Former Premier League powerhouse Nemanja Matic is in hot water after choosing tape over tolerance. During Lyon’s recent Ligue 1 match against Angers on May 17—held in honor of International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia (IDAHOBIT)—the Serbian midfielder boldly covered up an anti-homophobia logo on his jersey with a strip of white tape. While the rest of his teammates wore rainbow-themed patches as part of a league-wide show of support, Matic made a different kind of statement.
The move didn’t go unnoticed. Fans spotted the tape as Matic entered the match as a second-half substitute, and post-match photos only amplified the backlash. His decision echoes a similar protest last year by Monaco’s Mohamed Camara, who received a four-match ban for hiding the symbol. It’s likely Matic could face a similar penalty, as French football authorities weigh his actions.
Pride, Prejudice, and the Pitch
This isn’t an isolated case. Other players, including Nantes forward Mostafa Mohamed, opted out of participating in this year’s initiative altogether. Mohamed, citing religious and personal values, said, “Everyone carries their own story, culture and sensitivity… I believe in mutual respect.” While that statement sounds lovely on a bumper sticker, choosing not to support anti-homophobia campaigns sends a clear—and hurtful—message to queer fans and players alike.
Meanwhile, across the Channel, England defender Marc Guehi stirred the pot by scribbling “I Love Jesus” across his rainbow-colored captain’s armband. Ipswich Town’s Sam Morsy went even further and refused to wear the armband completely, citing religious beliefs. For a sport that claims to champion inclusion, some players seem more concerned with preaching their truth than standing up for those still fighting to be accepted.
Impact on LGBTQ+ Fans
For LGBTQ+ fans and athletes, these stunts are more than PR disasters—they’re personal. Football remains a space where queer identities are often erased or hidden. Campaigns like the one Matic defied are rare moments when LGBTQ+ supporters see themselves respected and represented in a deeply heteronormative sport. Covering up a rainbow may seem like a small gesture, but for queer viewers watching from the sidelines—or the closet—it reads loud and clear: “You’re not welcome here.”
While freedom of belief should always be respected, so too should the lives and dignity of queer people—especially in global spaces like football, where representation is both powerful and necessary. The real win would be creating a sport where nobody feels like they have to tape over support for basic human rights.