I’m often told that the sports media industry is getting better and there are more opportunities for women who want to work there. I’m not so sure. It’s great that the BBC’s Olympic presenting team is now led by a woman this summer and there are more female faces pitchside at the men’s Euros. But there’s still a long way to go. The microaggressions that have littered me and my female friends and contemporaries over our 16-year careers still persist, with the constant need to prove we’re better than men who are equally or less qualified. I haven’t seen any change in the way people treat me now that I’m treated as a “talent” rather than the runner/chore-girl I was when I started in broadcasting.
I work in a variety of sports and I always do my homework because I have to prove that I am worthy to stand in front of the microphone. This year I hosted a few sports shows in the Middle East. Although it wasn’t my “main” sport, I was accompanied by an analyst who delved into the intricacies and what was happening on the field. To get the best out of him, I had to know a lot, but most importantly, be able to put together a broadcast. I had to follow the progression, take cues from the audience and know what questions to ask the analyst.
A few days before I left, the producer called me to discuss what would happen once I got there. The producer and I discussed what the show would be like, what level of expertise would be required, etc. “Oh,” he said lightly, seemingly surprised by my question. “Don’t worry. The channel doesn’t care if you don’t know what you’re talking about, as long as you look attractive.”
sorry?
My petrostate funders might not have cared if I knew what was going on, but I’m a journalist, not a beauty pageant contestant, so I certainly did. Of course, this kind of thing is nothing new. But the fact that it’s still happening in 2024 is exhausting.
In my other job, I present sports news for a well-known international broadcaster. At the start of a recent shift, I was busily writing up some pre-air draft material when a staff member from another show approached the row of desks where I and a few others were working together. He addressed everyone present. “Hello,” he said. “We’re looking for a sports presenter. I believe you’re in studio, are you there?”
It was great to see the BBC’s Olympic team led by a woman this summer, and the men’s Euros also saw more female faces pitchside and as presenters. Photo: Dave Shopland/Shutterstock
I spun in my chair. “No,” I said. “She’s here.” I felt like I’d dropped my microphone, and the man was visibly embarrassed. His question about the host’s whereabouts was innocuous, but it made me angry because there was always the assumption (however unconscious) that I was taking a man’s job. All the while, we’re being told to believe the narrative that sports broadcasting is changing.
Unfortunately, it’s the same in the UK. When I travel for work I am met with disrespect from sports fans and colleagues alike. At a recent commentary job, I was asked if I was a broadcast assistant on arrival, and colleagues have questioned how much I know about rugby and even got some of my facts wrong.
I usually try to stay out of YouTube comments, but one person recently said, “I was pleasantly surprised by this female commentator,” while another argued that I should be fired on air, saying, “This woman is painful to listen to.” Whenever I tell people I’m a commentator, they always ask me if I played professionally. When I answer no, most people ask if I know enough about the sport to provide insight and analysis. It’s a legitimate question, and it’s not just viewers who ask me this. My male contemporaries have done the same. It may be a legitimate question, but it’s unfair that men don’t ask it as often. The answer is, “Because I’m a professional sportscaster.”
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Some men I know in the industry feel that they are missing out on jobs that are favored over women and that their noses are the problem. I was once told, “You only got this job because you’re a woman.” I responded, “How about you were chosen first because you’re a man?” This industry has never been strictly meritocratic, and you can’t evaluate people objectively. There is no “data” to compare our sales figures, the success rate of our treatments, the number of clients we attract. It’s all subjective, and someone, somewhere, will feel that they are more deserving of a job than someone else.
Are there women in the press box at lower league soccer matches or less prestigious events in other sports? There are a few, of course, but not enough. It’s not that women lack skill or ambition, but they always seem to have to jump through extra hurdles to prove to recruiters that they are competent. Men simply don’t get the same criticism. It’s also become common to hear people say that women shouldn’t tackle men’s soccer because it’s a “totally different game” from women’s soccer. It’s not a different game at all. It’s just the same game played by different genders. Kabaddi, for example, is a completely different game.
Rebecca Adams is a sports anchor