From Suarez and Evra to Prestianni and Vinicius: Why clubs keep defending the indefensible

Last Updated on 18 February 2026

In 2011, Liverpool’s players walked out at Loftus Road wearing white shirts bearing Luis Suarez’s face, a show of unity for a teammate accused of racially abusing Patrice Evra. The message was unmistakable: the club stood with its own, regardless of the charge.

Years later, even insiders admitted it was a grave misstep. Fast forward to today, and football again finds itself in familiar territory. Allegations emerge, denials follow, and institutions instinctively shield their assets. The specifics may differ, but the reflex remains the same.

The latest flashpoint came after Benfica’s match with Real Madrid, where Gianluca Prestianni was accused of directing racist abuse toward Vinicius Junior, as per beIN Sports. Whether the claim is ultimately proven or not, the pattern of response is unmistakably old.

Football’s bunker mentality: defend first, investigate later

For clubs, a first-team player is not an individual, he is a multi-million asset tied to results, brand value and competitive edge. Any admission of wrongdoing risks suspension, reputational damage and financial loss. The instinct, therefore, is containment.

In the Luis Suarez case, the defense from Liverpool was loud and visible: public statements, symbolic shirts, overt defiance. Today it is often quieter but no less firm, legalistic denials, emphasis on lack of evidence, appeals to due process.

Benfica’s swift rejection of the accusation and Jose Mourinho’s backing of Prestianni fit squarely within this evolved playbook. There is also the pressure of tribalism. Clubs operate inside emotional ecosystems where fans expect unconditional loyalty to their own.

To concede even partial fault can feel, internally, like betrayal. The result is a siege mentality: the club versus everyone else, opponents, media, governing bodies, even the alleged victim.

Distorting the victim: how clubs use PR to shift the narrative

When allegations surface, focus frequently drifts from the accused to the accuser. In 2011, Evra’s credibility and character were scrutinized as much as Suarez’s. In today’s world, players like Vinicius, already frequent targets of abuse, often find themselves cast as provocateurs.

This narrative shift works subtly. References to temperament, on-field behavior or prior controversies are invoked to dilute the gravity of the accusation. The burden of perfection is placed on the alleged victim. If he is emotional, confrontational or outspoken, his claim is framed as less credible.

The danger is institutional complicity. By reflexively defending individuals without transparent accountability, clubs risk becoming participants in the very culture they publicly condemn.

Anti-racism slogans adorn sleeves and stadium boards, yet credibility erodes when responses to allegations prioritize reputation management over ethical clarity. From Anfield’s shirts of solidarity to modern boardroom denials, the script has evolved in tone but not in substance.

Until clubs learn that accountability strengthens rather than weakens them, football will remain trapped in a cycle where the crest still outweighs the cause.