Jeremy Doku Prioritizes Family Over Football Amid World Cup Pressure
Jeremy Doku has already made his choice. Before a ball is kicked in a potential World Cup quarter-final, before the noise and the pressure and the flags, the Manchester City winger has drawn a line.
Family first.
The 24-year-old is due to become a father next month. His wife Shireen is expecting their first child in the second week of July, right when Belgium might be fighting for a place among the last eight. If those dates collide, Doku wants to walk out of the Belgium camp and into a delivery room.
"If you ask me what I want, my answer is that nobody wants to miss the birth of their first child," he told Reuters. He also knows the reality of elite sport: contracts, expectations, a federation, a nation. “Football involves many other considerations,” he said. “We’ll see what we can do.”
That tension – between the job and the life that exists beyond it – exploded into public view after a TV presenter dismissed his stance in brutal terms.
Backlash to "disgusting" comment
On L'Equipe’s television channel, presenter France Pierron criticised Doku’s wish to leave the camp, saying a father is "completely useless" at the time of birth and calling it a "disgusting moment".
The response was instant and furious.
L'Equipe moved quickly, issuing a statement apologising and stressing that Pierron’s remarks were "very far removed" from the organisation’s values. The presenter apologised herself, and reports in France said she would not front her show on Monday.
Footballers, fans, and voices far beyond the game lined up behind Doku. The idea that a player should be shamed for wanting to be present at the birth of his first child struck a nerve that went well past Belgium’s Group G.
Doku had played 86 minutes of Belgium’s opening 1-1 draw with Egypt but missed the 0-0 stalemate with Iran through illness. His importance on the pitch is clear. His importance off it, he is now insisting, is non-negotiable.
"It only happens once"
England striker Ollie Watkins, a father of two, did not mince his words.
"I think someone labelled it disgusting and I think for a start that's not a way to label a birth," he said. Watkins spoke from experience, from the memory of watching his own partner go through labour.
"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."
Watkins’ words cut through the noise. They also echoed a growing sentiment across sport: players are workers, but they are also partners, parents, human beings.
Players, not gladiators
The Professional Footballers’ Association stepped in with a firm stance. The demands on footballers, 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."
The Fatherhood Institute, which campaigns for men to be active, present caregivers, drew an even starker picture.
"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. Footballers as modern gladiators, pushed into the arena, applauded, criticised, bought and sold – but expected to mute the most basic instinct to be there when their child is born.
A gap in the rulebook
Fifa’s regulations spell out maternity rights for women’s players: at least 14 weeks of paid leave, with eight weeks after the birth. There is no equivalent protection for fathers in the men’s game.
So players and clubs improvise.
One club, wary of the clock and the contractions, once stationed a car outside the stadium with the engine running, ready to whisk a player away if his partner went into labour mid-match.
A manager at a top-flight European side skipped travelling with his team altogether when his wife was about to give birth to their second child. He watched the game on television, earpiece in, relaying instructions to his assistants.
"I was on the earpiece to the bench and 10 minutes into the game she started getting labour pains," recalled the coach, 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."
The line says everything. The game doesn’t stop. But life doesn’t either.
A long list of choices
Doku is far from the first to stand at this crossroads.
In 2018, Fabian Delph left England’s World Cup camp in Russia to return home for the birth of his daughter. The stakes were enormous, the tournament unforgiving, but Delph chose the delivery room over the dugout.
David Silva missed two Manchester City matches in 2018 after the premature arrival of his son. The club, chasing trophies, accepted that absence. So did the fans.
David de Gea was given extended leave by Manchester United in 2021, during the Covid pandemic, when his partner Edurne gave birth to their daughter. Travel restrictions, testing, quarantine – the logistics were complicated. The principle was not.
Others never made it to the hospital.
This weekend, Norway defender Leo Ostigard watched the birth of his son on FaceTime while at the World Cup. The moment came through a screen, the celebrations shared via pixels and patchy Wi-Fi.
Ruben Neves went through something similar in January 2021. His wife had returned to Portugal for the birth of their third child, under the care of her own doctor. Neves planned to join her, but pandemic travel rules blocked the way. After Wolves’ 1-0 defeat at Crystal Palace, he watched the birth on his phone, on the team bus, miles away from the delivery room.
The dilemma runs across sports.
Cricketer Jamie Smith skipped England’s second Test defeat by New Zealand last week following the birth of his daughter. In 2010, James Anderson flew back between Ashes Tests in Australia to be present for the birth of his second child, then returned to bowl for the urn.
Basketball star Anthony Edwards walked out at half-time of a game in 2024 to make it to the birth of his daughter. Sir Andy Murray said in 2016 he would leave the Australian Open early 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 admitted.
Not everyone made the same call. Darts player Rob Cross missed the birth of his third child in 2017 to secure qualification for the World Matchplay. A different sport, a different choice, the same brutal calculation: career versus cradle.
Where does the line sit now?
That is the landscape into which Jeremy Doku steps. A young winger, a first child on the way, a World Cup campaign in full swing, and a public debate he never asked to ignite.
He has been clear about what he wants. The federation has signalled understanding. The regulations lag behind the reality. The reaction to Pierron’s comments shows how sharply attitudes are shifting.
The question now is not just whether Doku will be there for the birth of his child.
It is whether football – a sport that demands everything – is finally ready to accept that sometimes, even in the middle of a World Cup, "everything" has to include walking away.
