Those were the scathing words of a frustrated football manager whose outburst has reignited a fierce debate about the state of the modern game. His comments came after an unprecedented incident that saw a top-flight match suspended for more than two hours due to a combination of unforeseen circumstances, ranging from adverse weather to technical failures and security concerns.
The manager’s fury is understandable to anyone who loves the sport in its purest form. Football, by its nature, is a continuous game. Unlike sports that routinely pause for timeouts, breaks, or innings, football’s flow is sacred. Ninety minutes, two halves, one break at half-time — that is the rhythm that millions have grown up with and cherish deeply. Any significant interruption disrupts not just the tactical flow but also the emotional heartbeat that connects players, coaches, and fans in real-time.
When a match is stopped for a couple of minutes due to an injury, a VAR check, or a pitch invasion, it is disruptive enough. But when a game is halted for over two hours, the impact is far more profound. Players stiffen up, adrenaline fades, momentum evaporates, and the atmosphere in the stands sours into confusion and frustration.
In the incident in question, reports suggest a sudden power outage knocked out stadium floodlights just before half-time. As engineers scrambled to fix the problem, torrential rain turned the pitch into a swamp. Then, security concerns about crowd behavior delayed the restart further. By the time the teams returned to the pitch, many fans had already left, soaking wet and angry.
For the players, the restart was almost surreal — the intensity was gone, the rhythm broken. Some players complained of tight muscles and increased risk of injury. Coaches were forced to rethink substitutions and game plans entirely. A match that was once pulsating with energy ended in a drab draw that felt more like a formality than a contest.
It’s not just the players and managers who suffer in these situations. Fans, many of whom spend significant amounts of time and money to attend games, feel cheated. Television audiences, too, are left in limbo. Broadcasters struggle to fill hours of dead air, pundits scramble for talking points, and the sense of occasion vanishes into awkward replays and recycled debates.
But while the manager’s anger is valid, the bigger question is whether the modern game is equipped to handle such unusual interruptions better. Should football adopt clearer contingency plans for extreme weather or technical issues? Should there be maximum time limits for delays? Should games be postponed and replayed instead of forcing everyone to wait for hours in miserable conditions?
Other sports have found ways to manage similar challenges. In cricket, rain delays are common, and fans accept them as part of the game — matches have reserve days, or formats are adjusted to shorter overs. In American football, lightning delays are handled with safety protocols and clear communication to fans. But football has never fully prepared for these rare but disruptive scenarios.
Then there’s the question of technology. The introduction of VAR was meant to help referees make fairer decisions, but it has added its own form of stoppages and frustration. Some argue that football’s leaders are willing to embrace technology when it suits commercial and officiating interests but fail to plan for fundamental logistical risks that can bring games to a standstill.
Underlying all of this is a fear that football is losing touch with its identity — a fast, flowing sport that belongs to the people in the stands and the communities it represents. Long stoppages, prolonged VAR checks, and cold technical fixes risk turning an emotional, human game into something clinical and disconnected.
The manager’s comments may sound like a rant to some, but they echo the sentiment of many fans: that football should protect its soul. Interruptions are sometimes unavoidable — no one can control the weather or a sudden blackout. But how the game responds to these moments speaks volumes about what its leaders value most: the fan experience or rigid schedules driven by broadcasting contracts.
Ultimately, if football is to remain “the beautiful game,” it must find a balance between safety, fairness, and the spirit of continuous play. Two-hour suspensions may be rare, but they should never feel acceptable or normalised. Fans deserve better planning and transparency. Players deserve conditions that protect their health and performance. And managers deserve the chance to win or lose in a contest decided on the pitch — not in a dressing room waiting for the lights to come back on.
As the echoes of that manager’s outburst fade, football’s decision-makers would do well to listen. Because if two-hour delays become just another inconvenience that fans must endure, then maybe, just maybe, we really have forgotten what fo
otball is supposed to be.
