Jens Berthel Askou was only trying to express himself but he got on the wrong side of SFA.This is a law that has never been used in Scottish league before
Jens Berthel Askou was only trying to express himself, but in doing so he found himself on the wrong side of the Scottish Football Association, caught up in a disciplinary process centred on a law that has never before been enforced in the Scottish league. The situation has sparked debate across Scottish football, not only about Askou’s comments but also about freedom of expression, consistency in governance, and the timing of the SFA’s intervention.
Askou, known for his thoughtful and often candid approach, was speaking from a place of frustration rather than malice. His comments were not personal attacks, nor were they designed to undermine the integrity of the game. Instead, they reflected a manager attempting to articulate concerns that many within football quietly share but rarely voice in public. That is what makes the SFA’s response feel so jarring to many observers. When a previously unused regulation is suddenly brought to the forefront, questions inevitably follow.
The law in question has existed within the SFA’s rulebook for years, buried among a long list of disciplinary provisions. Until now, it had never been tested in practice at Scottish league level. That fact alone has raised eyebrows. Football authorities often argue that the presence of a rule is justification enough for its enforcement, regardless of whether it has been used before. Critics, however, counter that selective or sudden enforcement risks appearing arbitrary, particularly when similar or stronger comments in the past have gone unpunished.
What makes Askou’s case even more complex is the context in which his remarks were made. Scottish football has spent recent seasons encouraging openness, transparency, and honest dialogue from managers and players. Initiatives around mental health, leadership, and authenticity have been widely promoted. Against that backdrop, punishing a manager for expressing himself, without clear precedent, feels contradictory. It sends a message that honesty is acceptable only up to an invisible line, one that can shift without warning.
Supporters and pundits alike have pointed out that the Scottish game has seen far more inflammatory statements over the years. Touchline rants, post-match tirades, and thinly veiled accusations aimed at officials or governing bodies have often resulted in little more than mild warnings or small fines. The sudden application of an unused law to Askou has therefore been interpreted by some as heavy-handed, if not opportunistic.
From the SFA’s perspective, the argument is about protecting respect and authority within the game. Governing bodies frequently stress the importance of maintaining standards and ensuring that comments made in public do not damage the sport’s reputation. They would argue that failing to act, simply because a law has not been used before, would set a dangerous precedent of its own. In their view, enforcement is not about silencing individuals but about upholding rules that apply to everyone equally.
Yet equality in enforcement is precisely what many feel is missing here. When a rule lies dormant for years and is suddenly activated, it inevitably creates suspicion. Managers are left wondering which regulations are actively policed and which exist only on paper. That uncertainty can lead to self-censorship, where honest discussion is replaced by carefully rehearsed soundbites, ultimately doing little to improve the game.
Askou himself has not adopted a defiant tone in response. By all accounts, he remains respectful of the process, even if he disagrees with the outcome. That measured reaction has only strengthened the view among his supporters that this is not a case of a reckless manager courting controversy, but of a thoughtful figure caught out by an unexpected interpretation of the rules.
In the wider picture, this incident could become a turning point. It may prompt the SFA to clarify which laws are actively enforced and how managers can express criticism without risking sanction. Alternatively, it could reinforce a culture where saying less is the safest option. Neither outcome would be particularly healthy for a sport that thrives on passion, debate, and personality.
Ultimately, Jens Berthel Askou was not trying to provoke a disciplinary storm. He was trying to speak honestly, to express himself in a game that often claims to value authenticity. That he has instead become the first test case for a previously unused law says more about the grey areas in Scottish football’s governance than it does about his intentions. Whether the SFA learns from the reaction or doubles down on its stance will shape how freely voices within the game can be heard in the future.
