Adam Idah racially abused: FAI launches own investigation as Uefa stays aside

On a quiet October evening in the Republic of Ireland, a 3-0 Nations League victory over Israel felt almost perfect. The defence was solid, the midfield moved the ball with calm rhythm, and Adam Idah, the Nigerian-born striker wearing number 11, kept troubling the opposition box with intelligent runs. The home stands sang victory songs. But in a sparse corner, where a small group of Israel supporters sat with blue-and-white flags, something cracked. Jayson Molumby, the number 6, suddenly left his position and ran toward the referee. He pointed to the stands and said a few quick words. The referee listened, nodded, and signalled play to continue. Everything returned to normal. Yet that off-beat moment became the start of a long story about silence, responsibility, and a loophole in European football's disciplinary system. After the match, the Football Association of Ireland (FAI) understood what Molumby had told the referee. He insisted that a group of Israel fans had chanted racist abuse at Adam Idah. The FAI contacted the Uefa match delegate. The reply stunned everyone: because no 'clear allegation' of racism was reported during the game, standard protocols had not been triggered, and Uefa could not open an investigation. In other words, the word of a player on the pitch, who directly heard abuse directed at his teammate, was not considered an official complaint. It only becomes a 'complaint' if the referee writes it down. The referee said he heard nothing. A serious case fell into a grey zone. From my years standing on the touchline, I know racist abuse rarely arrives as a single shout. It is often sung in rhythm, hidden inside seemingly harmless chants, or muttered in small groups to avoid detection. In modern stadiums with tens of thousands of fans, a few dozen people can easily turn a racist chant into part of the 'atmosphere'. It is no surprise the referee did not hear it. What is surprising is that Uefa, with modern cameras and microphones across the stadium, chose to rely on the ears of a referee who may not understand Hebrew or Arabic, to decide whether to investigate. The rhythm of the feet on the pitch doesn't lie, if you stand long enough on the sideline. But if the person on the sideline does not understand the language of the stands, that rhythm means nothing. Based on my experience covering matches, racist incidents rarely happen through a single shouted word. They are usually a sequence of repetitive, rhythmic chants from a small but organised group. The Israel group at this match was described as 'small', meaning they could easily be separated from the rest of the crowd. Their seating position, the cameras pointing at them, the microphones placed near them - all could become evidence. The FAI story shows an uncomfortable truth: modern football spends enormous resources on VAR and goal-line technology, but very little on protecting players from verbal abuse. Hundreds of millions of euros are spent on video review, but there is no equivalent system for detecting hate speech. National associations like FAI are forced to pay out of their own pockets, collect broadcast footage, analyse pitchside audio, and reconstruct the scene like detectives. They have to prove what Uefa should have investigated from the start. Molumby deserves credit for reacting quickly. But a player on the pitch already has too much to do: tracking the ball, holding position, listening to the referee's orders. If players also have to monitor the crowd and listen for offensive chants, that is an unfair burden. Uefa should have an automatic protocol: whenever hateful words are detected, whether by spectators or on social media, the system should flag it. Instead, the current process depends on luck - luck that a player stood close enough to hear, was sensitive enough to recognise, and was brave enough to speak up. The role of the victim matters too. Adam Idah said he was unaware of any abuse during the match. Some may see that as obliviousness, but I see it as a warning sign. When someone has become so accustomed to hearing hateful words on the pitch, the natural reaction is to switch off. That means racist abuse has become part of their working environment. Three times I mispronounced Xhaka taught me to read people before writing, but what Idah goes through teaches even more: silence does not mean nothing happened. Many will argue Uefa did not investigate because there was no 'clear evidence'. But how can there be clear evidence if the organisation that owns advanced camera systems does not actively search for it? Uefa had access to the full match footage, all angles, all audio from broadcasters. They could easily have ordered a team of analysts to examine it, but they did not. Instead, they hid behind procedure. They said: the referee did not hear it, the player did not make a formal complaint, therefore the incident does not exist. This behaviour unintentionally encourages racists, because they know that if they sing quietly enough, or sing in a minority language, or pick a moment when no microphone is aimed at them, they will get away with it. One detail troubles me deeply. The return fixture between Ireland and Israel will take place in an empty stadium in Serbia. That is a security measure. But why must we wait until the stands are empty to be safe? If a player cannot be protected in a stadium full of cameras and security, the problem is not the fans, but the way the system responds to them. The stadium was empty, but hearts were full - that year I understood why I sit here. And when the stadium is empty out of fear, I understand that football is losing something fundamental: the ability to welcome everyone. So what can the FAI achieve? They are setting up a panel of experts, possibly including linguists, audio analysts, and former referees, to review the footage. If they find evidence, they will submit it to Uefa hoping to force the governing body to reopen the case. The bigger issue is whether Uefa will accept it. The European body is known for rigid procedures. Evidence collected after a match by a national association may not be enough to trigger disciplinary rules. However, if the FAI succeeds, it would set an important precedent: associations no longer have to stand by while Uefa avoids responsibility. They can protect their players themselves, and force Uefa to change its rules. This story might have faded away without the work of reporters. BBC Sport was first to report it, and the story spread quickly. For me, media is not just about reporting; it is part of the oversight process. When Uefa stays silent, journalists must speak. When the referee does not hear, writers must listen on their behalf. Football has long ceased to be a simple game. It is a mirror of society, where prejudice is carried from everyday life into the pitch. If football refuses to confront racism, it becomes a breeding ground for hatred. I have lived in many countries, witnessed many football cultures, and I have learned that wherever this issue is dismissed, football loses its purity. In the coming days, as the Republic of Ireland play three more matches in this international window, the team will try to focus on football. But I believe the story of what Molumby heard, what Idah did not hear, and how the FAI refused to let it go, will be remembered as a milestone. Will Uefa dare to face a chant from a sparse stand? Will it question its own procedures, or continue to hide behind the rulebook? Football has changed a lot to fight violence on the pitch. It is time for a similar revolution against verbal violence in the stands.