Hey everybody, let’s deconstruct the taboo around diving.

By: Dan | September 24th, 2009

Cristiano Ronaldo, Didier Drogba, Francesco Totti, Hernan Crespo, Arjen Robben: all talented, renowned international footballers, yet the sight of their names is no doubt making some readers percolate with rage. These men are some of the more prominent players that have been branded with the label of ‘diver.’ Their talents will be forced to coexist with the stigma of that label in the eyes of many fans. Some, with a more puritanical streak, will claim to have their experiences watching these players to be forever soiled by these claims of simulation.

Sometimes, a player does not even need to be accused of multiple infractions against honesty. If a player succumbs to gravity during a particular moment in the spotlight, they can just as easily carry the ‘diver’ label with them. Slaven Bilic against France in 1998, Fabio Grosso buckling under Lucas Neil’s slip and slide demonstration in 2006, Diego Simeone’s reaction to David Beckham’s enfeebled lashing out, and, of course, Rivaldo’s ‘please, not the face’ incident in 2002 are all singularly infamous tumbles. These incidents will invariably come up at some point during a discussion involving any of the above players.

There’s no doubt that diving has become the ultimate taboo in the world of football ethics. Each new, high profile incident is met with fervent calls to stamp out this scourge on the football landscape. Personally, I’ve never understood the need to go beyond the current punishment of public scorn, and a yellow card for a player caught in the act. I would be more willing to throw this difference of opinion in the ‘live and let live’ category if it weren’t for the fact that, very often, a diving player is treated more harshly in the court of public opinion than a player who has committed a brutal and/or reckless foul.

When clear intent is combined with serious injury, as in the recent assault on Anderlecht’s Marcin Wasilewski by Standard Liege’s Axel Witsel, or the vicious elbow to the head delivered by then Manchester City player Ben Thatcher on Portsmouth’s Pedro Mendes during the 06-07 season, the public is quick to offer a rightful condemnation. In other instances, where injury results from ineptitude rather than intent, many fans are less forthcoming with condemnation. Arsenal’s Eduardo has arguably received more criticism for his dive against Celtic in the Champions League playoff round than Birmingham City player, Martin Taylor, did when he broke Eduardo’s leg in two places. In fact, when we reach the extreme end of this situation, we’ll find that some of the most dangerous players are celebrated as cult heroes. How Roy Keane, for example, managed to suffer no lasting damage to his reputation, even after admitting to intentionally maiming Alf-Inge Haaland is beyond me.

So, I have to wonder, is on-field passion leading to some misplaced priorities, or are external notions of morality intruding on the way we view the acts of diving and fouling?

The on-field frustration with diving is fairly obvious. Even the immediate response is intertwined with an external factor though, a sense of justice. Fouls are immediately punished; free kicks, penalties, and/or cards are awarded; justice is meted out on the spot. It’s no coincidence that Harold Schumacher’s leaping challenge/assault on Patrick Battiston in the 1982 World Cup semi-final is such a popular choice for the most heinous foul in the game’s history. Not only did it result in serious injury to Battiston and affect the result of the game, but it went completely unpunished by the referee. The sense of justice being criminally undermined is palpable. (The fact that Schumacher was unrepentant and that the West German team was already massively unpopular after their ‘fixed’ first round match with Austria certainly didn’t help matters any.) Of course, most fouls are far more routine, and do not have a dramatic effect on the game’s result or cause injury, and are therefore easy to overlook in the long run. Diving, on the other hand, is not designed to be overlooked. It is a simulation of a foul designed to bring play to a halt and give an advantage to the diver’s team. As a simulation of a foul, it is also, essentially, a false accusation, which is inherently unjust. When a dive directly affects the result of a game, as it often can, the beneficiaries of the dive are said to have perverted justice by benefiting from an event (a foul) that never actually happened. Compounding the sense of injustice is that the dive usually goes unpunished. Even if it is retroactively punished, the match result that the dive affected cannot be unchanged.

It would seem that the on-field ramifications of diving and fouling go a long way towards explaining the attitudes taken towards these respective actions. The problem I have in this particular area is that I consider the interpretations of what happens on the field to be irrevocably biased by preconceived notions. Let’s say the following scenario occurs in two different matches: a desperate lunge by a defender in the 18 yard box fails to make contact, but the striker hurls himself earthwards and wins a penalty. Is someone in the vehemently anti-diving camp likely to criticize either of the defenders for being positioned so poorly that they were reduced to making a ludicrous, clumsy challenge, or would two more diving cheats be added to the master list? My guess is that the defenders will be given the benefit of the doubt both times, because the reaction against diving is rooted in the powerful influences of traditional masculinity and morals.

We’ve all heard the cliché ‘football is a man’s game.’ Man’s game means tough, physical and aggressive. The implication is that if you can’t handle these man’s qualities, then you aren’t a man or shouldn’t be playing football. The phrase is meant to protect the excesses that spring forth from these qualities. It doesn’t require an overly long process of deduction to recognize that the archetypical, physically imposing tough guy is a revered character in many quarters. The unwritten rule surrounding this type of tough guy is that the tough guy sets the code of conduct for all interactions; if someone should break this code, even unwittingly, they have provoked the ire of the tough guy themselves, and deserve no sympathy when physical retribution is exacted. (I think we saw this dynamic come into play in the Keane/Haaland affair.)

Diving is very much the opposite of traditional, macho behavior. It would be un-macho to let on if one were actually injured, never mind to fake injury for sympathy or material gain. Many of the visceral reactions to diving cast further aspersions on the diver’s masculinity, very often through use of the word ‘bitch.’ Viewed through the lens of masculinity, not only is diving a problem by itself, but it also subverts masculine values by seeking to punish traditional masculine behavior. Cue one of the many laments from former players or ‘old time’ fans about how ‘they’ve turned football into a non-contact sport.’ The impulse towards misguided nostalgia for ‘hard men’ like Graeme Souness, Chopper Harris, Claudio Gentile, and Vinnie Jones, among others, is rooted in support for a more macho time. This nostalgia can also give rise to revenge fantasies. When former Chelsea star Peter Osgood wished that Francis Jeffers ‘would get really hurt’ after Jeffers took a simulated spill against Liverpool, it wasn’t just an attack on Jeffers alone. The long term result of Jeffers getting really hurt would be an example offered to other potential divers. ‘If you persist in this behavior that we don’t like, you will probably get really hurt too.’

So masculinity has provided a possible explanation for the hatred of diving, and the sympathy towards clumsy, but not necessarily malicious challenges. (Incidentally, I would be very interested in hearing a female perspective on this from any fellow bloggers or readers as, obviously, the expectations of traditional macho behavior do not apply.)

I believe the other element that leads to such a strong bias against diving is an issue of ingrained morality. Diving is an act of devious intelligence or cunning, which is a trait that has been historically looked down upon. The negative interpretations of cunning attribute these schemes as a form of dishonesty and weakness. You aren’t strong enough to waltz in with ‘plan A’ and get what you want, so you’re reduced to skulking around in the shadows. Think of Cassius and his fellow conspirators against Julius Caesar or, Sisyphus in Greek mythology, who made fools of the gods with his trickery on a number of occasions.

These critiques of cunning, I think, mutated later on into outright accusations of unnatural behavior, such as the Faustus/Doctor Frankenstein warnings against gaining ‘forbidden’ knowledge. In either case, the criticized actions stem from a dissatisfaction with what opportunities are available through ‘official’ channels. So the moral is that it’s apparently far better to be satisfied with being honestly incompetent than to gain access to greater advantages through unapproved means. Perhaps that’s why we hear the all too familiar refrain when a bad foul occurs, ‘he was only trying to win the ball,’ and rarely hear the sensible counter ‘he was only taking advantage of his opponents ham-fisted, lurching incompetence’ when a player dives over a convenient, outstretched leg in the penalty area.

Ultimately, I don’t really want to defend diving, just offer an alternative take on it. I posit that diving is not a scourge that needs to be stamped out like racism, match fixing, or financial doping, it’s just a part of the game like time wasting or boring defensive tactics: very annoying when it happens against your team, but something we can all live with.