Anatomy of a Defeat

Following the defeat against Australia at the 2026 FIFA World Cup, football once again became one of the country's main topics of conversation. Yet as I listened to the discussions, something other than football itself caught my attention. Suddenly, the national team players' hair, eyebrows, beards and hair colours became subjects of debate. As though the result of the match had been decided not on the pitch, but in a barber's chair. And yet, just a few days earlier, those very same appearances had attracted no attention. It wasn't the hair that had changed. It was the way we looked at it.




HAKAN BAHAR    

 Victory makes many details invisible. The winning body is not questioned. Its hair becomes a style statement, its appearance is read as confidence, and the care it takes of itself is considered part of its professionalism. With defeat, however, the same body begins to carry different meanings. What was perceived as charisma one day can be interpreted as a sign of frivolity the next. This is why defeats in sport are read not only through the game itself, but also through bodies. Every defeat demands an explanation, and more often than not, that explanation is sought in the images before our eyes rather than in the complex reasons behind what happened on the pitch.    

Pierre Bourdieu's concept of symbolic capital comes to mind here. Success does not simply produce results; it also gives meaning to bodies. The winning body is justified. The losing body, on the other hand, becomes a problem that demands an explanation. This is why the same haircut, the same moustache or the same style can be interpreted in entirely different ways depending on the outcome. What actually changes is not the body itself, but the social meaning attributed to it.    

One of the significant contradictions of modern football emerges precisely here. Today's footballer is no longer simply an athlete; he is also an image, a brand and a visible public figure. He appears in advertising campaigns, is followed on social media, and his clothing and appearance become subjects of discussion. He is expected to take care of himself. Yet when he fails, that same visibility begins to work against him. As Michel Foucault pointed out, modern society does not merely produce bodies; it also constantly monitors and judges them. Footballers are no exception to this scrutiny.    

This is why I don't believe that aesthetic preferences are at the heart of the debates surrounding hair and style after a defeat. The real issue is the male body perceived to have failed. Masculinity is still largely defined through discipline, sacrifice and the idea of dedicating oneself entirely to one's work. As a result, when a man succeeds, his appearance enriches his story; when he fails, that same appearance becomes a subject of scrutiny. Was he truly focused enough? Did he devote himself to his work? Or was he preoccupied with other things? The answers to these questions are often sought not in performance, but in the body.    

Perhaps this is why we talk about footballers' hair after a defeat. Because discussing a playing system, youth development policies, tactical decisions or institutional shortcomings is far more difficult. Talking about a haircut, on the other hand, is much easier. But then we have to ask ourselves: when we try to explain a defeat, are we really talking about football, or are we talking about the expectations society has constructed around the male body?