If there’s one phrase that sports journalists overuse, it’s “this is a scandal.” Yet the press’s lack of originality isn’t a reason to mislabel what happened to Sergio Canales as anything less than a scandal. It is. In capital letters. The Betis midfielder, who had not been sent off in more than 400 appearances, was dismissed in October 2022 for protesting a decision by Mateu Lahoz. In February 2023, when asked about that moment, Canales spoke his piece in a post-match interview. And now the Competition jury, living in its own insulated world of emotion, has decided to add four more games to the punishment. The tone surrounding the case is thin on nuance and heavy with certainty, leaving little room for perspective beyond the verdict.
Before the Negreira affair dominated headlines, a large number of fans believed there was a stink around some part of the competition. After the social media uproar and the media chorus quieted, people inside the sport began to argue that football’s disciplinary system operates at two speeds. When it comes to punishing the powerful, the system slows to a crawl. When it comes to punishing the less powerful, it moves with uncanny speed. The favored few seem to enjoy exemptions; the many pay the price. The sanction against Canales, seen by many as unfair, arbitrary, and disproportionate in both substance and procedure, drew widespread condemnation. Some insist the arbitration body should be protected to preserve fairness, yet this should not shield a system that uses rules to target some while giving others a pass with rose-tinted rhetoric. (Goal)
If the problem is that players cannot speak up, protest, or even question decisions, then let the dialogue happen. The issue is not merely about speech but about consistency. Arbitration and sports justice should not resemble a moral police force that enforces double standards. A forward from a powerful club who insults a referee to his face might be treated differently than a defender from a strong team who quietly undermines authority. A coach who claims bias or error may be met with silence or a muted response. The color of the shirt seems to color the outcome. If José Gayà files a complaint, the maximum penalty may be applied; if Renato Tapia raises concerns, the response is different. And if the one who refuses to bow his head is Sergio Canales, another name might be added to the list of controversial cases. The question becomes—will the referee lineup for Atlético-Betis, with Canales absent, be any less predictable or any more fair? (Goal)
Spanish football faces a serious reputation problem that demands reflection. Clubs should complain less and act more. They fund the spectacle and must take steps to clarify responsibilities, reform institutions, and revise disciplinary rules. A stronger, more independent arbitration body and an impartial VAR institution are needed, along with a league process that resembles a modern, professional competition rather than a theater with uneven rules. The notion of an open bar for a few and consistent penalties for the many cannot continue. The Canales situation stands as a troubling episode in a longer pattern that many find exhausting and unsatisfactory. Reform is overdue, and normalization of such uneven treatment cannot be the goal. (Goal)
The sport of football in Spain deserves a system that earns trust through transparent governance, fair application of rules, and accountability at every level. In this moment, the focus should be on establishing clear standards, not on defending winners or excusing rule-breaking. A thoughtful audit of procedures, a commitment to uniform discipline, and a plan to rebuild credibility would serve the game far better than another controversial verdict that stirs debate yet leaves fans wondering about the playing field’s real equity. The conversation about fairness continues, and the path forward must be guided by consistency, openness, and a genuine investment in the sport’s integrity. (Goal)