Five Canadian ice hockey players were recently declared not guilty by the courts, yet remain sidelined from their leagues as the case reopens a long-standing debate: what happens when legal and sporting justice no longer align? A deep dive into power, rights and the limits of institutional autonomy.

The image is powerful: five men leaving a courthouse, surrounded by flashes and microphones, acquitted, but not entirely free. Their lives have not returned, and will not return, to what they once were, despite the innocence granted by their country’s judicial system after a long, highly-covered and exhausting legal process.

The scene took place last week in Ontario, Canada, where Judge Maria Carroccia found the former members of the national junior team not guilty of sexual assault. The verdict was clear: there was insufficient evidence to convict them under Canadian criminal law. However, that decision was not enough to restore their sporting status. The National Hockey League, just as Hockey Canada had done previously, opted to uphold the provisional suspension, even after the not guilty ruling.

This reasoning is nothing new in professional sport: a behaviour might not constitute a criminal offence but could still breach internal disciplinary regulations. Criminal law demands certainty for a conviction; sporting justice operates on a different logic, where it is enough to demonstrate misconduct without having to prove guilt to the same standard.

In this case, the NHL cited ethical grounds and institutional reputation to justify its stance, despite the court's ruling. This approach exposes once more the occasional dissent between the legal sovereignty of nation states and the regulatory autonomy of organised sport, both nationally and internationally.

Dubé leaves the Canadian courthouse after acquittal. GETTY IMAGES
Dubé leaves the Canadian courthouse after acquittal. GETTY IMAGES

While the former is bound by constitutional principles like the presumption of innocence or the in dubio pro reo principle, sports federations apply their own regulations, contractual clauses and codes of conduct. These are often applied under broader criteria and with fewer procedural safeguards.

This is not necessarily a contradiction. Sporting bodies have the right to uphold their values, protect their image and answer to sponsors. But when they continue to sanction individuals who have been exonerated by ordinary courts, the matter takes on another dimension. To what extent can that power be exercised without infringing on fundamental rights?

This is where potential civil liability comes into play. In jurisdictions like Canada, and in many others governed by civil law or common law traditions, athletes may consider legal action for moral damages, loss of earnings, direct harm or loss of opportunity. Internal regulations are not being questioned per se, but rather the legality of their application once the judiciary has intervened. Rules cannot be used as an excuse to cause harm without consequence.

Despite the acquittal, Michael McLeod, Alex Formenton, Dillon Dubé, Carter Hart and Cal Foote remain suspended. The league argued that, regardless of the criminal outcome, the behaviour in question remained 'unacceptable'. The National Hockey League Players' Association strongly opposed the decision, claiming it violated the current collective bargaining agreement.

Alex Formenton entering the Ontario Superior Court. GETTY IMAGES
Alex Formenton entering the Ontario Superior Court. GETTY IMAGES

This type of conflict is not exclusive to ice hockey. Clashes between public law (criminal, civil or administrative) and sports law, at all levels and in all jurisdictions, are persistent. High-performance sport operates with its own legal frameworks, quasi-judicial structures and disciplinary committees which, although autonomous, often lack the legal training or procedural rigour of state courts. Those who judge are not always judges, and those who sanction do not always rely on solid evidence.

Legally speaking, an athlete can breach a federation's regulation, whether from the NHL, FIFA, the International Olympic Committee or any other body, without committing a criminal offence. Conversely, they can engage in criminally reprehensible conduct without facing disciplinary action from their federation. There are also cases where a final conviction exists, yet internal rules fail to contemplate a specific response. There is no obligation for both systems, the state judiciary and associative sporting bodies, to be symmetrical.

The difference in standards is the core issue. Criminal law requires proof beyond reasonable doubt, as recognised not only by Canada's Constitution but by most democratic legal systems. In contrast, sport tends to act on plausibility, institutional perception or mere reputational judgement. Decisions are often made by individuals with no legal background, unfamiliar with the procedural guarantees required in an ordinary court.

Cal Foote seen entering the court ahead of the hearing. GETTY IMAGES
Cal Foote seen entering the court ahead of the hearing. GETTY IMAGES

This raises important questions: can a federation uphold a sanction when the courts have acquitted the accused? Where does sporting autonomy end and institutional arbitrariness begin? And what happens to the athlete's rights when the body imposing the sanction is not subject to judicial oversight?

In many countries, the answer lies in civil action. If a sanction is maintained without sufficient factual support—even after a judicial acquittal—the athlete may seek compensation for the harm suffered: reputation, income, career prospects. The fact that a behaviour was not criminal does not prevent institutional censure, but that does not exempt it from legal consequences. Any sanction causing unjustified harm can be subject to judicial review.

Furthermore, if it can be shown that an institution acted with abuse of power or without sufficient evidence, even ordinary courts could intervene. No matter how autonomous, disciplinary power is not above the law.

The Canadian case is not unique. We have seen athletes suspended for doping without criminal conviction; coaches sanctioned for "loss of confidence" without due process; clubs excluded from competitions for contractual reasons that never reached a civil court. The history of sport is filled with poorly resolved frictions between these two worlds that coexist, but do not always understand each other.

Carter Hart exits the Ontario Superior Court after the verdict. GETTY IMAGES.
Carter Hart exits the Ontario Superior Court after the verdict. GETTY IMAGES.

A country's law is an expression of its sovereignty. Neither the NHL, nor FIFA, nor the IOC, nor any other sporting association, no matter their political or economic clout, stands above it. Even if they sometimes behave as though they do, as in cases where federations or athletes are sanctioned merely for going to ordinary courts, accused of breaching 'sporting autonomy', a valuable concept bordering on institutional impunity.

When that autonomy ceases to be a tool for self-regulation and becomes a shield to impose unchecked sanctions, the danger is not just legal, but becomes ethical, institutional and democratic.

The creation of a comprehensive universal disciplinary code, establishing minimum standards of procedure, guarantees and proportionality for all sporting bodies worldwide, would undoubtedly represent structural progress. A common framework to guide ethical and disciplinary disputes, ensuring shared legal principles regardless of sport, country or competitive level. Yet for now, that remains a utopia.

Michael McLeod (L) walks into Ontario's court before the proceedings. GETTY IMAGES
Michael McLeod (L) walks into Ontario's court before the proceedings. GETTY IMAGES

To bring it to life, each federation, especially the more powerful, would need to relinquish part of its internal rule-making authority. In practical terms, that means ceding autonomy, giving up degrees of control and accepting external oversight. An unlikely gesture, though it could provide global sport with the legal coherence and institutional legitimacy it seems to urgently need, hopefully benefiting athletes, society and the very structures it aims to protect.

As sport balances its need for values and clear rules, the demand for solid, credible  institutions that accept limits remains. In the absence of all that, the show may go on… without noticing who's been left on the sidelines.