Jeremy Doku Puts Family First Amid World Cup Duty

Jeremy Doku has made his decision. Football can wait. Family cannot.

The Manchester City winger is expecting his first child next month and has told Belgium he wants to leave the World Cup camp to be at the birth – even if they are still in the tournament. For a player at the peak of his career, on the biggest stage, it is a line drawn in permanent ink.

It has also exposed an old fault line in elite sport: what, exactly, do we expect from these men?

A Birth Called “Disgusting”

The storm truly broke in France. On L'Équipe’s TV channel, presenter France Pierron described fathers as “completely useless” at the time of birth and called the moment itself “disgusting”. It was a jarring, cold take on what many consider the most human of experiences.

The backlash was instant and fierce. L'Équipe issued a statement apologising, stressing that Pierron’s words were “very far removed” from the organisation’s values. She apologised as well, and reports in France said she would not front her show on Monday.

The football world, for once, spoke with one voice. This was a step too far.

Doku’s Dilemma

On the pitch, Doku has already played his part. He featured for 86 minutes in Belgium’s opening 1-1 draw with Egypt in Group G, then missed the 0-0 stalemate with Iran through illness. Off the pitch, a different clock is ticking.

His wife Shireen is due to give birth in the second week of July. If Belgium progress deep into the knockout rounds, that could mean a quarter-final without one of their most dangerous wide players.

Doku, 24, did not dress it up when speaking to Reuters.

“If you ask me what I want, my answer is that nobody wants to miss the birth of their first child,” he said.

He knows, though, that football is rarely simple. “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.”

Those two sentences capture the modern professional’s reality: torn between the demands of a global industry and the pull of a delivery room.

Backing From the Dressing Room

Inside the game, sympathy has flowed his way.

England striker Ollie Watkins, a father of two, did not hide his feelings.

“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.”

That last line is the crux. Players spend months in hotels, airports and training camps. When life’s biggest moments arrive, how much more are they expected to sacrifice?

The Professional Footballers’ Association framed it bluntly. The demands on players, it said, should not 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, Not Machines

From outside football’s bubble, the reaction was just as sharp.

The Fatherhood Institute, which campaigns for men as active, hands-on carers, saw something deeper in the Doku debate.

“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 image lingers. Floodlights instead of torches, cameras instead of crowds, but the same expectation: perform, no matter what is happening at home.

A Gap in the Rulebook

On paper, the sport has moved with the times – at least for women. Fifa regulations state that 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, there is nothing. No global standard, no formal protection. Just private conversations, quiet compromises and improvised solutions.

One club, aware a player’s partner was close to giving birth, kept a car idling outside the stadium so he could leave the moment his phone rang. At a top-flight European side, a manager skipped a match entirely to stay with his wife as she prepared to have their second child. He watched from home, on television, and issued instructions through an earpiece.

“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.

Even in that story, with its happy ending and three points, the tension is unmistakable. Labour pains and penalty kicks, hospital calls and half-time talks, all jostling for priority.

Players Who Chose Home – And Those Who Couldn’t

Doku’s stance is not new. Others have walked the same path, some with less noise around them.

In 2018, Fabian Delph left England’s World Cup base in Russia to return home for the birth of his daughter. That same year, David Silva missed two matches for Manchester City after his son was born prematurely. The club and the supporters understood. So did David de Gea’s employers when, in 2021, he was granted extended leave during the Covid pandemic as his partner Edurne gave birth to their daughter.

Sometimes, though, players have no choice but to watch from afar.

This weekend, Norway defender Leo Ostigard saw his son born on FaceTime while he remained at the World Cup. Ruben Neves went through something similar in January 2021, watching the birth 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, but pandemic travel restrictions blocked his plans to join her.

The pattern stretches beyond football. Last week, cricketer Jamie Smith missed England’s second Test defeat by New Zealand after the birth of his daughter. In 2010, Sir James Anderson flew back between Ashes Tests in Australia to be present for the arrival of his second child.

In the NBA, Anthony Edwards left at half-time of a game in 2024 to be at the birth of his daughter. 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.

Not everyone has taken that road. In 2017, darts player Rob Cross missed the birth of his third child in order to qualify for the World Matchplay. For some, the stakes, the timing, the career context tilt the scales the other way.

What Comes First?

Strip away the noise and the Doku debate lands on a simple, uncomfortable question for modern sport: how much of a man’s life does the game own?

He is 24, on the cusp of his prime, representing his country at a World Cup. He is also a husband and about to become a father for the first time. Somewhere between the training ground, the federation offices and the delivery suite, a choice will be made.

Whatever he decides, one thing is clear. The days when players were expected to live entirely for the shirt, to miss births and funerals and milestones without protest, are slipping away.

The next time a star looks at his phone, sees that call, and walks out of a stadium, will anyone really be able to say they didn’t see it coming?