I don’t want to downplay the absolute moral primacy of Premier League transfer window etiquette, which in many ways is what separates us from the animals. But in my book Saido Berahino’s backstory pretty much gives the West Brom striker a free pass to act histrionically for the rest of his days if he fancies it.

As you will doubtless be aware, his father was killed in the Burundian civil war, and the 10-year-old Berahino journeyed to England – alone – to be reunited with his mother and siblings who had already fled. But the authorities could not find them and he was put in a care home until a DNA test ruled that he was his mother’s son. Twelve years on, he’s only gone and undone all his good work by being a bit of a dick over a failed move to Tottenham.

And yet, as someone who struggles to feel offended by almost anything a footballer does, with a few exceptions, I find myself intensely relaxed about Berahino tweeting something drama-queeny about a 59-year-old multimillionaire club owner, intensely relaxed about him taking his mum along to transfer negotiations, and intensely relaxed about him posting a photo looking like he’s just won a competition to go on a private jet (which, in a roundabout way, he has). Berahino’s early life is unimaginable to all but a very few in this country, and to wish for higher standards of him because he was once a refugee is to add insult to presumably formative damage.

Alas, some fans and some in the media have got in a muddle and done exactly that. Criticising his private jet posturing is one thing – and fair enough, plenty of people dislike such flashery. But criticising his jet photo with reference to his refugee past is another entirely. He does not “owe” West Brom for saving him, and he certainly isn’t obliged to behave in a certain way during the current refugee crisis.

Saido Berahino confined to the ‘naughty chair’ at West Brom Read more

Far from being noble, the expectation implicit in the latter is a prejudice almost as iniquitous as those more blatant bigotries against which refugees struggle daily. Consciously or not, it demands from refugees a gratitude bordering on the servile – a performative type of remembering. It is, demonstrably, a denial of the right to be the same as everyone else.

Of course, wishful thinking about what we might like to see from sports stars is perfectly natural. Projection and inspiration are large parts of loving sport and no one can help dreaming about what they would adore to see, or what they think they’d do if they were out there. But it is vital to realise that we may wish all sorts of things of sportspeople that we have no right to expect. Back when he first won the Masters in 1997, for instance, I’d almost have expired with delight had Tiger Woods declined to let Nick Faldo help him into the green jacket at the ghastly, beautiful Augusta National Golf Club, and instead let rip with a speech about how he’d live without it, thanks very much, considering that he wouldn’t even have been allowed to be a member there eight years previously. But it was hard cheese for this mouthy and privileged white woman with a keyboard, and quite right too.

As I had to sternly remind myself then and many times subsequently, I am afraid Tiger Woods had an absolute right to be just another corporate twat in a sport heavily populated by corporate twats. For a long time he was easily the best twat, so I expect it was fitting that he was also the most corporate, what with the endless sponsor-chasing and the using of his dead dad’s voice in the cause of selling sneakers. That his sporting downfall was inextricably linked to his cocktail waitress habit was a particular tragedy, given all the vile and hypocritical country club stereotypes about feckless black men. The glee that a certain stripe of golf fan took in judging Woods as having somehow reverted to type served as a reminder of the myriad ingrained prejudices against which he had still played every day of his glory years.

As it goes, Berahino has a charitable foundation and last year made a video in which he shared his refugee story with the UNHCR. But like so many who can’t seem to do right for doing wrong, he now has some people basically wondering why he can’t be more like Muhammad Ali. Ali was perhaps sport’s greatest ever competitor, and certainly one of its greatest talkers, and his Mandela-like immensity has a habit of making even those who would have called him uppity at the time rewrite their history to style themselves as fans. But it is always worth remembering that most people absolutely didn’t want Ali to be like Ali at the time. Most people certainly didn’t want Tommie Smith and John Carlos to say their piece either, and made it extremely clear to them when they returned in disgrace after their black power salute at the 1968 Olympics by denying them work and dignity.

It is undeniably delicious when sports stars take a stand in precisely the way that you personally wish they would.

I completely loved that Serena Williams refused to go back to Indian Wells till this year, for instance – but I certainly wouldn’t have been judging her unfavourably had she decided on another tack. And so with Berahino. If he wants to behave like just another childish and materialistic 22-year-old footballer during the transfer window, then let him. Anyone who really gives a toss about refugees should be thrilled he has the chance to do so.