Whatever Happened To Private Conversations?

Last night a footballer was sent off for covering his mouth while speaking to an opponent.

Which came as something of a surprise.

When I was younger, covering your mouth while saying something impolite was generally considered good manners.

The theory was quite simple.

You didn’t necessarily stop yourself saying something you might later regret.

You simply tried not to broadcast it to forty thousand people and a television audience of several million.

It seemed a reasonable compromise.

Apparently not anymore.

These days footballers can’t exchange a few words without somebody demanding an investigation.

There are cameras everywhere.

Microphones everywhere.

Experts analysing every angle.

And, most remarkably of all, people whose job appears to involve reading lips from three hundred yards away.

I wasn’t even aware that was a profession until a few years ago.

When I started watching football, players said things to each other all the time.

Most of it was probably unprintable.

Some of it was probably quite funny.

The important thing was that nobody else knew what had been said.

The referee didn’t know.

The crowd didn’t know.

The newspapers didn’t know.

Life carried on.

Now every conversation seems to require forensic examination.

A player covers his mouth and immediately the football world reacts as though he’s attempting to exchange state secrets.

There are debates.

Panels.

Investigations.

Social media detectives.

Before long, half the country is discussing a conversation that nobody actually heard.

Which strikes me as slightly odd.

Football is becoming increasingly determined to remove every last trace of mystery.

We have VAR examining tackles frame by frame.

Statistics measuring things nobody previously knew needed measuring.

And now we’re apparently expected to know every word spoken between two players standing in the middle of a football pitch.

Whatever happened to a little uncertainty?

Sometimes not knowing is perfectly acceptable.

In fact, it’s rather refreshing.

Not every conversation requires a transcript.

Not every disagreement requires a committee.

Not every incident requires three days of analysis.

Mind you, perhaps I’m showing my age.

Maybe modern life simply cannot tolerate unanswered questions.

Perhaps people would rather spend an entire week debating what somebody might have said than enjoy the football itself.

Personally, I preferred the old system.

If two players were having a private conversation, we accepted that it was private.

If they covered their mouths while doing it, we assumed they were being discreet.

Or polite.

Or both.

And if we didn’t know what was said, we got on with our lives.

Which, now I think about it, sounds like a rather sensible approach.

Anyway, what do I know?

I’m just a grumpy old man.

Let me know what YOU think in the Comments below — I always enjoy hearing other people’s take on the madness.