It is not a complex task to summon iconic images of athletes crying if asked to. Captured footage of athletes overcome by the joys of victory or distraught as the ramifications of personal and professional failure sink in is rather plentiful. Think Michael Jordan sobbing into the Larry O’Brian trophy after winning his 4th NBA Championship in 1996 for the former, and Paul Gascoigne’s tears at Italia ‘90 following the yellow card that would have seen him suspended for the final for the latter. Where the real interest comes in, is in how these visceral, emotional reactions to sports are interpreted by the wider population of fans and media alike. This is perhaps especially key in the modern world of sports, where many athletes are very guarded and media-trained, making these raw outbreaks of vulnerability even more meaningful. Tears are powerful — they have the power to reinforce certain narratives but in other situations can seem to overcome them. What they certainly help us discover is how much our perception of athletes is shaped by media narratives — an increasing reality given the expansion of digital sports media coverage.
One of the most notable recent examples of tears fueling narratives against an athlete — a young, up-and-coming one at that — comes from the world of Major League Baseball. Roki Sasaki emerged during the early 2020s as the best pitcher in Japan, despite being only 19 when he made his professional debut in May 2021. He dominated the Japanese NPB (Nippon Professional Baseball, the highest level of baseball in Japan) for four seasons, before choosing to forfeit a contract extension in Japan which would likely have been worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Instead, he signed a rookie-scale contract with the World Series champion Los Angeles Dodgers. The overwhelming reaction to the signing was anger. The Dodgers, led by all-time great and Japanese national hero Shohei Ohtani, were already heavy favourites to win the 2025 World Series, and the signing of such a special talent in Sasaki at a hugely discounted price seemed, frankly, unfair on the rest of the league.
So when Sasaki struggled in his first few starts in MLB, and was pictured in tears in the dugout after a tough outing against the Detroit Tigers, baseball media and fans jumped at the opportunity to pile on the young ace. The underlying frustration at his signing with the world-champion Dodgers came bubbling to the surface at the first sign of weakness. The emotions on display from Sasaki led to former MLB all-star Jonathan Lucroy calling him ‘soft’ in a post on X. This garnered some criticism but seemed a fair representation of what many within the baseball world thought of Sasaki. It seems fair to say that a lot of this rhetoric was fueled by hope more than anything else. Hope that Sasaki is in fact ‘soft’ and that the Dodgers have not managed to acquire world-leading talent at a fraction of its typical price. Yet, the power of media-driven narratives in the wake of his very human reaction to a failure has created the sense that this 23-year-old cannot hack it in the ‘big leagues’.
An interesting contrast to the narratives created around Sasaki’s tears comes from his LA Dodgers teammate and MLB legend, Freddie Freeman. Freeman played for 12 years on the Atlanta Braves, solidifying his legacy as one of the greatest Braves of all time through his winning the National League MVP in 2020 and leading the Braves to a World Series Championship in 2021. Yet, during the offseason immediately after said World Series win, contract disputes between the Braves and Freeman’s agent meant the local hero upended and headed, naturally, to LA to sign a 6-year, $162 million deal with the Dodgers. The public and media response was once again anger, but not directed at Freeman. Instead, the victim of the popular wrath was the Braves front office, who were crucified for not trying harder to retain a franchise legend, and for refusing to pay him what he deserved. Freeman was overcome with emotion in his first return to Atlanta during the 2022 season, which only served to support the idea that Freeman had been torn away from Atlanta not out of his own pursuit of money and glory in LA, but due to the professional incompetence of the Braves. Freeman’s tears in fact earned him plaudits for being open with his emotions around the situation and admitting his long-standing love for Atlanta baseball through his vulnerability.
The importance of public perception and media narratives in how moments of vulnerability from athletes are received becomes immediately obvious when these examples are paralleled. Roki Sasaki was in tears over baseball, and people called him ‘soft’ and ‘overrated’ because they didn’t like that he was now a Dodger. Freddie Freeman was in tears over baseball and people praised his character because they didn’t like that he was now a Dodger. Context matters in both cases, but when boiled down to the basics, the irony of the baseball world having such opposing reactions to Sasaki’s sobs and Freeman’s tears is apparent.
But of course, this degree of narrative-building around athletes displaying human emotion is not limited to the game of baseball. Take Caleb Williams for example, the star quarterback at the University of Southern California, who collapsed crying into his mother’s arms after a loss to Washington during the 2023/24 College Football season that effectively ended USC’s chances of winning anything that year, which was to be Williams’ last season of college football. Williams had already risen as a figure that served to divide opinion throughout fans and media alike, with many overlooking his generational quarterback talent due to him painting his nails. As you can probably imagine, people who took against Williams for his choice of nail accessory jumped at the chance to label the 21-year-old ‘soft’ and ‘a child’ for his emotional vulnerability in the face of a crushing defeat.
It should come as no real surprise that the world of sports and sports coverage, both from fans and media outlets, can be a toxic place. Athletes are expected to perform at the absolute top level physically and keep their emotions in check whilst maintaining visible amounts of passion for what they do. However, whilst professional athletes may operate at immense levels physically, they are and always will still be human beings. Thus, when emotions do get out of hand, public perception of the athletes in question will dictate what narratives emerge. If the public finds themself in support of the athlete, vulnerability can be used to humanise; but if the populous is opposed to a certain athlete, vulnerability certainly can be – and has been — used to demonise.