“Jump if you’re not Muslim” could be heard last night at the RCDE Stadium, from one section of the ground, during the friendly between Spain and Egypt. It was a racist chant aimed at the Egyptian players and, once again, football carried on as if basic decency mattered less. There was a warning over the public-address system and on the stadium screens, but the match was not stopped, there was no real threat of suspension, and nobody took the situation beyond that minimal gesture. The game went on until the end, and everything suggests that those responsible for the chants will be able to return to a stadium without facing many consequences.

It does not take much nuance to understand how serious this was. It was a racist chant, repeated more than once, in a full stadium and during an international match. It also happened in Barcelona, the city where Lamine Yamal was born and raised, one of the biggest stars of the Spain national team and also a Muslim. We do not know whether those shouting it were aware of that or whether they simply did not care. But the detail only makes the absurdity clearer: part of the crowd turns football into an excuse to shout hatred, even when that hatred ends up touching players they are supposed to feel close to.

Lamine Yamal did not take part in the lap of honour with which the national team thanked the fans. And it is hard not to wonder whether the stadium deserved that gesture. Part of it did, because it would be unfair to treat an entire ground as one block. These episodes almost always come from specific sections, often linked to ultra groups or more extreme political environments. For some of them, football matters less than noise, provocation or whatever message they want to force into the moment. The ball is there, but sometimes only as a cover.

The problem is not only that it happens, but that it still is not stopped

The racist chanting was not the only thing heard in that part of the stadium. Egypt’s anthem was also booed and there were chants against Pedro Sánchez, the Spanish Prime Minister. It all belongs to the same picture: people going to football grounds to unload slogans, hatred or frustration, knowing full well that in most cases very little will happen. In Spain, measures have been introduced in recent years to block violent or radicalised groups from entering stadiums, and in some cases individual fans are identified, sanctioned and dealt with. But it is still not enough. What happened at Espanyol’s ground showed that once again.

Then come the familiar reactions. Strong headlines, like the one from AS, one of Spain’s main sports newspapers: “Global shame”, criticism from journalists and politicians, statements from the RFEF or from Espanyol itself, public condemnation and perhaps an investigation. But that sense of routine is also part of the problem. Everybody already knows how the sequence works: something serious happens, it is denounced, it is condemned, firmness is promised, and a few days later the focus moves elsewhere and football carries on as though nothing happened.

If warnings over the loudspeakers, stadium screens, fines and official statements are not enough, then it is time to admit that the response has to be stronger. Stopping a match, suspending it or sending the players back to the dressing room should not seem extreme when what is truly extreme is the normalisation of racist abuse in the stands. And football itself is left with an uncomfortable question: why is the match not stopped, or even called off? Why does the referee not do it? Why do the main actors on the pitch not take a stand as well? Last night, once again, the ball kept rolling as if nothing had happened, and football won out over basic decency. When that happens, the message is very clear: racism is seen as unpleasant, yes, but still not serious enough to stop the game.