After a powerful earthquake killed more than 8,000 people in the Himalayan country of Nepal, many of its natives living in other countries were desperate to return home. The 400,000 Nepalese workers in Qatar, however, were banned from leaving the country.

Now, Nepal's labour minister is slamming both Qatar and FIFA for not allowing those workers to leave in a time of crisis. Many of those workers are currently involved in the construction of soccer stadiums for the 2022 FIFA World Cup.

"After the earthquake of 25 April, we requested all companies in Qatar to give their Nepalese workers special leave and pay for their air fare home," labour minister Tek Bahadur Gurung told The Guardian. "While workers in some sectors of the economy have been given this, those on World Cup construction sites are not being allowed to leave because of the pressure to complete projects on time."

Qatar's working class functions in an oppressive system known as "kafala," in which workers are essentially the property of their employers. When migrant workers take a job, they must hand over their passport to their employer, which then controls whether the workers leave the country or not.

Ninety percent of Qatar's population is comprised of migrant workers, which has been decried as modern-day slavery by numerous humanitarian organizations around the world.

FIFA has come under fire for awarding a World Cup to a country whose riches are built on the backs of slaves. Despite the harsh criticism, the organization has made no effort to pressure Qatar into reform -- the kafala system remains unaffected.

Gurung laments that his complaints will likely fall on deaf ears because his country is not a world power.

"Nothing will change for migrant workers until FIFA and its rich sponsors insist on it," he said. "We are a small, poor country and these powerful organizations are not interested in listening to us."

Here is HBO's Real Sports reporting on the slave labor system in Qatar:

The drama surrounding FIFA president Sepp Blatter and his dismissive attitudes toward women's soccer is starting to reach comedic heights.

After suggesting the women wear shorter shorts to build intrigue among fans -- and, more recently, calling himself the "godfather" of women's soccer around the world, despite doing almost nothing but hold it back from further growth -- U.S. star Alex Morgan reveals that Blatter doesn't even know who she is.

That's significant because Morgan is a former FIFA Women's Player of the Year. She's made several appearances alongside Blatter.

None of them were enough, apparently, to stick in his memory.

In an interview with TIME Magazine, she recalls the most notable instance:

"I have experienced sexism multiple times, and I'm sure I will a lot more," she told the magazine. "I feel like I'm fighting for female athletes. At the FIFA World Player of the Year event [in 2012], FIFA executives and FIFA president Sepp Blatter didn't know who I was.

"And I was being honored as top three in the world. That was pretty shocking."

Morgan has been among the professionals who actively campaigned for the 2015 Women's World Cup to be played on natural grass, which is safer for athletes but more costly to install and maintain.

Her requests fell on deaf ears -- FIFA has insisted that artificial turf be used.

Maybe if she'd said it wearing short shorts, Blatter would have heard her.

Floyd Mayweather hasn't been so popular since he won his fight against Manny Pacquiao. Many people who spent money on the fight were upset that the 12-round contest lacked fireworks or any truly compelling moments. For a sporting event that generated hundreds of millions of dollars -- around $400 million in pay-per-view spending alone -- Mayweather turned in a dud.

There's also his criminal history that has been revisited in recent weeks, particularly after he banned at least two female reporters from entering the fight on the grounds that they had criticized him as a convict of domestic violence.

So when Mayweather turned up at a Golden State Warriors playoff game Wednesday night, he didn't exactly get a hero's welcome:

Many people observed that the boos rained down on Mayweather were even louder than the treatment given to the opposing Memphis Grizzlies. One local sports columnist firmly believed that the booing was in response to Mayweather's track record for beating women.

But Mayweather is used to being treated that way and taking flak for his past behavior. His most common response has been to ignore the criticisms and hope they go away. That was his same strategy at Oracle Arena.

The noise stemming from Mayweather's domestic violence history just seems to grow louder the more he tries to avoid it. So far, though, he's content to count his millions and smile.

In an effort to break the Guinness World Record for the largest marathon ever, officials in Doha, Qatar, bused in thousands of immigrant slaves working in the country and forced them to run in whatever clothes they had -- including even if they were shoeless.

Many workers wound up running in jeans and flip-flops, Doha News reported. Those who tried to leave were forced to stay in the marathon and cross the line, which was required for their participation to count. The marathon was started at 2 p.m., when the temperature was 84 degrees.

The logic behind the event, which was a half-marathon, was amazingly ignorant: The race's official website branded the marathon as a protest against global negative opinions toward Qatar, including a "decisive response to the campaign waged by the sector of envious haters on the success of Qatar to host the 2022 FIFA World Cup, and to their false allegations of persecution of workers and residents in our beloved country."

Somehow, forcing slaves to run 13.1 miles in the heat doesn't seem to be the appropriate response to those allegations. Meanwhile, Qatar has been slammed by Amnesty International for its "severe" exploitation of slaves in Qatar. The country operates a system of slavery that turns employees into property owned by their employers.

Employers often hold the passports of those individuals, which prevents them from escaping the country.

These immigrant workers comprise 90 percent of Qatar's population, and this labor force is being used to build the soccer stadiums in the country ahead of the 2022 World Cup. The country's widespread use of de facto slavery has been a point of criticism against FIFA, which awarded the World Cup to that country despite its poor record of human rights violations.

Despite the global outcry, FIFA hasn't deviated from its plans, and Qatar has made no effort to reform its practices. In fact, this marathon stunt suggests it is as emboldened as ever to maintain its ugly status quo.

As it turned out, it didn't come close to the marathon-participation record. It would've needed more than 50,000 runners. A race representative told Doha News that there were about 33,000, but others pegged the total to be much lower.

Even for runners who had been preparing for the event found it to be disorganized. Doha News cited a runner's complaint posted to the race's Facebook page: "too exhausted and too tired but despite of the obstacles i tried to finish the race only to discover that there was nobody on the officials table, no organizer, no medals for finisher, and to think that there were timing devices on our numbers..what are we supposed to one explain it to us…very disappointing…"

Just eight years removed from captaining Italy to World Cup soccer gold, Fabio Cannavaro has landed in jail. And it's for a rather odd reason.

He went swimming in his own pool.

Relax: It's not quite as insane as it sounds. Cannavaro's 10-month sentence has more to do with violating direct orders to stay off of a property he had built in Naples, Italy.

The property was closed off after local prosecutors found out that Cannavaro had built parts of the construction without properly applying for planning permission before adding the features.

Consequently, the grounds were seized by authorities. That made Cannavaro's crime something akin to trespassing. His wife and brother were also sentenced to their own jail terms.

Cannavaro has been in trouble with law enforcement in the past, too. CNN reports that he was under investigation in 2014 for tax evasion, although nothing formal has been brought forward as of yet.

Cannavaro filed an appeal against the sentence, which has temporarily postponed his punishment. He might be able to avoid jail by winning the appeal, although his track record doesn't bode well for living a clean life after this point.

Currently, Cannavaro is a coach for a professional soccer team in China. It isn't immediately clear if the team will levy any punishment or public statement regarding the coach's legal troubles.

But for a former World Player of the Year, it's not quite the post-playing life he probably imagined.

Matt Sandusky is known for two things. First and foremost, he is the son of Jerry Sandusky -- more specifically, he is the adopted son of Jerry Sandusky and one of the former football coach's dozens of sexual abuse victims.

Matt is also an enduring reminder of the scandal that rocked Happy Valley, Pennsylvania. His voice has been prominent in the public as well, which was eager to pass its own judgments on Jerry Sandusky, former Penn State coach Joe Paterno, and the university as an institution.

For that, Matt Sandusky has suffered. As he explains to Jeff Pearlman in a feature published by Bleacher Report, Matt Sandusky changed his last name several years ago -- and not just to disassociate himself with Jerry Sandusky, whom he now refers to only as "my perpetrator." Matt explains that his kids were being ridiculed by classmates over their connection to the scandal.

"The bullying was very bad," Matt's wife, Kim, tells Pearlman. "So as a family we decided to start new and let the kids avoid being stigmatized."

The fallout is still fresh for Matt after years of keeping his abuse quiet. He first met Jerry Sandusky as a troubled young boy through The Second Mile Foundation, the nonprofit through which Sandusky met -- and violated -- many other victims.

Matt continued to get into trouble with the police. One day, he faced an ultimatum: Either he'd be stuck in the system, or he would have to go live with his perpetrator, who had offered to take him under his wing.

He chose the latter option, and became a part of the family, even though the abuse continued. His loyalty was strong through thick and thin, even when the accusations against Sandusky started to crop up.

"They were my family," Matt says now. "I understand how that looks to people, but this stuff isn't simple."

Initially, Matt was receptive to the coaching from Sandusky's legal team in preparation to be used as a character witness. During that process, he broke down. He told Jerry Sandusky that he remembered being abused. Then he told his wife, who had already suspected that her father-in-law was guilty of abusing the other victims who had come forward.

Matt ultimately went and spoke to police, giving his account of his abuse, and released a statement during the trial coming out to the public and explaining his actions.

According to Bleacher Report, detectives asked Matt why he chose that particular moment.

"I mean, for my family, so that they can really have closure and see what the truth actually is," he said. "And just to right the wrong, honestly, of going to the grand jury and lying."

Not everyone believes him, though. Within the Penn State community, there are outspoken critics of Matt who refuse to believe his account of abuse. They suspect alterior motives -- he was one of the victims to receive a payout settlement from Penn State -- and believe he contributed to a media frenzy that perpetuated false narratives about certain aspects of the case, particularly as they related to Joe Paterno.

Even Matt's adopted mother and his adopted brother -- who continues to be supportive and loving toward his Matt -- have discredited him in television interviews.

Matt admits to some frustration and anger with those who don't believe him, but he also operates with the understanding that those attitudes are out of his control. He continues to focus on things he has power over, which include his non-profit work.

When he's at his non-profit, by the way, he goes by Matt Sandusky. He may have changed his name, but that identity has stuck with him. Fortunately, he's found a way to use it for good.

"Like it or not, people identify the name with everything that happened," he says. "And that's important to the cause."

Read the full story at Bleacher Report.

After beating Duke on the road to finish the regular season, North Carolina's football team got a little carried away with the celebration. The players took cans of spray paint -- Tar Heel blue, if you were wondering -- and defaced the visitor's locker room, the practice field turf and the Victory Bell on the Duke campus.

Shortly thereafter, Duke submitted a bill to UNC, and the price was steep: $27,170.44 for repairs.

And not a penny less.

According to The News-Observer, which broke the story, most of the costs -- slightly over $22,000 -- went to re-carpeting the visitor's locker room. Duke cited 60 carpet tiles that were so damaged by spray paint that they couldn't be cleaned.

In other parts of the stadium, "UNC" was spray-painted onto several walls, which required cleaning, and the practice field was defaced with a 20-yard-long line of paint.

According to emails between the administration at both schools, North Carolina's coach called Duke coach David Cutliffe six days after the game to apologize for his team's behavior. Cutliffe apparently never returned the call, which irked North Carolina.

UNC athletic director Bubba Cunningham also expressed that he didn't understand how the costs for cleaning and repair could be so high, but rather than dispute them expressly, he only apologized on behalf of his school. UNC players had their per diem meal funds for their next football game taken away as punishment for the actions, and both Cunningham and UNC coach Larry Fedora split the cost of Duke's bill, writing personal checks.

So it's mostly a problem that's in the rear-view mirror for both programs. But when some Duke fans defaced property on UNC's campus after a basketball game earlier this year, North Carolina could have sent a corresponding bill to its rival school. Instead, it ate the cost.

The message? Don't be so petty, Blue Devils.

Richie Incognito's return to the NFL has touched nerves all across the country. But in Buffalo, which the lineman now calls home, his presence has set off both outrage and discomfort about the message it sends to the surrounding community.

Incognito is so polarizing in Buffalo because the community was recently in the national spotlight for a teen suicide driven by years of homophobic bullying and abuse from his peers. Jamey Rodemeyer hanged himself in September 2011, and his story became the driving force behind anti-bullying PSAs across the United States.

More than three years later, the community has not fully recovered. Bullying remains a sensitive subject. And Incognito is bullying's poster-boy in sports after former teammate Jonathan Martin outed him to the country for the abuse he was dishing out.

As that story developed, Jamey's father, Tim Rodemeyer was watching. As The Buffalo News recently explained, Tim watched with the painful realization that bullying is not isolated to teenagers -- anyone can do it.

Tim is a Buffalo Bills fan. As one might expect, Incognito's signing brings a mix of emotions. New coach Rex Ryan has pledged to "build a bully" in Buffalo, but that's not the type of mindset Tim would like the team to see.

As he explained to the News, he understands the rationale behind bringing Incognito onto the team. He just hopes things are different now.

“I just hope he’s turned over a new leaf,” Tim told the News. “You have to be concerned with his pattern of behavior, but it’s a team trying to win. Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad.

“But if something else happens, they better get rid of him. I would not be happy if they kept him.”

Tim's hope is that the Bills will use Incognito's presence as an opportunity. Opening a dialogue and using Incognito to drive anti-bullying PSAs could be a step in that direction.

But if Incognito is the same old bully, he might find himself at odds with the city of Buffalo.

Older fans of the Washington Redskins remember the glory days of the 1970s and 1980s, which featured perennial winning and plenty of franchise pride.

Then after a Super Bowl championship season in 1991, and the winning run ground to a halt. And in 1999, the franchise was sold to current owner Dan Snyder. For some, that transaction has become a waking nightmare for the Washington team.

Not only has the team failed to return to its winning ways, but its owner has turned the franchise into a league laughingstock. Most notably there has been his refusal to consider an alternative mascot to the offensive 'Redskins' while using his position of power and wealth to wage personal vendettas and bully those who cross his path.

At least, that's the premise to be explored in a proposed documentary, "Under Our Skins." The project, which is currently fundraising through IndieGoGo, tells the story of Snyder's tenure as owner through his lengthy legal battle with local sportswriter Dave McKenna.

McKenna, a former writer for the Washington City Paper and a long-time chronicler of Snyder -- he's written more than 500 articles on the owner over the years. He was named by Snyder in a lawsuit after the City Paper ran a scathing piece using Snyder as an example of how to poorly run a professional sports franchise.

The two creators behind the documentary, Mark Farkas and Judy Plavnick, first got the idea during the legal battle in 2011. Farkas and Plavnick aren't just interested citizens, either: Farkas is a Peabody Award-winning producer at C-SPAN, while Plavnick has won five Emmys for her work with PBS, ESPN, NFL Films and other outlets.

Here's a preview clip:

"I just thought it was a very good story to tell," Plavnick tells The Washington Post. "And as a producer, you want to tell good stories. Dan Snyder and the Skins: it’s a good story, and I think it’s one worth telling, and one I hope people would find worth watching."

The duo is seeking up to $99,000 in funding for the project, with hopes of finishing the documentary before the 2015 season. The pair also plans to approach the project objectively, and they are hopeful Snyder himself will want to go on record and defend himself.

Today, Jameis Winston is a possible No. 1 pick in the upcoming NFL draft. In the meantime, he's being scrutinized by NFL teams in every way possible. Yet the most jarring and combustive smudge on his resume -- a sexual assault accusation that has, amid much controversy, never led to a police investigation -- is branded only as a "distraction."

In other words, it won't jeopardize Winston's shot at becoming an overnight millionaire when some NFL team tabs him as its quarterback of the future. For as long as he can play football, Winston will be coveted, cheered, even adored.

His shadow, though, will follow him wherever he goes. A new documentary won't do Winston any favors in trying to escape his past.

"The Hunting Ground" is a documentary focused on the campus sexual assault rates that have plagued virtually every U.S. academic institution. The intersection of assault and athletics is only one component of the film's narrative. But it is easily the most visible and attention-getting, polarizing the debate and forcing sports fans to reckon with tough realities: That the athletes they have fashioned into heroes may be compromised by serious, violent transgressions.

As the film notes, the rate of assaults by student-athletes is out of proportion with the rest of campus society. Student-athletes are just 4 percent of the average campus population, but they commit 19 percent of reported sexual assaults.

"The Hunting Ground" features a prominent victim of that 19 percent: Erica Kinsman, the woman by whom Winston has been accused of rape, who speaks for the first time without the condition of anonymity. Kinsman was a pre-med freshman at Florida State when she was allegedly attacked by Winston.

Kinsman goes into graphic detail when recounting her attack by Winston, as well as the intense backlash she faced when she tried to bring her case to authorities, including the university and Tallahassee police.

"All these people were praising [Winston] ... and calling me a slut, a whore," says Kinsman, according to The Daily Beast. Later, Kinsman goes on to say, "I kind of just want to know, why me? It doesn't really make sense."

According to Kinsman, the night of her alleged attack by Winston started at Potbelly's, a popular Tallahassee drinking establishment. While there, she was bought a shot by a man and drank it. Shortly thereafter, she began to feel woozy. The memories that follow are hazy: A taxi brought her to an apartment where a man climbed on top of her and began having sex with her. Amid her pleading for the man to stop, a roommate entered the bedroom and also asked him to stop.

The attacker ignored his roommate and brought the woman into the bathroom, where he pinned her head against the tile floor and finished raping her.

Kinsman tells the cameras that when he was done, he told her, "You can leave now."

The attacker dropped Kinsman off at an intersection she knew, and the freshman reported the rape and had a rape kit performed.

Not until the first day of the spring semester did Kinsman discover her attacker's identity. He turned up in the roll call of one of her classes.

It was Winston.

At this point, Kinsman's fate was in the hands of police and investigators. A Tallahassee officer was assigned to her case. That officer -- Scott Angulo -- was an FSU graduate and a former employee for the Seminole Boosters fundraising organization.

Kinsman's legal representation notes a wide range of shortcomings in Angulo's work: He didn't interview Winston or get a DNA sample from the quarterback, didn't question the taxi driver who brought them both to Winston's apartment, didn't check video footage from Potbelly's -- where 30 security cameras are in operation -- and didn't question the alleged roommate who saw the attack.

Almost a year later, a DNA sample was finally acquired from Winston. It matched the DNA collected in Kinsman's rape kit.

The lazy rebuttal here is that one episode does not make an epidemic. But Winston is far -- as far as you can get -- from an isolated case in Tallahassee, Florida. Grantland's Charles P. Pierce recently noted that Florida State football players get every benefit of the doubt, and every gracious break, at law enforcement's disposal -- along with several other mulligans that the justice system isn't designed to afford.

The documentary indicates a number of reasons why college administrations are reluctant to tackle the issue: Damaged university reputations, the prospect of legal battles, and -- in the case of athletes -- the possible threat of boosters pulling their financial support.

The minority of women who do bring their assaults to campus officials receive responses that range from ignoring the problem to coaching the female one what she could have done differently. At one point in the documentary, assault survivor Annie Clark discusses the horror she experienced at the hands of a campus employee.

"So when I was assaulted in 2007, I was actually met with a very victim-blaming response and I wasn't even trying to formally report," she says. "I was actually just trying to get resources. I talked to one campus employee and she gave me this extended metaphor about how rape was like a football game and I was the quarterback in charge and what would I have done differently in that situation."

That's the response Clark got for just seeking help in the aftermath of her attack. One can imagine the response if she were to demand justice from the institution.

Encounters like this are one main reason why more than 40 percent of campus rapes go unreported. Director Kirby Dick has said that most college administrations take an amazingly similar response to reports of campus violence, hoping to keep things quiet and let inaction put the issue at rest.

The recent rise of campus sexual assault as a major social issue has happened in spite of administrative action. Instead, the film credits the ingenuity of some smart student victims.

According to producer Amy Ziering, female students have been using Title IX complaints as a means of forcing investigations and action. The legislation best known for its affect on the college sports landscape is being used because it demands that women have an equal opportunity to earn an education. A woman who is victimized by a campus sexual assault and then ignored by campus administration, they argue, is being denied this opportunity.

Although it felt like a longshot, the U.S. Department of Education agreed with this interpretation of Title IX, and began launching investigations. As of last month, Ziering said 97 schools were being investigated for Title IX violations.

"The Hunting Ground" focuses on a handful of sexual assault cases ignored, covered up, or even combated by major universities. Along with incidents at Florida State, Missouri, Vanderbilt and Oregon, the film zeroes in on the assault of Lizzy Seeberg, a freshman at St. Mary's College in Indiana. Seeberg was allegedly assaulted by a Notre Dame football player in 2010, and she filed a complaint with the school.

The investigation was a joke: School officials actively tried to disrupt and complicate inquiries into the matter, and a former Notre Dame police officer told the documentary crew that the police were barred from questioning athletes while on athletic property.

Two days after her assault, Seeberg -- who battled depression and an anxiety disorder -- received a text from one of her alleged attacker's friends. According to the Chicago Tribune, the text read, "Don't do anything you would regret. Messing with notre dame football is a bad idea."

Ten days after her attack, Seeberg committed suicide. Her alleged attacker, who was later revealed to be then-starting linebacker named Prince Shembo, now plays for the NFL's Atlanta Falcons and told reporters last year, "My name was pretty much cleared."

Dick, the director, says university administrations are paralyzed with fear. They don't want any involvement in the sexual assault because they're afraid of the fallout. It isn't an issue that schools seem concerned with attacking head-on, and the status quo of inaction is a long-running habit that has proven tough to overturn.

Still, the clamor for change has never been louder -- and "The Hunting Ground" is coming out at the perfect time to push the conversation to a boiling point.

The pending turning of the tides might be best characterized by sportswriter Kate Fagan's response to "The Hunting Ground," which left her pondering her own culpability as a sports industry professional.

"Who will be the first college president to say 'enough is enough?'" writes Fagan. "Who will be the first president to care more about the individuals actually on their campus than the potential applicants and the alumni with deep pockets?

"I'd buy a sweatshirt from that school!"

The Hunting Ground opens nationwide on March 20. CNN will also broadcast the documentary in its entirety.

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