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Thought id post the blog entry from a Reading fan and a trainee journo:
The 2007-2008 Premier League season came to a gripping end this past
Sunday with crucial decisions over Championships and relegation both
being decided on the final day. It was once again Manchester United,
the world's most powerful football club who retained their crown with a
team who can almost certainly claim to be one of the finest in the
modern era. The saddest thing about it is the soulless, hollow
celbrations which will be mirrored throughout the world. From Brixton
to Beijing, Durbanville to Dublin there will be scores of 'fans'
pretending to get excited about yet another title. The problem is I
don't believe them anymore. I think that they are all fakes. How can
you take pleasure in something which you played no part in? For the
vast, vast majority of United 'fans' (surveys have showed that over 90%
of the club's 'support' have never been to Old Trafford) the United
players are just figures on a television screen. Nothing more. To be a
Manchester United 'fan' is to indulge in a fantasy that you are
actually part of something.
Ferguson, Charlton and Kenyon have all talked of being part of the
'great United dynasty' on numerous occasions in the past. To a great
extent this is undoubtedly true as many great players have lifted many
important trophies in their illustrious history. However, my overiding
feeling for the vast majority of their fans will forever be sympathy.
Sympathy for their situation. Their soulless, empty, hollow existence.
For there will always be a limit to the joy which they can extract from
football. There will always be a limit to the joy they can get from
Cristiano Ronaldo's latest free kick or the most recent shiny piece of
silverware. This is because of the simple fact that the vast, vast,
vast, vast (lets just say vast x25 and leave it at that) majority of
them are viewing such events from armchairs, pubs and living rooms
worldwide in general. It is beacuse of this that I don't believe them.
However, your main feeling towards them must always be one of sympathy.
Just 24 hours before Ryan Giggs held aloft the Premier League title for
the 10th time in 16 seasons, Ebbsfleet United competed with Torquay for
the F.A Carlsberg trophy. It was in this game that a fantastic
illustartion of the symapthy I have for Manchjester United 'fans'
everywhere can be put into a much needed context. Helen Chamberlain,
television personality and a devoted Torquay supporter was spotted by
the Sky Sports cameras reacting to goalkeeper Martin Rice saving a
penalty for the Conference outfit. It really was something to behold as
her facial contortions were matched by the unusual shapes her body
attempted to make as she lived through the epic drama of the drawn out
save. The reason her emotion was so believable? Because why would
anyone, anywhere fake emotion about a Torquay penalty save. The reason
it meant so very much to her? Because success for a Torquay supporter
can probably be measured on a similar scale to that which is used to
measure how many people feel George Bush's presidency has been an
effective one.
I do not now, and never will feel that it is possible to underplay the
importance of the issue of locality when measuring somebodys attachment
to any sporting team. To be born and bred in an area is to know that
place, for all it's flaws, better than anywhere else in the world. You
feel attachemnt for buildings that other people would feel revulsion,
and you feel empathy for people that others would feel pity. Therefore,
if you are particularly inclined, your association with the your local
football, rugby, tennis, croquet or tiddlywinks club is something
equally inexplicable. You feel part of it because you have lived
through the good and deplorable periods in equal measure. You can also
probably remember the names of obscure players from obscure times at
the club and your enthusiasm has been as untempered by your 1993
mediocre joe bloggs cup win as it was by your 2008 relegation to the
'who gives a toss' division. The many, many, many, many (again we'l
just use the many x25 rule) Mnchester United fans can never have such a
connection because the vast majority of them weren't there for the bad
times. They can't remember any bad times. They cant name you obscure
players from obscure periods because the didn't suffer through the
eternal misery of looking at his fecking name every single home fixture.
As much as it sounds like bitterness or jealousy, I can assure you that
is not the overiding feeling which exists at time like this. Yesterday
Reading Football Club were relegated from the Premier League and the
pain caused by that event is reasssuringly real. Do you really think
that all the Manchester United 'fans' can say the same? Or, is it more
accurate to suggest that as the United juggernaut surges to one trophy
after another, the feelings are strangely underwhelming. Reminiscent of
Christmas morning without the toy garage you requested from Ma and Pa.
Good Luck to you all, United fans of the world. You will never know my
pain, just as you will never know my joy!
The 2007-2008 Premier League season came to a gripping end this past
Sunday with crucial decisions over Championships and relegation both
being decided on the final day. It was once again Manchester United,
the world's most powerful football club who retained their crown with a
team who can almost certainly claim to be one of the finest in the
modern era. The saddest thing about it is the soulless, hollow
celbrations which will be mirrored throughout the world. From Brixton
to Beijing, Durbanville to Dublin there will be scores of 'fans'
pretending to get excited about yet another title. The problem is I
don't believe them anymore. I think that they are all fakes. How can
you take pleasure in something which you played no part in? For the
vast, vast majority of United 'fans' (surveys have showed that over 90%
of the club's 'support' have never been to Old Trafford) the United
players are just figures on a television screen. Nothing more. To be a
Manchester United 'fan' is to indulge in a fantasy that you are
actually part of something.
Ferguson, Charlton and Kenyon have all talked of being part of the
'great United dynasty' on numerous occasions in the past. To a great
extent this is undoubtedly true as many great players have lifted many
important trophies in their illustrious history. However, my overiding
feeling for the vast majority of their fans will forever be sympathy.
Sympathy for their situation. Their soulless, empty, hollow existence.
For there will always be a limit to the joy which they can extract from
football. There will always be a limit to the joy they can get from
Cristiano Ronaldo's latest free kick or the most recent shiny piece of
silverware. This is because of the simple fact that the vast, vast,
vast, vast (lets just say vast x25 and leave it at that) majority of
them are viewing such events from armchairs, pubs and living rooms
worldwide in general. It is beacuse of this that I don't believe them.
However, your main feeling towards them must always be one of sympathy.
Just 24 hours before Ryan Giggs held aloft the Premier League title for
the 10th time in 16 seasons, Ebbsfleet United competed with Torquay for
the F.A Carlsberg trophy. It was in this game that a fantastic
illustartion of the symapthy I have for Manchjester United 'fans'
everywhere can be put into a much needed context. Helen Chamberlain,
television personality and a devoted Torquay supporter was spotted by
the Sky Sports cameras reacting to goalkeeper Martin Rice saving a
penalty for the Conference outfit. It really was something to behold as
her facial contortions were matched by the unusual shapes her body
attempted to make as she lived through the epic drama of the drawn out
save. The reason her emotion was so believable? Because why would
anyone, anywhere fake emotion about a Torquay penalty save. The reason
it meant so very much to her? Because success for a Torquay supporter
can probably be measured on a similar scale to that which is used to
measure how many people feel George Bush's presidency has been an
effective one.
I do not now, and never will feel that it is possible to underplay the
importance of the issue of locality when measuring somebodys attachment
to any sporting team. To be born and bred in an area is to know that
place, for all it's flaws, better than anywhere else in the world. You
feel attachemnt for buildings that other people would feel revulsion,
and you feel empathy for people that others would feel pity. Therefore,
if you are particularly inclined, your association with the your local
football, rugby, tennis, croquet or tiddlywinks club is something
equally inexplicable. You feel part of it because you have lived
through the good and deplorable periods in equal measure. You can also
probably remember the names of obscure players from obscure times at
the club and your enthusiasm has been as untempered by your 1993
mediocre joe bloggs cup win as it was by your 2008 relegation to the
'who gives a toss' division. The many, many, many, many (again we'l
just use the many x25 rule) Mnchester United fans can never have such a
connection because the vast majority of them weren't there for the bad
times. They can't remember any bad times. They cant name you obscure
players from obscure periods because the didn't suffer through the
eternal misery of looking at his fecking name every single home fixture.
As much as it sounds like bitterness or jealousy, I can assure you that
is not the overiding feeling which exists at time like this. Yesterday
Reading Football Club were relegated from the Premier League and the
pain caused by that event is reasssuringly real. Do you really think
that all the Manchester United 'fans' can say the same? Or, is it more
accurate to suggest that as the United juggernaut surges to one trophy
after another, the feelings are strangely underwhelming. Reminiscent of
Christmas morning without the toy garage you requested from Ma and Pa.
Good Luck to you all, United fans of the world. You will never know my
pain, just as you will never know my joy!
