I don’t believe football is failing Vinícius Júnior by accident. It is failing him by choice.

I am here only to bring my voice. I have always said I use this platform to speak about what I love most. And in the world of sports, there is nothing I absolute adore more than football: The Beautiful Game.

But today, my tone is different. Still emotional, I can never detach from that, but less poetic, because this does not require poetry. It requires clarity.

When abuse surfaces, and when I say abuse, I am not speaking only about skin colour, I mean any form of it. The dismissal of women players as “too emotional.” The hostility directed at immigrants told to “go back where you came from.” Refugees reduced to political discomfort. Black players subjected to monkey chants in European stadiums.

Abuse is layered. It mutates. But it is always the same poison.

And what disturbs me most is not only what happens in the stands or on the pitch. It is the response from those in positions of authority. That response tells us everything about what the game truly stands for.
The oppressed are still expected to absorb the trauma, defend their joy, and prove their honesty, while institutions hesitate, deflect, and diminish.
Instead of acting as a peacemaker in a volatile moment, the referee chose to book Vini for dancing. For celebrating. For expressing himself. Rather than calm the chaos, he punished the most expressive player on the pitch at that moment.

You don’t like Real Madrid? Fine.

You don’t like Vini? Good for you.

But we cannot leave our humanity behind.

I have heard the comments: He brings it on himself. He is always like this. He shows off.

But let’s talk honestly about provocation in football.
 Many remember the game at Santiago Bernabéu when the magisterial Lionel Messi took off his shirt and held it up to the Real Madrid supporters. It was painful for some, brilliant for others, but undeniably iconic. A monument of the sport.

No one asked whether he should “swallow it.”
No one suggested he invited abuse.
It was called passion.
It was called greatness.

Now imagine Vinícius Júnior doing the same at Camp Nou.

Would it be called iconic?
Or would it be called provocation?

That is the difference. That is the standard.

The refusal to even acknowledge the possibility that Vini might be telling the truth is revealing. When José Mourinho implied Vini had provoked the abuse, he leaned into a dangerous narrative: that racism is reaction, not responsibility. Coming from one of the most celebrated provocateurs in football, the hypocrisy is stark.

And what message does that send to the next generation?

What are children in school meant to learn from this?
That if you are loud, expressive, or confident, you deserve whatever comes your way?
That hiding your mouth while saying something cruel makes it acceptable?
That accountability disappears if you can frame prejudice as “provocation”?

When leaders normalize that logic, they are not just managing a match. They are shaping the moral vocabulary of the future.

So yes, forgive me if this sounds like I am vomiting frustration.

But let me be clear:
If you believe provocation justifies racism, then you are excusing racism.
If Black joy makes you uncomfortable enough to rationalize abuse, you are a racist.

The question is no longer whether Vini will continue to rise above it. He will. He always does. He is bigger than the smallness thrown at him.

The real question is this: When will football’s authorities, and its power structures, decide that protecting him, and anyone subjected to abuse, is not optional?

Until the game decides who it wants to be,
Baila, Vini.

Image courtesy of Netflix