatres of the game — the raw outpouring of joy after scoring a goal, when even the greatest goal-scorer becomes a child again, releasing a bundle of ineffable emotions. Already, laws have girdled the spontaneity of celebrations. They can’t take off the shirt; they cannot reveal a message underneath it, even if it is of a personal nature or an ode to a friend, partner or parent; cover their face with it; they cannot reveal the name of a firm not approved by the organising body’s approved list; they cannot run into the crowd (Roma right-back Alessandro Florenzi jumped over a gate to hug his 82-year-old grandmother and was duly reprimanded). They could, but at the risk of a yellow card, or perhaps red, or even other sanctions.
People’s Game
Football, a sport of the masses, that smell of sweat and soil, is becoming hedonistically sanctified. The Video Assistant Referee (VAR) has already stripped some fun out of wheeling away euphorically. A goal-scorer has half an eye and mind on the on-ground screen, to see if his pony-tail or toe violated the off-side regulations. In VAR’s defence, despite serving the noble purpose of complicating a simple game, it has added another layer to the game. That of anticlimax. And that of rehearsed and soulless celebrations.
There certainly are celebrations that provoke cards. Like the fascist salutes (Paolo Di Canio in his Lazio days), those with racial or sexual connotations (Nicolas Anelka’s quenelle gesture, regarded ant-semitic), or those that involve physically hurting the officials or the spectators. But to wave cards merely for impersonating a bird, even if the opposite team is fondly known by that appellation, is a farce.
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But the same gauge was not applied when Leicester City forward Jamie Vardy, after scoring a goal, ran towards Tottenham Hotspur fans and pointed at the star on his sleeve patch, implying that his club has a title but not the Spurs. Manchester United forward Joshua Zirkzee celebrated the winning penalty in the shootout by firing imaginary bullets at the Emirates crowd. Neither won a sanction.
That is the crux of the ‘how much celebration is too much’ debate. The word of the law is clear but bound to interpretation. Law 12 of the International Football Association Board (IFAB) says: “Players can celebrate when a goal is scored, but the celebration must not be excessive; choreographed celebrations are not encouraged and must not cause excessive time-wasting.”
Thus, the eye of the beholding referee, his subconscious biases, mood and judgements, could potentially influence games. Referees sometimes don’t tolerate playful acts. Once England legend Paul Gascoigne noticed that the yellow card had slipped out of the referee’s pocket. He picked it up and flashed the card at the referee in jest, wearing his typical wide smile. The unamused ref grabbed the card back and reciprocated in kind on the understandably flabbergasted Gascoigne.
Arbitrary judgement
Celebrations are even more vulnerable to (mis)interpretation. Some of the most iconic celebrations in the game have polarised opinions. Like Roger Milla’s pelvic-thrust tangoes with the corner flag that became the enduring image of the 1990 World Cup. But some deemed the act vulgar and card-worthy. Similarly, complaints were raised against Papa Bouba Diop’s mbalax steps with his teammates after scoring the winner against defending champions France. Or the countless samba steps of the snake-hipped Brazilians. Last World Cup, Brazil drew criticism for Richarlison’s celebrations after beating Japan. But head coach Tite explained the relevance of dance in Brazilian culture. “Goals are the greatest moment of celebration and each person can translate that in their own way. And our way is to dance. While respecting the opponent, it is also self-respect.”
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Imagine if Milla had cavorted in front of a puritanical referee. He would have been carded and one of the most enduring images in the global grandee, revisited punctually before every subsequent edition, would have been remembered as a garish act. A more lenient official would have laughed off Ndiaye’s Seagull flaps.
A sterner gaze on celebrations, one of football’s basic instincts, would make the game poorer and less joyous a celebration and reflection of life. And turn it into a reality show.
