The aftermath of men’s sports glory ends in tragedy more often that not

There are moments in sport that are meant to be immortal: etched in gold, sung by fans, and replayed for generations. But not all victories feel the same in the morning light. 

In the cities of Paris and Bengaluru, the afterglow of glory was eclipsed by smoke, sirens, and the sorrow of lost lives. Only Arsenal’s win offered something purer — triumph unmarred.

Paris Saint-Germain’s long-awaited Champions League victory on May 31 should have been a moment of unfiltered joy. Instead, the streets erupted. Riots broke out across Paris and beyond — almost 500 arrests in the city and at least two deaths amid clashes and chaos. The scenes were grim reminders that men’s sport, sometimes, concludes not in celebration but in destruction. It was not the homecoming heroes deserve — it was a battle zone.

A similar shadow fell in Bengaluru, India. When the Royal Challengers Bengaluru, a professional cricket team, clinched their maiden Indian Premier League title — something fans had waited 17 years for — the city was ready to erupt. But no one anticipated the tragedy that would follow. 

At the team’s victory parade near M. Chinnaswamy Stadium, a crushing crowd overwhelmed the event. Eleven people died and dozens were injured. The blame game began: poor planning, over-capacity crowds, security failures. The magic of cricket — the poetry of that win — was tainted by grief. This begs the question: When does celebration become recklessness? When does fandom tip into fatality?

More recently, Liverpool fans spilling into celebration turned into another nightmare. On May 26, during the club’s Premier League victory parade, a car drove through a crowd including children after following an ambulance clearance on Water Street. The vehicle rammed into fans, injuring dozens and hospitalizing many. The driver, a 53-year-old British local, faces multiple charges including attempted murder. 

And then, there was the Arsenal women’s team victory. No stampedes, no sirens, no mourning mothers — just football. Graceful, historic, and quietly revolutionary. When they beat Barcelona in Lisbon to claim their second Union of European Football Associations Women’s Champions League title — the first since 2007 — it wasn’t just a win for the club. It was a cultural marker for women’s football.

The atmosphere was electric but safe, jubilant but respectful. It’s not that the fans loved their team any less — it’s that the culture around the game allowed the celebration to remain about the game.

So why does men’s sport routinely end in damage, while women’s sport is labelled “emotional” or “hormonal”? There’s a dangerous double standard. Women are often described as too sentimental and too fragile. Their tears are scrutinized, their intensity is downplayed as biology. Meanwhile, men’s violence is reframed as passion or the cost of scale.

That reframing is rooted in sexism. Men’s sport is expected to be rough, requiring policing and permits. Women’s sport is infantilized, expected to stay polite, neat, and contained — even at the cost of erasing genuine emotional power.

But emotional intensity isn’t gendered — nor is tragedy inevitable. The disastrous scenes in Paris, Bengaluru, and Liverpool aren’t the result of testosterone alone. They’re the product of poor planning, policing failure, and a culture that permits destruction as long as it fits a boys-will-be-boys narrative.

If sport is to unify, not unravel, it needs accountability — not just trophies. It needs infrastructure built to protect both fans and players, systems designed for safety, and a media that treats all emotional expressions with equal respect.

Emotion isn’t a flaw. Celebration doesn’t require chaos. And sport should never demand a body count to define its worth. Sport should unite, not unravel. It should be catharsis, not catastrophe. The beautiful game, the gentleman’s game — any game — should not require an obituary.

In that sense, maybe Arsenal’s women’s team didn’t just win a trophy. Maybe they reminded us what winning is supposed to feel like.