Jeremy Doku's Dilemma: Fatherhood vs. World Cup
Jeremy Doku has drawn his line. Not on a tactics board, not on a touchline. In a delivery room.
The Manchester City winger is due to become a father next month and has been clear: if Belgium are still at the World Cup when his wife goes into labour, he wants to leave the camp and be there for the birth of his first child.
“If you ask me what I want, my answer is that nobody wants to miss the birth of their first child,” the 24-year-old told Reuters. “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.”
In a sport that often demands total sacrifice, that simple statement lit the fuse.
A TV rant, a backlash, and a climbdown
The storm truly broke when L’Équipe channel presenter France Pierron launched into a remarkable on-air attack, claiming a father is “completely useless” at the time of birth and describing it as a “disgusting moment”.
The reaction was instant and unforgiving.
Within hours, L’Équipe issued a public apology, stressing Pierron’s words were “very far removed” from the organisation’s values. The presenter apologised as well, and reports in France said she would not front her show on Monday.
The football world – and far beyond it – closed ranks around Doku. This was no niche dressing-room debate. It cut to the core of how we see players: as employees, entertainers, or human beings with lives that stretch beyond the stadium floodlights.
Belgium’s winger, a World Cup, and a due date
Doku’s situation is as straightforward as it is uncomfortable for a national team. He started Belgium’s World Cup with 86 energetic minutes in a 1-1 draw against Egypt in Group G, then missed the 0-0 stalemate with Iran through illness.
His wife, Shireen, is due to give birth in the second week of July. On the football calendar, that’s quarter-final territory. The kind of stage players dream of. The kind of moment federations plan for years in advance.
But some life events sit above even the World Cup.
Doku hasn’t thrown down an ultimatum. He has simply voiced a wish that most people outside elite sport would consider obvious. And in doing so, he has dragged an old, awkward question back into the spotlight: how much of yourself do you owe the game?
“It only happens once”
Among the first to step forward in support was England striker Ollie Watkins, a man who has already walked this path.
“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 wasn’t theory. It was lived experience from a player who knows what it means to juggle a fixture list with family life.
Players, not gladiators
The Professional Footballers’ Association weighed in too, underlining that the demands placed on players cannot come at the expense 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.”
The Fatherhood Institute, which works to support men as active, hands-on parents, went even further in its imagery.
“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.”
That comparison landed. In a sport obsessed with numbers – goals, assists, kilometres covered – the value of being in the room when your child is born simply doesn’t fit on a spreadsheet.
A gap in the rulebook
Football’s regulations show where the game is starting to move, and where it still hasn’t caught up.
Fifa rules now stipulate that female footballers must receive at least 14 weeks of paid maternity leave, eight of those after the birth. It’s a clear, codified protection.
For men, there is nothing specific on paternity leave. No universal standard. No guaranteed right to be there. Just a patchwork of club policies, manager discretion and personal negotiation.
So the stories vary wildly.
One club arranged for a car to sit outside the ground during a match, engine running, ready to whisk a player away if his partner went into labour. At a top-flight European side, a manager chose not to travel with his team so he could stay with his wife ahead of the birth of their second child.
He watched the game on TV, headset on, feeding instructions to the bench from home.
“I was on the earpiece to the bench and 10 minutes into the game she started getting labour pains,” said the manager, now working in the Championship. “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 line says it all. The game doesn’t stop. Life doesn’t either.
When players walk away – and when they can’t
Doku is far from alone in wanting to step away from the biggest stage to be there at the moment his life changes.
In 2018, Fabian Delph left England’s World Cup camp in Russia to return home for the birth of his daughter. No hesitation, no drama. Just a decision that felt right to him and, crucially, was supported by Gareth Southgate and the Football Association.
David Silva missed two Manchester City matches in 2018 after the premature arrival of his son. The club backed him fully. So did the supporters, who understood that some battles are bigger than three points.
In 2021, David de Gea was granted extended leave by Manchester United during the Covid pandemic when his partner Edurne gave birth to their daughter. Travel restrictions, bubbles, empty stadiums – football bent its own rules in that period. For De Gea, it bent just enough.
Not everyone has had that option.
Norway defender Leo Ostigard watched the birth of his son on FaceTime while on World Cup duty this weekend. 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 for medical reasons. Neves had planned to join her, but pandemic travel restrictions shut that door. He celebrated a life-changing moment through a screen, miles from home, still in club tracksuit.
These are not isolated tales. They are the reality of a sport that rarely pauses.
Beyond football: a wider shift
The debate around Doku’s decision has also resonated outside the game.
Cricketer Jamie Smith missed England’s second Test defeat to New Zealand last week after the birth of his daughter. Sir James Anderson once flew back between Ashes Tests in Australia in 2010 to be there for the arrival of his second child.
In basketball, Anthony Edwards walked out at half-time of a game in 2024 so he could make it to the birth of his daughter. No one questioned his commitment when he came back to dominate games again.
Sir Andy Murray, speaking in 2016, was unequivocal about his own priorities when asked about the Australian Open and the possibility his wife Kim could go into labour.
“I’d be way more disappointed winning the Australian Open and not being at the birth of the child,” he said.
Not everyone has chosen that path. Darts player Rob Cross missed the birth of his third child in 2017 to secure qualification for the World Matchplay. A decision, like all of these, that sits with the individual and their family – but one that looks starker now, as attitudes continue to shift.
A choice bigger than a quarter-final
So Doku waits. Belgium push through their group. The dates creep closer together: a possible World Cup quarter-final on one side, a delivery room on the other.
He knows the stakes. He knows how rare these tournaments are, how careers can flicker and fade before a player gets another chance.
But he also knows this: you only welcome your first child once.
The game will roll on without him if he steps away. It always does. The question now is whether football is finally ready to accept that sometimes, even at a World Cup, the right decision is to walk out of camp, switch off the team WhatsApp, and walk into a hospital instead.
