Roberto De Zerbi apologized in his first interview as Tottenham’s head coach for past remarks about Mason Greenwood, made when the forward played under him at Marseille. Spurs supporter groups, including Proud Lilywhites and Women of the Lane, criticized the comments. De Zerbi stated he never intended to downplay male violence against women. Greenwood denied charges of attempted rape, controlling and coercive behavior, and assault occasioning actual bodily harm in 2022; the case was discontinued.
De Zerbi’s response matters because silence from men in power on these issues is a problem. Engagement beats retreat. But his apology offered self-description, not accountability. In this context, that isn’t enough.
The debate around De Zerbi and Greenwood has pushed male violence against women back into football’s public discourse. It raises a tougher question: why do so many men fail to recognize harmful behavior or stay silent when they do? Honesty is essential for change.
The ‘Good Guy’ Problem: How Perpetrators Avoid Blame
Research on male perpetrators of sexual and domestic violence consistently shows blame displacement. A 2024 review in Trauma, Violence, & Abuse, synthesizing qualitative studies over four decades, found that men who committed serious harm rarely identified as perpetrators. They blamed victims, alcohol, being out of character, or circumstances.
Labels like “rapist” or “abuser” are resisted because they clash with a self-image of decency. This explains why the “I know him, he’s a good person” response is common and inadequate. Perpetrators aren’t usually strangers or monsters; they’re people others know, like, and defend. Character references, however sincere, miss the point: behavior in other contexts doesn’t matter.
How Harmful Behavior Gets Normalized in Football
Male violence against women exists within norms that shape what’s seen, named, and ignored. The World Health Organization and decades of academic research point to these norms, not individual pathology, as the root cause. Researcher Michael Flood argues violence against women isn’t just about bad men; it’s sustained by cultures treating certain behaviors as unremarkable.
Most men aren’t physical perpetrators, but research shows men are significantly more likely than women to view sexist comments, jokes, or banter as somewhat acceptable. That gap causes damage. Football isn’t immune. Dressing rooms aren’t neutral spaces.
Studies in professional sports, like the Australian Football League and UK football’s Football Onside program at the University of Exeter, reveal strong group cultures can inhibit men from speaking up. Fear of being seen as weak, difficult, or disloyal drives conformity to perceived norms, even if those norms aren’t widely shared.
What Men Might Have Done Without Knowing It
Coercive control, legally recognized in England and Wales, often involves behaviors perpetrators don’t classify as abuse: pressuring a partner, monitoring movements, making them feel responsible for emotional states, or isolating them from friends and family. Many men engage in elements of this without understanding harm, because they weren’t taught to see it that way.
De Zerbi’s response illustrates this. He spoke up, which matters. “In my life, I have always stood up for those who are more vulnerable, more fragile. I’ve consistently fought and taken a stand to be on the side of those who are most at risk,” he said. Silence from powerful men is problematic, but his apology fell short.
Genuine ownership requires three things: naming what was wrong with the statement, not just the feelings it caused; accepting that impact exists independently of intent; and clearly stating, without qualification, that it won’t happen again. De Zerbi offered a character reference for himself. His statements may have been sincere, but they didn’t address what was said or why it landed poorly.
Research on perpetration and normalization indicates many men don’t grasp their impact because their culture didn’t equip them to see it. This doesn’t mean De Zerbi can’t learn or change. Ownership and unequivocal atonement signal someone has done the hard work of understanding impact over defending intent. That’s what was missing here.
Why Football Specifically Matters in This Fight
If De Zerbi made these comments in another industry, they’d barely register. Football is a lightning rod, reaching into communities, living rooms, and workplaces like nothing else. What players, managers, and clubs say and do shapes attitudes, especially among young men.
Research consistently shows men are more likely to change behavior when respected peers raise concerns. Peer influence in male-dominated environments is powerful, and football has that influence in abundance. The heat from this appointment—fan groups, statements, media coverage, debate—wouldn’t have happened without football. It put male violence against women on sports front pages in a way policy documents never could.
What Stepping Up Actually Looks Like for Men in Football
Men stepping up isn’t about performative allyship or solidarity statements. It’s about smaller, harder, more frequent choices: challenging a comment in the dressing room, not laughing at degrading jokes, being honest with a friend about witnessed behavior, listening when a woman says something made her uncomfortable without explaining why she misread the situation.
It also involves men with power and platform using them. When high-profile figures in football stay silent, their silence speaks volumes. The De Zerbi situation generated heat, but underneath lies a question the game must address seriously: not just who we appoint, but what we teach, tolerate, and expect from men at every level.
This conversation was uncomfortable but necessary. The question now is what football does with it.
