6/5/2025 | sports | GB
The announcement of England’s squad for Euro 2025 should have been a moment of unbridled optimism. Instead, it has become a poignant reminder of the heavy toll elite sports take on even the most celebrated athletes. As Sarina Wiegman prepares to unveil her selections, the absence of three pillars of the Lionesses’ 2022 triumph – Mary Earps, Fran Kirby, and Millie Bright – hangs over the proceedings like a shadow. Their departures, whether through retirement or burnout, expose the uncomfortable truth behind international glory: for every shining moment on the pitch, there are countless unseen sacrifices.
The emotional trigger here isn’t just roster changes; it’s the raw humanity beneath the headlines. When Kirby, with 77 caps to her name, speaks of leaving "with my head held high," it’s a dignified exit masking what must be profound disappointment. Her admission that she had anticipated retiring after the Euros, only to learn she wouldn’t even make the squad, reveals the brutal pragmatism of competitive sports. Similarly, Bright’s Instagram post about prioritizing mental and physical health over national duty should resonate far beyond football. "My pride and ego tells me to go," she wrote, laying bare the internal conflict faced by athletes conditioned to push through pain.
There’s hypocrisy in how we celebrate warrior mentality in sports while feigning surprise when warriors eventually tire. Karen Bardsley, the former England goalkeeper, nailed it when reflecting on Kirby and Earps: "When that decision gets made up for you...you go like ‘there’s a lot of things I’ve sacrificed over a lot of time.’" These women didn’t suddenly become incapable; they reached a breaking point after years of giving what Bright called "every ounce"—a demand we romanticize until it breaks someone.
The human impact extends beyond the players. Families who’ve watched loved ones miss birthdays and anniversaries for training camps understand the cost. Young fans who idolized Kirby now confront the impermanence of sporting careers. Even Wiegman herself, tasked with balancing competitive ruthlessness and player welfare, embodies the impossible tightrope walked by modern coaches. This isn’t unique to England; it’s a global issue in women’s football where expanded calendars collide with still-inadequate recovery protocols.
Societally, these retirements mirror 2020s conversations about workplace burnout and mental health. Bright’s withdrawal specifically citing burnout after 36 grueling matches for Chelsea parallels the «quiet quitting» phenomenon in corporate jobs. Yet while white-collar workers might garner sympathy, athletes are often dismissed as overly paid complainants—a double standard laid bare when Bright, a treble winner, admits she can no longer meet expectations.
Historically, women’s football has fought for legitimacy since the FA’s 1921 ban (only lifted in 1971). The Lionesses’ 2022 victory was supposed to crown that struggle, but today’s challenges reveal how superficial progress can be. Yes, stadiums are fuller and salaries higher, but the structural support—like sports psychology and rotational depth—lags behind the men’s game. When Kirby notes she "didn’t get the accolades she deserved," it hints at how even success couldn’t shield her from being undervalued.
As England prepares to defend their title against powerhouses like France and the Netherlands, Wiegman’s dilemma symbolizes a larger tension. Does she prioritize experience (risking fatigued stars) or youth (gambling on untested talents like 19-year-old Michelle Agyemang)? Her choices will reverberate through locker rooms and living rooms alike, where aspiring players watch how the system treats their heroes.
The solution isn’t simple, but it starts with acknowledging that trophies shouldn’t come at the cost of wellbeing. Federations must mandate rest periods and mental health resources. Fans can celebrate effort as much as results. And perhaps, in this watershed moment, we might redefine what it means to “give your all”—before more careers end not with fireworks, but with weary resignation.
Because when the confetti settles after Euro 2025, no one should have to Instagram an apology for being human.
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By George Thompson, this article was inspired by this source.