Fury Erupts as Aluko Calls Out Men’s Dominance in Women’s Finals

Paul Riverbank, 2/8/2026Eni Aluko reignites debate over gender parity in women’s football punditry, questioning why key broadcast roles often go to men, while experienced female players are sidelined—even in women’s finals. Her pointed critique exposes ongoing divides in sports media representation.

Eni Aluko, who spent years in the thick of top-flight football and now pivots between analysis and advocacy, poured fuel on the conversation during a recent appearance on the 90s Baby Show podcast. For many listeners, her words didn’t just hang in the air—they cut straight to ongoing frustrations. Aluko recounted the last Women’s Euro final, where, out of the six main pundit roles available across two big UK channels, a third went to men. Not a mammoth proportion—perhaps. But for her, and many others, it’s about more than numbers.

“In the women’s game the opportunities are even more limited, so the main characters of the show should be the women,” Aluko said, her voice measured but unflinching. She clarified that this isn’t about shutting the door on men; rather, it’s a plea for balance to mirror the historic experience on the men’s side—where women, when included, often find themselves on the periphery. “You’re never going to get the premium final games,” she added, narrowing her focus to that pivotal moment when the eyes of the world are watching.

There’s a sting in that.

Aluko’s observations drew on personal history. In over a decade in football broadcasting—covering three World Cups, Champions League nights, tense Euros evenings—she’s rarely, if ever, been asked to helm the marquee men’s fixtures. And, with almost resigned candor, she admitted that this hierarchy maybe isn’t unjustified: the “main guys” lead; the rest, no matter their expertise or experience, support. “Maybe rightly so,” she reflected, almost as if bracing herself against accusations of special pleading.

But what brought these reflections sharply into focus was what happened on the night of the Lionesses’ showpiece final. Aluko found herself, along with Fara Williams—England’s all-time top-capped player—perched in the stands, not seated under the studio lights. “Fara Williams has 170 caps, something ridiculous... she’s sat in the stands,” Aluko recalled, her exasperation palpable. By her count, almost 300 caps' worth of top-level football experience were out of view, while two men took prime spots in the punditry line-ups.

Flicking channels supplied no solace. On the BBC panel for the final: Ellen White, Steph Houghton, and Nedum Onuoha. ITV, meanwhile, had Ian Wright, Emma Hayes, and Karen Carney in the spotlight. Aluko’s not out to slight anyone—she singles out Onuoha, admits she doesn’t even know his full international record—but the underlying question keeps echoing: why, when it’s the women’s game, do broadcasters still default to familiar male voices for the moments that matter most?

Of course, Aluko has some history with certain figures she’s critiqued. Last year, she landed in hot water after saying on BBC Woman’s Hour that Arsenal legend Ian Wright was “blocking opportunities” for women in media. Apologies came, but wounds clearly linger. Wright himself expressed dismay—given the support he’d offered Aluko behind the scenes.

This most recent volley didn’t go unnoticed in the sometimes-chaotic agora of social media. Laura Woods, an ITV presenter who’s worked with both Aluko and Wright, responded succinctly to a widely shared video clip—just a single “Wow...” When pressed to stand up for Aluko more robustly, Woods’ response was equally economical: “Nope.” If you were after fence-sitting, you weren’t going to find it there.

On a different end of the spectrum, Piers Morgan—never shy of lobbing in a grenade where debate is brewing—dismissed Aluko’s argument out of hand. “Insufferable,” he branded her on X, before moving on to heap more praise on Ian Wright’s talent—both off and on the field—than most could claim in a broadcasting lifetime.

And yet, underneath the stings and soundbites, there’s a deeper issue that refuses to dissipate. Aluko insists her critique isn’t personal, but structural: a question about whose stories get told, and by whom, especially at the apex of public interest. It’s difficult not to notice that the reverse—a male final in men’s football putting forward an all-female expert line-up—remains a vanishing rarity.

Industry insiders often point to the growing ranks of women on screen as a sign of slow but encouraging progress. There’s certainly a buzz these days when you look across the press gantry at a packed ground—more female faces, more diverse perspectives than there were a decade ago. Still, the sense lingers that something isn’t quite right if ex-players with hundreds of caps remain in the shadows while men, however qualified or charismatic, step into the most coveted roles as a matter of course.

Aluko’s remarks were, as ever, shaped by experience, and delivered with more nuance than the social media echo chamber can accommodate. “I’m not saying anybody should be excluded,” she insisted. “I believe in diversity wholeheartedly.” And here’s where the complexity lies: For all the sloganeering about parity, those tasked with telling the stories of women’s football at its zenith ought, perhaps, to have lived those stories too.

So, what does genuine equality look like in this space? And how far off are we from panels that not only look like the players on the pitch but can speak with the authority of having been there? That’s a question many fans—and those left wandering the concourse rather than the camera’s gaze—are still waiting to see answered.

It’s no secret that debates about who gets a seat on the punditry sofa during big matches can stir up as much heat as the action on the pitch itself. But in the latest flare-up around gender representation in football broadcasting, the arguments feel particularly raw—and unusually public.Eni Aluko, who spent years in the thick of top-flight football and now pivots between analysis and advocacy, poured fuel on the conversation during a recent appearance on the 90s Baby Show podcast. For many listeners, her words didn’t just hang in the air—they cut straight to ongoing frustrations. Aluko recounted the last Women’s Euro final, where, out of the six main pundit roles available across two big UK channels, a third went to men. Not a mammoth proportion—perhaps. But for her, and many others, it’s about more than numbers.“In the women’s game the opportunities are even more limited, so the main characters of the show should be the women,” Aluko said, her voice measured but unflinching. She clarified that this isn’t about shutting the door on men; rather, it’s a plea for balance to mirror the historic experience on the men’s side—where women, when included, often find themselves on the periphery. “You’re never going to get the premium final games,” she added, narrowing her focus to that pivotal moment when the eyes of the world are watching.There’s a sting in that.Aluko’s observations drew on personal history. In over a decade in football broadcasting—covering three World Cups, Champions League nights, tense Euros evenings—she’s rarely, if ever, been asked to helm the marquee men’s fixtures. And, with almost resigned candor, she admitted that this hierarchy maybe isn’t unjustified: the “main guys” lead; the rest, no matter their expertise or experience, support. “Maybe rightly so,” she reflected, almost as if bracing herself against accusations of special pleading.But what brought these reflections sharply into focus was what happened on the night of the Lionesses’ showpiece final. Aluko found herself, along with Fara Williams—England’s all-time top-capped player—perched in the stands, not seated under the studio lights. “Fara Williams has 170 caps, something ridiculous... she’s sat in the stands,” Aluko recalled, her exasperation palpable. By her count, almost 300 caps' worth of top-level football experience were out of view, while two men took prime spots in the punditry line-ups.Flicking channels supplied no solace. On the BBC panel for the final: Ellen White, Steph Houghton, and Nedum Onuoha. ITV, meanwhile, had Ian Wright, Emma Hayes, and Karen Carney in the spotlight. Aluko’s not out to slight anyone—she singles out Onuoha, admits she doesn’t even know his full international record—but the underlying question keeps echoing: why, when it’s the women’s game, do broadcasters still default to familiar male voices for the moments that matter most?Of course, Aluko has some history with certain figures she’s critiqued. Last year, she landed in hot water after saying on BBC Woman’s Hour that Arsenal legend Ian Wright was “blocking opportunities” for women in media. Apologies came, but wounds clearly linger. Wright himself expressed dismay—given the support he’d offered Aluko behind the scenes.This most recent volley didn’t go unnoticed in the sometimes-chaotic agora of social media. Laura Woods, an ITV presenter who’s worked with both Aluko and Wright, responded succinctly to a widely shared video clip—just a single “Wow...” When pressed to stand up for Aluko more robustly, Woods’ response was equally economical: “Nope.” If you were after fence-sitting, you weren’t going to find it there.On a different end of the spectrum, Piers Morgan—never shy of lobbing in a grenade where debate is brewing—dismissed Aluko’s argument out of hand. “Insufferable,” he branded her on X, before moving on to heap more praise on Ian Wright’s talent—both off and on the field—than most could claim in a broadcasting lifetime.And yet, underneath the stings and soundbites, there’s a deeper issue that refuses to dissipate. Aluko insists her critique isn’t personal, but structural: a question about whose stories get told, and by whom, especially at the apex of public interest. It’s difficult not to notice that the reverse—a male final in men’s football putting forward an all-female expert line-up—remains a vanishing rarity.Industry insiders often point to the growing ranks of women on screen as a sign of slow but encouraging progress. There’s certainly a buzz these days when you look across the press gantry at a packed ground—more female faces, more diverse perspectives than there were a decade ago. Still, the sense lingers that something isn’t quite right if ex-players with hundreds of caps remain in the shadows while men, however qualified or charismatic, step into the most coveted roles as a matter of course.Aluko’s remarks were, as ever, shaped by experience, and delivered with more nuance than the social media echo chamber can accommodate. “I’m not saying anybody should be excluded,” she insisted. “I believe in diversity wholeheartedly.” And here’s where the complexity lies: For all the sloganeering about parity, those tasked with telling the stories of women’s football at its zenith ought, perhaps, to have lived those stories too.So, what does genuine equality look like in this space? And how far off are we from panels that not only look like the players on the pitch but can speak with the authority of having been there? That’s a question many fans—and those left wandering the concourse rather than the camera’s gaze—are still waiting to see answered.