Football Star Banned for SpongeBob Pants

When Iran’s Football Federation handed down a six-month ban to Persepolis goalie Sosha Makani, the news made international headlines: it took only a few hours for the British newspaper the Guardian to report that the 29-year-old Iranian footballer had been suspended for wearing bright yellow trousers.

“Makani had previously run into trouble over some private photos, an episode which landed him in Evin Prison,” reported Iranian news outlet Varzesh 3. “The former national team goalkeeper’s saga has continued with the publication of a series of photos portraying Makani in SpongeBob SquarePants trousers and a T-shirt with nonsense text, sparking such outcry that the ethics committee of the Iranian Football Federation finally resolved to suspend him.” 

It would seem that Iran has finally achieved self-sufficiency in the field of depriving itself of things: we no longer have any need to import misery from overseas. Sosha Makani — who is goalkeeper for both the national team and Persepolis — was sent to Evin once for the publication of private photographs of himself and his girlfriend; now he’s being suspended from play for six months for a photo showing him in electric yellow pants (or, as they’ve become known in Iran, “SpongeBob trousers”). The punishment is perhaps worthy of the Guinness Book of Records. 

Varzesh 3 also quoted a member of the Football Federation’s disciplinary committee: “We invited Makani to the ethics committee several times in order to hear his side of things. He did not, however, make himself present, and he provided no explanation for this.” Makani's main shortcoming this time around might thus be thought of as a mere breach of familial etiquette.

Here it might be useful to interject the words of football star Mehdi Mahdavikia, who criticized the Iranian federation’s disciplinary committee in 2011: “When I played for Hamburg, I was only suspended once from the Bundesliga because of a rough tackle. My suspension lasted four sessions. I received no letter, nor was I expected to go explain myself to the German Football Federation. They’d seen the film and rendered their judgment: either sit out four games or pay two games’ worth of fines as a penalty. They didn’t even give me a chance to protest.”

Mahdikian said his club deducted the sum of the fine from his contract and paid it to the Federation’s account, not once protesting against the decision. The Iranian Football Federation, however, works differently. First it extends an invitation. If the offending party shows up, they negotiate and sometimes try to reach a compromise; if not, they issue decisions such as the one they gave Makani: a ban on “all activity in Iranian football for six months.” 

The ethics committee official also told Varzesh 3 news that the judgment bears “no relation to the previous issue” and his subsequent jailing. “We made our decision based on this player’s style of dress and the effect he personally exerts on society,” the official said. 

This isn’t the first time the federation’s ethics committee and the Ministry of Sports have waded into the personal affairs of players. Footballers Askhan Dejagah and Sardar Azmoun had previously been summoned because of their tattoos. Neither showed up before officials for questioning, and the national team's head coach Carlos Queiroz was forced to threaten Ali Kafashian — then president of the Iranian Football Federation — with the prospect of his resignation should intervention into the personal affairs of his players continue.

Following the incident, Queiroz coached from the sidelines wearing a tie. “There is an unwritten law for foreign men in Iranian sports,” Asr-e Iran newspaper reported. “It is generally recommended that they refrain from wearing Western-style neckties in order to respect the government’s customs and mores.” This is but one of the protocols that Raza Hassanikho, head of the Sports and Youth Ministry’s moral vigilance body, mentioned in his December 2015 address to coaches and heads of Iran’s Football Federation. 

The important point is that an Iranian football player has been suspended from play for a six-month span — not because of aggression, fouls, or any sort of on-field violation, but simply for putting on a loud pair of Spongebob pants. When the federation is expected to subordinate itself to the Sports Ministry, it’s issues around an athlete’s trousers that assume importance. It’s no longer significant that, just last year, a player had been making 150 million tomans ($49,200) annually with the club Seba Qom and this year joined a ministry team for 980 million ($321,275), with 30 percent of that sum set aside for the team’s owners. Players wearing bright yellow pants elicit penalties, and nothing is done about exorbitant commissions. 

It might be useful to view Makani’s suspension in a global context. To give examples: Louis Suarez, a Uruguay national team player who bit Italian defender Giorgio Chellini on the shoulder during a 2014 World Cup game, was penalized with a nine-game suspension. The most severe and longest football suspension in English history was handed down to Eric Cantona. Ejected from a 1995 Manchester United vs. Crystal Palace match, a spectator hurled a racist epithet at Cantona as he was exiting the field. Cantona responded with a kick to the face and proceeded to beat the spectator senseless. He has never expressed remorse for his conduct. He claims still that it was  a high point in his life, and that given the chance he’d beat up the hooligan again. For such an act, the British Football Union issued a nine-month suspension – a penalty that was met with much media criticism. “Instead of suspending Cantona, you ought to teach your fans some manners!” said one commentator.

But this is what life is like for a sports celebrity in Iran today: A photograph of an Iranian footballer is shared on social media. He didn't bite or kick anyone, yet he’s been banned from playing for half a year – just for wearing a pair of pants.