Men – it’s time to admit women’s sport is better ...Middle East

It was all kicking off in my local yesterday. There was drama, there was tension, and there was a sense of pride and togetherness as the generations and genders watched the Lionesses beat Spain and win the European Championships for the second time.

Unfortunately, there was also a light smattering of sexism from certain corners of the room (white, male, drunk) but hey, you can take some people out of the terraces, but you can’t take the terrace mentality out of some people, right?

The pub was full. Mums and dads. Grandads. Sons and daughters. Blokes who hadn’t watched a women’s game until Euro 2022. Blokes who hadn’t watched a women’s game since the FIFA Women’s World Cup in 2023. There were tears. There were chants. There were hugs from strangers.

You couldn’t have asked for a better afternoon of emotion and unscripted brilliance. Once again coming from behind, the Lionesses proved to be the ultimate comeback queens, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat and winning in the end by a perfectly executed penalty kick and the pluck of a visually impaired goalkeeper. You can’t write that kind of storyline.

As the walls of male cynicism came crumbling down (again), I looked at grown men in England shirts crying with pride and was reminded of the end scene of Rocky IV, in which the protagonist wins over a crowd of Soviets with pure grit and determination, and mumbles those immortal lines: “If I can change, and you can change, everybody can change.”

Let’s face it, women’s sport is not just ‘catching up’. In many ways, it’s overtaken the men.

When was the last time the men’s team showed such perseverance – or won a trophy? The overpaid, preening prima-donnas in the men’s game are prone to fade into the background when the chips are down. Perhaps it’s something to do with their inflated, easy-to-puncture egos. How many times have we watched as one by one, they fade into the background after conceding a goal, anxiously watching the clock, waiting for the whistle so they can scurry back to their Lamborghinis and their Cheshire mansions?

The Lionesses, on the other hand, are brilliant role models for boys and girls.

And it’s not just football where the women excel.

Look at this year’s Guinness Women’s Six Nations final where the Red Roses beat France in a thriller that went to the wire. England won by a point at Twickenham, sealing their fourth consecutive Grand Slam and seventh Six Nations title in a row. It wasn’t just a result, it was sporting theatre. The game had ebbs and flows, where momentum swung wildly. No wonder the 37,573 crowd was a record for a standalone women’s fixture at Twickenham.

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And at the other end of the spectrum, we had Wimbledon and the women’s final between Iga Świątek of Poland and Amanda Anisimova of the U.S. who was crushed 6–0, 6–0 in just 57 minutes. It was the first women’s final at Wimbledon to end without a single game lost since 1911, and only the second Grand Slam final in the Open Era to do so. Świątek dominated every aspect and showed incredible skill. But that shouldn’t take anything away from her opponent, who reached her career-best in 2022, before stepping away from the sport in 2023 for mental health reasons – a decision which showed bravery and maturity.

Meanwhile, the men’s final was won by 6’5″ robot Jannik Sinner serving missiles at Carlos Alcaraz until someone eventually blinked. Technically brilliant, but emotionally, about as engaging as a LinkedIn post.

And that’s one of the things about women’s sport. There’s less cynicism, and more soul. To coin a horribly overused but apt word, it’s authentic. It doesn’t insult the viewer. It’s not weighed down by petulance, show-boating, sulking or transfer fee circus acts. It hasn’t yet been completely absorbed by marketing and sponsorship – although arguably the women deserve the big bucks. There is less spitting. Less swearing.

It’s competitive, but having fought so hard to earn its place (a continuing battle), women’s sports generates an overarching unity. You could almost imagine a world in which unsegregated spectators watch a women’s football international together without feeling the need to kill each other.

When you watch women’s sport you get actual sport and athletes who are better role models. Chloe Kelly doesn’t boot advertising hoardings and beat her chest after scoring. Hannah Hampton doesn’t scream at the ref every time someone breathes near her penalty area. And none of them have yet starred in a Netflix docu-series about their self-doubt, while posing in sunglasses on a yacht.

It’s relatable. It’s inspiring. And it’s producing better matches, pound for pound.

So next time someone in your life (probably your uncle, probably wearing a Lonsdale vest) grumbles about “not being able to watch women’s football”, ask when he last saw a game. Then turn the volume up.

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