Netflix’s Beckham Documentary Compellingly Shines a Light on the Holes Men’s Football Doesn’t Dare Touch

By Rory Morrow

Released this week, the documentary surrounding the life, career and well, brand, of David (and Victoria it should be stressed), Beckham is an absorbing watch.

Some parts are crafted quite beautifully, the relationship, built up, nurtured, and battered back down, with former Manchester United manager, Sir Alex Ferguson, the highlight.  

Then, there’s his England career.  Through sheer vividness, Beckham’s red card at the 1998 World Cup against Argentina came hurtling back, Tardis-Machine esq, through twenty-five years of the past, the memory freshly evoked by the similarity and, some would say, unhelpful, comparisons it drew to Lauren James’ dismissal for the Lionesses versus Nigeria in the same stage, the last sixteen, of the Women’s World Cup.  The difference?  The second time, England went through.  There was no need for a villain, after all, much to the deeply suppressed disappointment of many lurking tabloids, denied a gleefully cheap but big-selling headline. 

In both cases, incidentally, the tie went the distance.  To a penalty shootout, England’s men defeated under Glenn Hoddle, the women winning and progressing to the final under Sarina Weigman.

In the fallout of 98’, with some fans even mailing gun bullets to Beckham, opposition fans and players would often try what Pumas player, Diego Simeone had successfully provoked.  That, or they tried to crunch and physically intimidate the mousy, perceived as mentally vulnerable amidst the vitriol of hate, Beckham out of proceedings.  But, as Keane said, ‘You go after him, you go after all of us.’  Siege mentality kicked in.  Supported emphatically by his club, Ferguson and teammates, Beckham got back to his best. 

Books, biographies, have, and will be, filled on Beckham’s career, one which to even whisper, is to perform a gross understatement.  But, as the attracted guests of Netflix’s documentary reiterate, realigning football’s pop culture with money-making owners and mean-guy managers, David Beckham footballer, was never going to fully do justice to his tale.

This documentary does its job.   Emerging, absorbing you in Beckham’s reality, one which splits generational opinion, perhaps, but gathers mutual, mass intrigue.  The candid, deep-dive, also perfectly fulfils its other role: as a distraction from the nastier, right-now, Beckham-verse. 

You know, his public ‘pride’ of being a Qatar World Cup ambassador, the sinister marketing strategy behind signing Lionel Messi to Miami.  Throughout his playing time, “Becks” would, more often than not, time his run or cross to perfection.  Here, the delivery is as good and for beholding his brand, as punctual as ever with football’s continued conflict with things which go beyond the impregnable prospect of twenty-two blokes kicking a ball around to see who can put it one net more often than the other.  

And quite possibly, they are beyond football’s grasp.  LGBTQ+ safety, sexual harassment and assault within the sport, Qatar and Saudi Arabia transforming into stealthy sports organisers, dangerously gaining influence.  These are a complex, unpleasant hotbed of controversial unease.  Why should it be down to Beckham, or any former footballer of his time, to express a stance on them?  

Words on such matters are easy, just ask Jordan Henderson.  What is hard for fans now is feeling that from high-up, the influencers and powers-that-be actually have a genuine will to help many within the game and, indeed, wider society. 

Football’s role is not designated to repair the many societal ills of today.  However, is it also not irresponsible of many senior, male players to not speak out on sexual assault, payment discrepancies, to call out the lurking Luis Ruiables’s hiding in plain sight within the industry?  After all, the female players at their clubs, whilst not direct teammates, still fall under Keane’s dogma.  ‘You go after one, you go after all of us’.  Or does that not apply as far as the women’s team, lads?  Lads? 

Their radio silence is magnified by just two players worldwide, Blackpool’s teenager Jake Daniels in the English Football League and Australian, Adelaide United player, Josh Cavallo, proudly declaring as openly gay footballers.  The legacy of their courage will be remembered as much as the careers and on-field achievements that they have.

Czech Republic, midfielder, Jakub Jankto, became the first men’s international player to in February, a player who you might vaguely remember as helping his country to the quarterfinals of the 2021 Euros, said that he ‘no longer wanted to hide himself.’ 

Male players are quick to publicly comment on or congratulate their fellow professionals on transfers, hattricks, milestone appearances but, on coming out?  Not yet anyway, certainly not by football’s Influencers’ crop, who could severely alter fans’ stance on acceptance by one simple social media message in solidarity.   If players cannot be comfortable expressing their true selves around each other, how on earth can you expect them to trust each other enough on the pitch to gel?

Jankto has had a successful career across Europe, Italy and Spain, for club and country.  Perhaps though, the real hope is that he’ll, alongside Daniels and Cavallo, be most fondly remembered for their legacies as being brave, so so, brave to come out in an environment that has always regarded homosexuality, if not rudely, then flippantly.

Discarding it as weakness or the long-held acceptance that is it ‘just banter, mate’ to make fun of someone by calling them ‘gay’.  Without any consideration that the person, not necessarily insulted, the one not laughing along or evidently forcing it to fit in, is who it will hit the hardest, like a tonne of bricks slamming you off your feet. 

These courageous three are hopefully, just the first and will help other, unsure colleagues, if not come out, then at least feel more accepted, find more down-to-earth, relatable figures, who won’t ever have a five-hour documentary spanning them.

For all the stardust watchability of Beckham, brand and all, his lack of genuineness is best indicative of an industry, which, for all that it looks jazzy, is ultimately quite un-inclusive.

Again, Beckham has scored attention here.  But goal or own goal?  Sweet strike or suffocating stumble?  To that, the crowd’s, your own, reaction shall be the judge.

Rory Morrow is a final year Anthropology student at Queen’s University Belfast and a Sport Reporter for The Scoop

Edited By: Ryan Brolly