Jeremy Doku's World Cup Dilemma: Fatherhood vs. Football
Jeremy Doku has already made his World Cup decision. It has nothing to do with tactics, formations or opponents. It has everything to do with a delivery room.
The Manchester City winger is due to become a father next month and has been clear: if the timing clashes, he wants to walk out of Belgium’s World Cup camp and into the birth of his first child. Even if Belgium are still alive in the tournament. Even if it means missing a quarter-final.
That simple, human choice lit the fuse on a storm.
A line crossed on live TV
On French television, L'Equipe presenter France Pierron reacted with a remark that jarred far beyond the football world. She described a father as "completely useless" at the time of birth and called it a "disgusting moment".
The backlash was instant and broad.
L'Equipe issued a statement apologising, stressing Pierron’s comments were "very far removed" from the channel’s values. Pierron apologised herself, and reports in France said she would not present her show on Monday. The sense was clear: a line had been crossed, and not just with Doku.
The reaction from within the game, and outside it, was almost unanimous. On this, football spoke with one voice.
Doku’s stance: “Nobody wants to miss that”
Doku, 24, started Belgium’s World Cup with 86 minutes in a 1-1 draw against Egypt in Group G, then missed the 0-0 stalemate with Iran through illness. His influence on the pitch is obvious; his importance to Domenico Tedesco’s plans is not in doubt.
Yet his focus is split in a way no tactics board can solve.
His wife Shireen is due to give birth in the second week of July. That window collides directly with the business end of the World Cup. If Belgium progress, it could mean a quarter-final without their winger.
"If you ask me what I want, my answer is that nobody wants to miss the birth of their first child," he told Reuters.
He didn’t stop there. "But I also know that football involves many other considerations. I know the federation supports its players and understands their situations. We'll see what we can do."
It is the tension every modern professional recognises: the job that never stops, and the life that cannot wait.
Backing from the dressing room
Support for Doku came quickly from his peers. England striker Ollie Watkins, a father of two, spoke from experience rather than theory.
"I think someone labelled it disgusting and I think for a start that's not a way to label a birth," he said. "I've seen what my wife had to go through and that was quite smooth sailing but I know family members and friends that haven't had it that way.
"It only happens once - welcoming your first child to the world - and it is a blessing. There's a lot of times where you're away from family and friends during the season and it's very difficult, so to miss that would be tough and I see where he's coming from."
Watkins’ words cut through the noise. This is not a luxury debate for players; it is a question of what kind of lives they are allowed to lead.
The Professional Footballers' Association backed that view in firm terms. The union warned that the demands placed on players cannot come at the cost of "fundamental family moments".
"While every situation is different, we believe players should be supported in balancing their professional responsibilities with important life events," a PFA spokesperson said. "Supporting players as people, not just athletes, is an important part of creating a healthy professional working environment."
“Gladiators in the Colosseum”
The issue runs deeper than one winger and one tournament. It speaks to how sport still views fathers.
The Fatherhood Institute, which campaigns for men to be hands-on parents, saw something familiar in the way Doku’s choice was framed.
"It makes me think of gladiators in the Colosseum," deputy chief executive Jeremy Davies told BBC Sport. "We want these men to be these heroic figures who exist for our entertainment. They get paid lots of money but there are some things that are worth a lot more."
The image is stark, but it fits. Players are expected to be endlessly available, endlessly committed, endlessly present for club and country. Except when it comes to their own children.
Fifa’s regulations underline the imbalance. Maternity leave for female footballers must be "a minimum period of 14 weeks' paid absence", with at least eight weeks after the birth. For fathers? Nothing specific. No clear paternity framework. Just a quiet expectation that they will find a way to juggle everything.
The hidden compromises
Inside the game, those compromises are often improvised and invisible.
One club kept a car idling outside the stadium for a player whose partner was close to giving birth, ready to whisk him away mid-match if the call came. Another story comes from a manager now working in the Championship, who skipped travelling to a top-flight European fixture to stay with his wife as she prepared to deliver their second child.
He watched the game on television instead, wired into the dugout.
"I was on the earpiece to the bench and 10 minutes into the game she started getting labour pains," he recalled. "We were 2-1 up at half-time but she was getting more into labour. I rang the hospital to say we were going to come in, but had to stop because we got a penalty.
"We scored, I knew we won the game, and we came right in. Our daughter was born two hours later.
It's less common with managers because they are typically older but the game doesn't stop... you need to win the next game."
The sentence hangs there. The game doesn’t stop. Life doesn’t either.
Players who walked away – and those who couldn’t
Doku would not be breaking new ground if he left a World Cup camp to be at the birth.
In 2018, Fabian Delph flew home from England’s base in Russia for the arrival of his daughter. David Silva missed two Manchester City matches in the same year after his son was born prematurely. Manchester United gave David de Gea extended leave in 2021 during the Covid pandemic when his partner Edurne had their daughter.
Others never got that moment in person.
Norway defender Leo Ostigard watched his son’s birth this weekend via FaceTime while on World Cup duty. Ruben Neves did the same in January 2021, watching the arrival of his third child on his phone from Wolves’ team bus after a 1-0 defeat at Crystal Palace. His wife had gone back to Portugal to be with her doctor; pandemic travel restrictions kept him stuck in England.
This is not just football’s dilemma, either.
Last week, cricketer Jamie Smith missed England’s second Test defeat by New Zealand after the birth of his daughter. In 2010, England’s record wicket-taker Sir James Anderson flew back between Ashes Tests in Australia to attend the birth of his second child. Basketball star Anthony Edwards left at half-time of a game in 2024 to be there for his daughter’s arrival.
Tennis had its own sliding-doors moment when Sir Andy Murray said in 2016 that he would walk away from the Australian Open if his wife Kim went into labour.
"I'd be way more disappointed winning the Australian Open and not being at the birth of the child," he said then. It was blunt, and it was honest.
Not everyone made that call. Darts player Rob Cross missed the birth of his third child in 2017 as he fought to qualify for the World Matchplay. Careers turn on those decisions. So do lives.
What price is football really willing to pay?
Doku stands where so many before him have stood, only this time under the sharp glare of a World Cup and a social media storm. His choice is personal, but the question it poses is anything but.
If the sport can ringfence maternity leave and talk about wellbeing and mental health, can it really keep treating fatherhood as an optional extra, squeezed in around fixtures and flights?
Soon enough, Belgium will discover whether they have a quarter-final to prepare for and whether their winger is with them or on a very different journey. When that moment comes, the decision will say as much about football’s values as it does about Jeremy Doku’s.
