When news broke of Conor McGregor’s recent conviction for sexual assault, I felt compelled to write an article exploring how unchecked glorification of athletes perpetuates harm. Yet, before I’d even had a chance to publish my article, news broke that Conor McGregor was set to face off in an estimated $250 million fight with Logan Paul—a staggering sum that shows just how far talent and fame can go in shielding someone from the consequences of their actions.
It was as if the world had forgotten or simply didn’t care about the gravity of his sexual assault convinction, instead focussing on his athletic talent. McGregor’s value as a fighter was placed above his moral character, allowing him to avoid the scrutiny other individuals might face in similar situations.
This isn’t an isolated case. Time and time again, we see athletes escape the consequences of their actions because of their social status. Mason Greenwood, for instance, faced serious rape and assault allegations, with damning evidence publicly available. Yet, he has resumed his football career earning £52,000 a week. Jon Jones, hailed as one of the greatest UFC fighters, has a history of criminal offenses that includes domestic violence charges and a hit-and-run conviction, but his status as a legend remains intact. Even Mike Tyson, who was convicted of rape in the 1990s, has seen his legacy endure, with his recent fight against Jake Paul drawing millions of viewers. These aren’t coincidences — they are reflective of a systemic issue within sports culture that prioritises talent and revenue over accountability.
When athletes like McGregor and Tyson return to their respective sports without significant repercussions, it sends a clear message: talent can absolve even the gravest of sins. Fans, sports organisations, and media outlets, all of whom have a vested interest in maintaining the storyline surrounding these figures, are equally complicit in perpetuating this phenomenon.
For survivors, the harm extends beyond the assault itself. Women who come forward against high-profile athletes face an onslaught of public doubt, victim-blaming, and scrutiny, their trauma overshadowed by the accused’s reputation. The sheer public interest in these cases often skews the narrative, shifting focus from the survivor’s experience to the athlete’s career, as if talent entitles them to leniency. Athletes are elevated to near-untouchable status, their actions excused or ignored in service of the spectacle they provide.
For society at large, the consequences are far-reaching. When public figures escape accountability, it reinforces a culture where survivors are silenced, justice is undermined, and fame eclipses morality. Women in particular are left with the message that their voices hold less weight than the achievements of their abusers. Fans, too, bear responsibility in this dynamic. By continuing to support and celebrate these athletes, they perpetuate the notion that greatness on the field is enough to overshadow failures off it. The adulation bestowed on McGregor, Tyson, and others creates an illusion that their achievements render them untouchable, distorting the line between professional success and personal accountability.
This is where we, as a society, must shift our thinking. If we continue to glorify athletes like McGregor and Greenwood while ignoring their past misdeeds, we become complicit in maintaining a broken system. It’s time for organisations, sponsors, and media outlets to stop prioritising profit over moral integrity. It’s time for fans to understand that athletes are human beings, not untouchable idols, and they must be held accountable just like anyone else. By demanding justice and accountability, we can begin to break the cycle of abuse and prevent future generations from idolising those who do harm.
