The Strange Decline of the Proper Sporting Rivalry
Sport still has opponents. What it has fewer of is enemies.
The proper rivalry used to feel personal. Manchester United against Arsenal meant Roy Keane glaring at Patrick Vieira in the Highbury tunnel. Liverpool against Chelsea meant José Mourinho, Rafa Benítez and a Champions League semi-final that felt less like football and more like a custody battle.
Boxing had Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier carrying genuine resentment into the ring. Formula One had Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost driving as though only one of them deserved to exist. Tennis had John McEnroe and Björn Borg: chaos against ice.
Now, rivalries are often treated like marketing campaigns.
Players hug before kick-off, swap shirts afterwards and post respectful messages before the highlights have finished. Everyone shares agents, sponsors, training camps and private WhatsApp groups. The modern athlete is part competitor, part global brand, and brands generally avoid blood feuds.
That makes commercial sense.
It also removes the electricity.
The exception is Celtic and Rangers.
The Old Firm still carries something most modern sporting contests have lost: history, identity, geography and genuine consequence. A defeat does not disappear after a polite Instagram post. It follows supporters into offices, pubs, family group chats and every Glasgow street where the wrong colour scarf can start an argument.
At Ibrox or Celtic Park, the match still feels bigger than the league table. The noise is hostile. The celebrations are vicious. The build-up lasts for days and the result can sour an entire city by lunchtime.
You do not need to admire every part of that rivalry to recognise its power.
Elsewhere, football has become too temporary. Managers rotate, players transfer between supposed enemies and billion-pound clubs spend more time protecting their international image than feeding local hatred. Manchester derbies matter, but Carlos Tevez crossing the city now feels like a relic from a nastier, more entertaining age.
Sport needs respect. It does not need friendship.
Great rivalries require contrast: Ali’s poetry against Frazier’s fury, Senna’s instinct against Prost’s calculation, Keane’s aggression against Vieira’s authority. Supporters need two sides that represent something different.
Without that, fixtures become content.
The talent remains. The stadiums are fuller. The production is slicker.
But outside Celtic and Rangers, too many rivalries now arrive pre-packaged, professionally managed and emotionally house-trained.
A proper rivalry should make people choose a side.
Modern sport keeps asking everyone to admire both.