Bend It Like Beckham was a classic soccer movie – with one very worrying relationship | OneFootball

In the proposed upcoming sequel to the “feel good”, “uplifting” film Bend It Like Beckham (one of the Guardian’s best movies about football), a leading character has been banned from the game for life. At least that’s what could, and probably should be revealed, preferably as early as possible.

Seem dramatic? It isn’t. Though Bend It Like Beckham brilliantly tackles issues around racism, gender norms, homophobia, culture, immigration, and feminism with an endearing comedic twist, a core point of the plot rests on an adult coach pursuing a romantic relationship with a teenage player. In 2025, after multiple high-profile instances of inappropriate player/coach relationships have been reported in women’s soccer, and after the harm inherent in those relationships has been exposed, the normalization of one in a celebrated film is hard to ignore.

For those who came in late, Bend It Like Beckham tells the story of Jess (Parminder Nagra) and Jules (Keira Knightley), two London high schoolers who love soccer. Jules has talent, plays for a seemingly high-level local team (Hounslow Harriers), and dreams of playing college soccer in the United States.

Jess, too, loves soccer, has talent, and pins posters of David Beckham on her bedroom wall. Jess is from a middle class Punjabi family and must meet the added challenge of overcoming her family’s initial reluctance for her to pursue soccer with the Harriers and, eventually, a college career in the US.

Narrative conflict between Jess and Jules erupts when the girls realize they’re infatuated with the same man – their charming coach, played by Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who would be close to a decade older than the girls.

“Do you like him?” Jess asks Jules.

“Nah,” responds Jules. “He’d get sacked if he was caught shagging one of his players.”

So there is at least some awareness of the problem here. And yet …

Later in the film, the girls’ team travels to a tournament in Germany, where they are invited to a nightclub by their opponents. There appears to be little supervision of the young players by anyone except Joe, Rhys-Myers’ character. The coach seems in his element on the dancefloor after a few drinks, dancing with the players supposedly in his care. It’s obvious Joe desires Jess, even though the nightclub contains hundreds of potentially consenting adults for him to pursue for post-game shenanigans if that was his goal. But no. Jess is his target.

Outside the club, Joe and Jess are prevented from taking the relationship to another level – not by a sudden realization that the power dynamic is off the rails, but rather when they’re interrupted by Jules, who spots the pair and yells “You bitch!” at Jess.

“Nothing happened,” Jess later explains to her older sister.

“You make sure it doesn’t, alright?” her sister responds. The issue for Jess’s sister, though, is that the coach is white, rather than his age. Jess potentially being groomed by her coach isn’t discussed as a potential problem.

These are all straightforwardly problematic situations to today’s eyes. It’s jarring to see them essentially ignored. It’s possible the husband-and-wife writing team of Gurinder Chadha (who also directed) and Paul Mayeda Berges were simply being prescient about what was to be revealed about women’s soccer over the next two decades or so. Similar issues really were swept under the rug by a lot of people that should have known better. If the sequel is similarly faithful to its era of release, it’s going to be must-see (and not at all kind to Coach Joe).

In the original film, which was released in 2002, Jess and Jules are recruited to play for Santa Clara University in California. If we stick with the original timeline, and real life parallels, Santa Clara will be conference champions in 2003, 2004, and 2006 featuring those players developed and coached back in England. The team will make the NCAA final four in 2004. The London girls may encounter Aly Wagner, a 2002 Santa Clara graduate who would go on to play for the US women’s national team. They’d be teammates with Jordan Angeli, who went on for a pro career in the NWSL and is now a well-known commentator.

After they graduate, they may also eventually meet a talented Santa Clara recruit named Meleana “Mana” Shim who will later play in the NWSL – and speak out against her former coach Paul Riley for his alleged inappropriate behavior with players. Jess and Jules may eventually read the 2021 Yates Report that detailed Shim’s experience at Portland Thorns where Riley made “persistent and unwanted advances and his retaliation against her,” or an internal report from the Thorns that explained how the coach: “sent ‘inappropriate texts’,’ served alcohol to players, invited ‘a player to his hotel room,’ and danced ‘with a player and touch[ed] her while doing so,’ among other things.”

Maybe, now several years later in the timeline, the Hounslow Harriers players would see some parallels with their own experience. Perhaps they’ll report Joe’s behavior – including excessive punishment for Jess on the training ground, having made her run enough to aggravate an injury. Not that the club – or local football associations or confederations – would pay attention to the complaints. That is a story that could be pulled straight from real life headlines.

Believe it or not, I’m not trying to cancel Bend it Like Beckham, or its sequel. The original film should continue to be celebrated – for reasons it already has been, and also as an exquisite story-of-its-time example of how abuse in sport thrives in plain sight.

“It’s OK,” Joe tells Jess, who has just graduated from high school, as Bend It Like Beckham heads toward its conclusion. “I’m not your coach anymore. We can do what we want.”

You always could, Joe.

Header image: [Photograph: Bskyb/Allstar]