The unveiling of this year’s BBC Sports Personality of the Year shortlist follows a ritual more tired than a marathon runner hitting the wall at mile 23. When names like Chloe Kelly and Lando Norris surface as frontrunners, we’re not witnessing an organic celebration of athletic achievement. We’re watching a media conglomerate play puppet master with public sentiment, manipulating nostalgia and nationalism to serve corporate interests disguised as popular judgment.

Consider the cold mechanics of selection. Kelly’s inclusion leans heavily on residual goodwill from England’s 2023 World Cup run, a full two years removed from relevance in football’s relentless calendar. Her actual 2025 contributions? Solid, surely, yet hardly earth shattering. Compare that to the absence of athletes like Emma Finucane, whose world track cycling championship defence included three gold medals in events Britain traditionally dominates yet struggles to televise. The criteria aren’t about achievement. They’re about recognition. And recognition depends entirely on what the BBC chooses to broadcast.

Then there’s the curious case of motorsport’s eternal golden boy Norris. Since the award’s 1954 inception, only two F1 drivers have won despite Britain producing world champions like Stewart, Mansell, and Hamilton. Suddenly, we’ve had finalists four years running, coinciding perfectly with Formula One’s streaming era explosion. Not coincidentally, the BBC now sublices F1 highlights from Sky Sports. This isn’t meritocracy. This is synergy.

The hypocrisy deepens when examining neglected legends. Rehan Asad smashed badminton’s Asian stronghold by winning the All England Open at 19, becoming Britain’s youngest ever champion in a sport with more registered players than rugby. His reward? Being omitted in favor of Rory McIlroy, who hasn’t won a major since his last SPOTY nomination in 2022. Commercial appeal dictates this farce, with golf broadcasts attracting lucrative demographics while badminton remains tucked away on iPlayer’s back pages.

Media memory holing extends to entire disciplines. Wheelchair rugby league athlete James Simpson, who captained England to a groundbreaking World Cup final upset over Australia, received less airtime than Littler’s latest darts walk on music. Paralympic swimmers like Ellie Challis, breaking seven world records this season, get relegated to inspirational vignettes rather than genuine contention. The message is clear, certain sports exist to make audiences feel virtuous. Others exist to actually win awards.

Let’s dismantle the BBC's facade of public engagement. The corporation touts SPOTY as the people’s choice, yet voting restrictions ensure only the most sanitized candidates prevail. Online polls open after a shadowy panel curates the shortlist, filtering out anyone lacking preapproved marketability. Contrast this with France’s L’Équipe Champion of Champions, where voting includes journalists, athletes, and fans in equal measure across multiple categories, or Spain’s Premios Nacionales del Deporte decided by an independent sports council.

The damage reverberates beyond trophy ceremonies. Young athletes in underrepresented sports receive subliminal messaging that excellence alone won’t earn recognition, you must also fit broadcast schedules and sponsor agendas. When wheelchair tennis champion Alfie Hewett spoke about training through pain without medical lottery funding, his interview aired at 11,15 pm. Meanwhile, Norris’ Monaco GP qualifying lap dominated primetime. What lesson does that teach hopefuls choosing between athletics and automotive endorsements?

Even shortlisted athletes become pawns in this game. Hannah Hampton’s inclusion as a backup goalkeeper reeks of tokenism, her actual performance stats paling beside Mary Earps’ continued dominance. But Earps won in 2023, and the BBC needs fresh Lionesses content to promote their crumbling Women’s Super League coverage. Hampton becomes plot device, not person.

Historical patterns reveal this rot runs deep. Rugby league legend Kevin Sinfield earned six consecutive Man of Steel awards yet never made SPOTY’s top three, while Ryan Giggs won the 2009 award for, and I quote, being less grumpy than usual during a quiet season. Jonny Wilkinson drops a World Cup winning drop goal in 2003, loses to a recovering cancer patient. Inspiring, yes, but revealing of inconsistent standards.

The solution isn’t complicated, just uncomfortable. Either admit SPOTY is a televised popularity contest for sports the BBC airs and stop pretending it measures greatness, or rebuild the system from scratch. Create separate categories for team sports versus individual athletes. Implement term limits preventing multiple nominations without fresh achievements. Most crucially, include athletes from all Olympic and Paralympic disciplines in preliminary voting.

Until then, the BBC’s annual exercise serves only to remind us that in modern sports, personality doesn’t mean character, impact, or courage. It means ratings, retweets, and commercial viability. The trophies gleam bright, but the pedestals they sit on? Those are made of hollow intentions and sponsored cardboard.