There are plenty of places to start with the Lance Collard case, and that’s part of the problem.

When a story raises more questions than answers, it usually means something hasn’t quite landed the way it should.

For those catching up, Collard is a young St Kilda footballer who was sanctioned after using a homophobic slur on the field in a VFL match. That part is clear.

What’s become the real talking point is what happened next, his seven-week ban being slashed to two weeks on appeal, and more importantly, the reasoning behind it. And that’s where things start to feel off.

The Appeals Board referenced the idea that this kind of language has been “commonplace” in footy environments. Whether that’s historically true almost misses the point.

Saying something has been common doesn’t make it acceptable. If anything, it highlights how long the game has taken to properly deal with it.

It’s not a strong defence. It’s a reminder of past standards, not a justification for current behaviour.

Because the reality today is very different. The AFL has spent years building education programs around respect, inclusion, and language. Players sit through it. Clubs reinforce it.

Fans see it every single game. It’s on the big screens, it’s in campaigns, it’s in the way the league positions itself publicly.

We’ve seen spectators removed, fined, and banned for using the same kind of language directed at players. It’s been made very clear, this is where the line sits.

So when a player crosses that line, and then has a penalty reduced with reasoning that leans on how things used to be, it’s fair to ask: what message does that actually send?

Because this isn’t just about Collard. It’s about consistency.

Footy has always had emotion and that’s part of what makes it great. The push and shove, the words exchanged, the frustration spilling over, no one’s trying to take that out of the game.

I personally didn’t much care for someone calling me names of all sorts, and I’ve heard them all, because to me I just didn’t care and didn’t let it bother me. Yes, the constant barrage gets to you as it’s relentless, especially on the cricket field, but it’s part of the environment you deal with.

But there’s always been a line. You can feel it when you’re out there in any sport. Certain things are said, certain things aren’t. And this is one of them that crosses the line.

In this day and age, around social awareness and sport trying to educate players and fans, that is the right step and it needs to be upheld by the AFL, players and fans.

People will say they’re just words, and we shouldn’t let words have an impact, but in a team environment, on a public stage, words carry meaning whether you intend them to or not.

The AFL has made a clear stance on racism, sexism, and homophobic language. That’s not new. It’s not hidden. It’s not something players can claim they weren’t aware of.

Which is why the idea that this behaviour is somehow understandable, or part of the environment, doesn’t hold up anymore.

Collard is a young player, and that matters. Young players make mistakes. But this also isn’t his first slip. That context matters too. When you’re talking about repeat behaviour, the response must shift from education to accountability.

That’s where the reduced penalty becomes difficult to sit with. Because punishment in these situations isn’t just about the individual. It’s about the standard you’re setting for everyone else. It’s about deterrence. It’s about making it clear, without any grey area, that this is not part of the game anymore.

If the consequence softens, so does the message. And then you start to create a gap between what’s said publicly and what’s enforced privately.

That’s where fans come into it as well. Supporters have been held to this standard. They’ve been removed from the grounds, banned from attending games, and publicly called out for using this kind of language. Rightly so.

But they’ll look at this situation and ask a simple question: how does that line apply differently to players?

It’s a fair question. If players are meant to be role models, if clubs and the league talk about leading by example, then moments like this are where that standard has to be visible.

That doesn’t mean ending a career over it. It doesn’t mean there’s no room for growth. But it does mean the consequence has to match the expectation. Otherwise, you risk undoing the very progress the game has worked hard to build.

There’s no doubt Collard will learn from this. That’s part of the process. But learning doesn’t replace accountability; it should sit alongside it. And right now, that balance feels slightly off.

Footy doesn’t need to lose its edge. It doesn’t need to become robotic or overly controlled. But it does need to be clear on where the boundaries are.

Because once those boundaries start shifting, even slightly, it doesn’t take long before people start testing how far they can go again.

That’s a road the game has already been down before, and it knows how that ends.