Roberto De Zerbi’s apology in his first interview as Tottenham Hotspur head coach for past comments about Mason Greenwood was important. It was also insufficient.
That is the central argument made by Chris Paouros, who says the exchange highlights a wider problem in football: when men in positions of power are challenged over violence against women, the response is too often framed as personal explanation rather than real accountability.
De Zerbi apologised for remarks he had made about Greenwood when the forward was under his management at Marseille. Spurs supporter groups, including Proud Lilywhites and Women of the Lane, both co-founded by Paouros, were among those who criticised him. De Zerbi said he had never intended to downplay male violence against women.
The article notes that Greenwood denied charges of attempted rape, controlling and coercive behaviour, and assault occasioning actual bodily harm in 2022. The case was later discontinued.
Paouros argues that the fact De Zerbi responded at all matters. In her view, silence from men in powerful roles is itself part of the problem. Too often, she suggests, people with influence avoid the issue entirely rather than confront it directly. From that perspective, an apology is better than retreat.
But, the piece says, there is a difference between speaking and taking responsibility. De Zerbi’s comments were presented as an explanation of intent, not an acceptance of the wider harm caused by downplaying violence against women. That distinction matters, particularly in football, where public statements from managers and club figures carry weight well beyond the dressing room.
The broader concern raised is not only about one apology or one interview. It is about what football is prepared to demand from its leaders when the subject is violence against women. A statement that says “I did not mean it that way” may acknowledge discomfort, but it does not necessarily address the deeper culture that allows such remarks to pass with limited consequence.
Paouros frames the issue as one of accountability. If football wants change, she argues, there must be more than regrettable language and carefully worded clarification. Men in the game who speak irresponsibly on issues of male violence against women should be held to account in a meaningful way, not simply given room to explain themselves.
That call for accountability sits alongside a wider challenge for the sport. Football often presents itself as a powerful social institution, one with the reach to shape attitudes and set standards. But when it comes to violence against women, the response from those at the top can still feel hesitant, defensive or incomplete.
The significance of De Zerbi’s apology, then, lies not only in what he said but in what it exposed. It showed that criticism from supporters and campaigners can force a response. It also showed that response alone is not the same as responsibility.
For Paouros, that is the real lesson. If football is serious about confronting male violence against women, it must move beyond apology as a public-relations exercise. It needs transparency, consistency and consequences. Without those, she suggests, the game risks repeating the same cycle: harm, criticism, partial regret, and then business as usual.
The debate sparked by De Zerbi’s remarks is therefore about more than one manager, one player or one interview. It goes to the heart of how football treats violence against women when it appears in the orbit of the game. And it asks whether the sport is ready to demand better from those who lead it.
