Jeremy Doku's World Cup Dilemma: Family vs. Football

Jeremy Doku has already made his World Cup decision. It has nothing to do with tactics, formations or opponents. It has everything to do with a delivery room.

The Manchester City winger is due to become a father next month and has been blunt about his priorities: if Belgium are still in the tournament when his wife goes into labour, he wants to leave the camp and go home.

"If you ask me what I want, my answer is that nobody wants to miss the birth of their first child," the 24-year-old told Reuters. No caveats. No pretence that football comes first.

That stance should be unremarkable in 2026. It took a TV storm in France to prove it still isn’t.

A TV rant, a backlash, and a climbdown

On L'Equipe’s television channel, presenter France Pierron dismissed the idea of Doku leaving the World Cup as if it were an indulgence. She said a father is "completely useless" at the birth and described the moment itself as "disgusting".

The reaction was instant and fierce, from inside football and far beyond it. The language jarred, but so did the implication: that a player’s duty to the spectacle outweighs his duty to his family.

L'Equipe moved quickly. In a statement, the outlet apologised, stressing that Pierron’s words were "very far removed" from its values. Pierron apologised as well, and reports in France said she would not present her show on Monday.

The message from the game was very different. This time, it was united.

Doku’s dilemma

On the pitch, Doku’s World Cup has already flickered and stalled. He played 86 minutes of Belgium’s opening 1-1 draw with Egypt in Group G, then missed the goalless draw with Iran through illness.

Off the pitch, the calendar is ticking louder than any stadium clock. His wife Shireen is due to give birth in the second week of July. If Belgium do what Belgium expect to do, that could mean a quarter-final.

A nation’s hopes on one side. A first child on the other.

"But I also know that football involves many other considerations," Doku said. "I know the federation supports its players and understands their situations. We'll see what we can do."

It is the modern player’s tightrope: the rhetoric of “family first” against the reality of tournament schedules, commercial demands and national expectation.

“It only happens once”

Inside dressing rooms, there is far more understanding than some television studios might suggest.

England striker Ollie Watkins, a father of two, did not bother dressing his opinion up.

"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."

Watkins’ words cut to the core of the debate. Players already sacrifice birthdays, school plays, anniversaries. The first child’s birth is the line many refuse to cross.

The Professional Footballers’ Association backed that principle. The union called for demands on players not to come at the expense 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 and real lives

The Fatherhood Institute, which campaigns for men to be hands-on parents, heard the debate and saw something older at work.

"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."

The comparison is uncomfortable because it rings true. Fans and broadcasters demand total commitment. They pay to see players run, tackle, score, suffer. The spectacle is non‑stop. Real life, though, refuses to fit neatly between kick-offs.

Even the rulebook reflects the imbalance. Fifa regulations state that female footballers must receive a minimum of 14 weeks’ paid maternity leave, eight of those after the birth. The men’s game has no equivalent for paternity. No minimum. No standard. Just a patchwork of club policies and private negotiations.

So players improvise.

One club once stationed a car outside the stadium for a player whose partner was due at any moment, ready to whisk him away as soon as the final whistle blew. At a top-flight European side, a manager skipped a match entirely to stay with his wife as she prepared to give birth to their second child.

He watched the game on television, headset on, feeding instructions down the line.

"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.

The sentence is telling. Even in the delivery ward, the next fixture is never far away.

Players who walked away – and those who couldn’t

Doku would not be breaking new ground if he chose to leave a World Cup camp.

In 2018, Fabian Delph flew home from England’s base in Russia for the birth of his daughter, then returned to rejoin the squad. That same year, David Silva missed two matches for Manchester City after his son was born prematurely, with the club and supporters rallying around him.

During the Covid pandemic in 2021, Manchester United goalkeeper David de Gea was granted extended leave when his partner Edurne gave birth to their daughter. Travel restrictions and quarantine rules made the logistics complicated; the club still backed him.

Plenty of others, though, have had to meet their children for the first time through a screen.

Norway defender Leo Ostigard watched the birth of his son on FaceTime while on World Cup duty this weekend. Ruben Neves did the same in January 2021, watching the arrival 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; pandemic travel rules blocked his route to the hospital.

The pattern stretches across sports.

Last week, cricketer Jamie Smith missed England’s second Test defeat by New Zealand after the birth of his daughter. In 2010, James Anderson flew home between Ashes Tests in Australia to be at the birth of his second child, then flew back to continue the series.

Basketball star Anthony Edwards walked out at half-time of a game in 2024 to make it to the delivery room for his daughter’s birth. In 2016, Sir Andy Murray said he would leave the Australian Open early if his wife Kim went into labour, adding: "I'd be way more disappointed winning the Australian Open and not being at the birth of the child."

Not everyone has chosen – or been able – to step away. Darts player Rob Cross missed the birth of his third child in 2017 as he chased qualification for the World Matchplay. For some, the fear of missing a career-defining moment outweighs everything else.

Where does the line sit now?

That is the question sitting in front of Doku as the World Cup calendar creeps towards July. Belgium will want their winger fit, firing and fully focused. His family will want him in the room.

The laws of the game are clear. The laws of life are not.

What happens when a player refuses to play the gladiator and chooses to be a father instead?