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  2. I’d like to set out my stall early doors. I’m ambivalent about football. I love to watch it, but it’s the fans I can’t stand. Never mind the drunken yobs who terrorise towns and cities up and down the land every Saturday, even the most seemingly bright, intelligent person can become illogical and blinded to reality when football rears its ugly head.

    It’s the unswerving partisanship that baffles me. The way they can love one team more than they love life itself, but hate another in the next (or even the same) town like poison which makes no sense. They way they verbally abuse a player mercilessly when he plays for a rival team, but would donate a kidney to the same player when he signs for their club.

    As you know, I’m from Sheffield, a city with two not-very-good football teams, neither of which have won anything worth a damn during my lifetime. OK, Sheffield Wednesday (my team) won the who-cares League Cup in the 90s, but other than that, zilch. Now I know people, some of them in my own family, who support one of those Sheffield teams as if their very existence depended on it, yet regard the other team across town with an illogical loathing, disgust and hatred.

    While I like to see both Sheffield teams do well (hey, it’s good for the city, he said naively) those people crave nothing more than to see the “other team” lose ignominiously week-in, week-out. In their ideal world, not only would the “other team” lose every game, they would slide inexorably down the leagues, be condemned to non-league football and eventually go into receivership and close down altogether. At which point the ground would be bulldozed and quicklime poured onto the rubble, ensuring that nothing grew there for 100 years.

    That’s why I hesitate to call myself a football fan.

    • You’re right to hesitate by the looks of things, JC. Calling yourself a football fan wouldn’t carry much conviction.

      I think you’re exaggerating though. I think football fans ‘hate’ other teams in the same way that people round here ‘hate’ Nickelback, or U2, in other words not really at all. True, it can be a good excuse for a bundle, but all that ‘We hate Nottingham Forest’ stuff is just tribal breast-beating. Mostly I think they just pity them for being foolish enough to support a team that isn’t their own. They don’t hate them in the way that I hate Paul Dacre.

      And as for the whole country being put to the sword by drunken yobs every Saturday, I think you may have been away from Blighty too long.

      • I was being facetious to a degree Mike. But if you’ve ever been to a pub near a football ground you’ll know just how threatening the atmosphere can be in the surrounding streets. And as JW says, the away fans are penned in for their own protection. I’ve been to a few away games in recent years and the hostility is palpable and not a little scary.

        As for the hatred aimed at other teams, it may be an affectation, but it’s become a pretty convincing one for many people.

    • I once had a discussion with a mate of mine and asked him why people hate David Beckham. “Because he plays for Man U, and everyone hates Man U ” he replied. “What about when he’s playing for England?” I asked. “Then they love him because he is a brilliant player” he replied. Urrrrr.

  3. I love football and have never hated other teams. I don’t particularly like Chelsea but I was pleased when they won the Champions League because I like to see “our” teams win it, no matter who they are.

    The arrival of When Saturday Comes was important to me because it wasn’t a rampant hate-filled fanzine. Some really funny jokes and intelligent writing – if a little boring/worthy at times.

    What I find hard to understand is the considerable amount of English football fans that don’t care about the national team. Yes, they are a heap of shit – but they are *our* heap of shit. Besides, you can always tolerate (or even quite like) the smell of your own farts.

  4. Footy It’s part of every day Office life where I work – taking the mick out of people at work who support ‘glory teams ‘ like Chelsea or Man U having never set foot in either ground . We have set up a fantasy league at work and my footy knowledge is questionable with current premiership sides but I thought I’d have a go rather than leave it to random auto generate. I’ve picked 2 players that have injuries and for g k I chose jo hart who has been dropped / is probably on the verge of being sold .
    Great start to season.

  5. Love football apart from all the greed and money but cannot take football seriously when it’s still summer. Summer is for listening to John Arlot at Lords not discussing whether or not Man U are going to thump Southampton tonight. Mind you The Blackeye Rovers Berk who scored two cracking own-goals then got sent off IS worth discussing (and he scored a cracking own-goal in the previous game and Celtic want to sign him – now that’s what I call football…)

    • Richard Dunne, holder of the PL double: most red cards (jointly with 8), and out on his own with 10 own goals. A City player naturally. Would love to have seen him attempt Pep’s inside-out centreback trickery and possession football.

  6. If it’s any help, Arsenal are already having exactly the same season as last season. And the one before that. Oh, and the one before that. Oh yeah, and the one before that. And…..erm…..yeah…..you get the idea?

  8. Only went to the soccer (football for you lot) once in 1983 while staying with a freind in London.

    He was a Chelsea supporter which was fine by me as the colours aligned with my aussie Rules the North Melbourne Kangaroos.

    Was like entering a protected area in a war zone. Complete segregation, whereas down here we intermingle and, by and large, sledge each others team without violent consequence…though there was that time an old lady hit Dad over the head with an umbrella and called him a pie eating idiot, but she was a Collingwood supporter.

    I think you need to score more goals. Like more roots, the supporters would be much less wound up.

        • That’s the main tired old cliché the Aussie Rules fans trot out in relation to, er, “soccer” – not enough goals. They don’t understand that it can end 0-0 and still be a great spectacle.

          What they don’t admit is that anyone can score in Aussie Rules. No crossbar and four goalposts. Even Stevie Wonder could get a hat trick

          • Irish /aussie comedian Jimeoin makes the point that there are the big sticks – goals, and smaller sticks either side for the lesser score – points. So you get a point for missing….I can see what you were trying to do..

            I’m not arguing you need more goals to make it interesting, the atmosphere fantastic and I enjoy the code generally. I’m just saying the pent up tension must add to the propensity for violence. But thinking some more that doesn’t explain the dust ups before the games.

            • I know JW. But there was a lot of opposition from the AFL side when the A-League was set up. And even when Australia was bidding for the 2018 and 2022 World Cup the AFL overlords were adamant that no AFL grounds would be made available during the season.

              And that’s before we even get to knuckle draggers like Sam Newman and Eddie McGuire.

              I must confess that the AFL obsession is the one thing that puts me off visiting the otherwise beautiful city of Melbourne (voted the world’s most liveable city yet again just yesterday).

              (rest of the Afterword looks on blankly at this point)

  9. Football was invented by the Celts. The severed head of a Chieftain foe would be booted around the sacred grove by two opposing teams of warriors from the same tribe. Always a friendly you see, and the Druid was the referee and he blew a sacred whistle made of an acorn husk that made a psychoactive sound that sent the players into a frenzy, so much so that the severed head didn’t last long and therefore no side ever one. Sacred mandrake slices were had at half time if they made it that far.

    • This thread is like Billy The Fish, or that other strip where a team of no-hopers came together to win the league or whatver it was. One kicked the wrong way and ball curved back over his head. That one.

    • Very few goals scored from corners in those days. Although it was a privilege to watch the then still teenage Stanley Matthews wedge his foot into the mouth of the severed head and dribble around the opposition defence as though the ball was “stuck to his foot”..

  10. Never been to a football match, have been to half a rugby match. It’s the noise I can’t stand, the roar of the crowd and the shouting of the commentators.
    Does that help Saucy.

    This was football for me.

  11. Here’s a Manchester contribution for you @h-p-saucecraft. After flirting outrageously with Pep Guardiola for the last few years (‘look Pep all your friends are already here, what are you waiting for?’) City have finally enticed him to spend their money. Despite the defence being our achilles heel (captain and talisman Vincent Kompany, future mayor of Brussels managing oh 7 minutes of the biggest match in our recent history on his return from previous injuries) Pep has spent our petrodollars on a pacy winger, another pacy winger, an injured midfielder, a pacy forward who’s staying in Brazil, and various other young pacy midfielders, forwards. Oh and a defender who had a terrible season last year and though looking great going forward nobody’s actually sure whether he can like, defend good or not. Early matches have seen the left and right backs in midfield, midfielders as centre backs and generally everyone adopting a Brian Eno Oblique Strategies approach. I’m sure it’ll all work out.
    Meanwhile across town the Biggest Football Club in the World (c) who for years turned their nose up at Voldemort-style prince of darkness Jose Mourinho have had to bite the bullet, invite him in and sacrifice their firstborn: in this case it means sending out all the kids on loan (for which read never coming back) while Jose entices walking soundbite Zlatan (‘Zlatan does not do fitness, fitness does Zlatan’ etc) and most expensive footballer in the world and walking haircut Paul Pogba – who United sold to Juventus three years(?) ago for £1 mil and have had to pay £89 million to get him back. He’s a top exponent of dance move ‘the dab’ which all the kids are doing so that’s worth it.
    So strap in for a rift in space and time opening up over Piccadilly Square as football eats itself and flesheaters consume us all.

  12. The thing about England, right, is that instead of sticking it up em at 100 mph like they do for their clubs week in week out, they ponce about slowly and endlessly playing it square and seeing if they can use the old Sumo tactic of eyeballing the opposition for 20 minutes until they crack and then BAM! Unfortunately, what actually happens is that the other team quickly realises that there is no plan B and simply decides to run a bit faster and score a goal, usually assisted by Ol’ Rubber Hands between the sticks. Talking of sumo, that large Hawaiian Yokozuna was a fearsome presence but after a while everyone realised all you had to do was stand on his toe and he’d squeal like a little girl, hopping on one leg while holding his throbbing tootsies with both hands -urgently blowing on them. Even Charles Hawtrey could then simply prod him with his index finger, upending the fat fuck and leaving him flailing like a soiled baboon halfway out of the basho and out of contention – shamed and ridiculed. Basically, right, England should bloody well take off their talent cancelling headphones, get into them, and kick the fucking ball in the direction of the other side’s goal. Forget set pieces and tactical manoeuvres that would baffle Deep Blue Something. Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Don’t make me laugh…that song worked a few times but when you play the same tune time after time for 30 years, and it’s your only song – other bands get better because they have other songs. Even bloody Racey had more than one tune – and they were rubbish. Hopefully Big Sam can learn from Deep Blue Something, the Rembrandts and the Spin Doctors. Yes, you can make a nice living from being really good at one tune but you’ll never win the World Cup if your follow up single sounds exactly the same.

  13. Oddly, while walking into work this morning I remembered the smell of watching football when I was younger. A mix of fags, burgers, leather jackets and ropey aftershave. Quite evocative.

  14. Least interest I have had in 30 years. All the money in the game is obscene. Am a Liverpool fan, but Klopp awarded a nice fat new contract for coming 8th? A mediocre centre back goes to Man City for nearly 50 million?

    Last year was an aberration with success of Leicester and Wales, will keep head down and try and avoid the game for a few months which is difficult even in Canada.

    • The length of the Prem tendrils is becoming scary, for sure. I was watching some take-themselves-seriously opinionlumps on an American political talk show the other day and in the heat (little light) of the discussion someone’s phone bleeped. What could the interruption be? “The baby’s on the way!!!!”? Trump removes his mask to reveal that he is the still alive Andy Kaufman and this whole campaign has been the surrealist comedian’s greatest jape. In other news, Andy Kaufman is being questioned about the disappearance of Donald Trump in 1984.
      No. “Liverpool will not be selling Benteke to Palace”…
      “Palace, Palace, Who the f*ck are Palace?” screams apple pie America..

  15. It’s the Championship for me this season. Following Newcastle and Villas fortunes could well be the most exciting thing about this season. Watching plucky underdogs trying their damnedest in front of baying Geordies and Brummies will make for great viewing. They may well come out on top at the end of the season but watching them get the odd bloody nose should be fun. Then there’s Big Sams England, I can’t wait, it will be a roller coaster of stroppy players being told some home truths (Raheem Sterling meets Big Sam, brilliant) left field selections, step forward Andy Carroll, press conferences and interviews including several more home truths but I suspect at the end still the same old England but with all of our expectations truly set where they belong at average.

    • For me too, which is a nice surprise, considering my team (Barnsley) were bottom of League 1 last December. But otherworldly form in 2016 saw us sweep everybody aside, winning at Wembley for the first and second times in our 129 years (admittedly, Wembley wasn’t around for the first 36) to take home the last Football League Trophy that means anything (i.e. before they thought the competition would improve by allowing Reading reserves to enter) and the League 1 play-off trophy. Not only that, but wins over Derby and QPR in the past week sees us sitting nicely in 7th position. Would be lovely not to be in a relegation battle this season, but over the 46 games I expect the big gulf in budgets between us and 75% of the division to show and us to be battling at the other end with Rotherham and Burton.

      I’ll just be happy to make it to the end of August without losing any of our better players. The vultures seem to be circling around Alfie Mawson though, so can’t see us keeping hold of him. Fortunately, nobody’s realised that Marc Roberts is our best centre back. If we can keep hold of Conor Hourihane we should have enough to stay up.

      As for the wider world of football, hate it. The money in the game and the way it is distributed is obscene. At least at Barnsley we have a Reds supporting owner who is trying to make the club self sufficient by scouting the best players from the lower leagues and non-league and developing them into key players and saleable assets. We also have a Reds fan and former player as manager, who is very level headed and has the team playing attractive high tempo attacking football that is attracting many plaudits. I’m on my holidays at the mo, but by all accounts I missed a cracker the other night against QPR, who usually beat us.

      But I can’t see myself ever watching a game of football again that doesn’t involve either Barnsley, my local team Penistone Church or the in-laws’ team Raith Rovers. I don’t even bother with the Cup Final or the World Cup/Euros any more. The way the game has developed over the last 20 years, with the money, the cheating, the bias towards the top half a dozen teams and the downright unlikeability of the players has totally put me off. When I was a kid I was football obsessed. I now despise the game.

  16. As a kid my team were in division 3 over the years they slowly climbed to division 1 and had 1 season In the premiership And now they are back in league 1.
    Was glad to see Wales success at the euros . their squad had some under rated players .

  18. Talking of jumpers for goalposts, let us consider Accrington Stanley, who I have been mildly fascinated by ever since Leonard Martin’s mellifluous tones kept me informed of their progress every Saturday afternoon. They disappeared at some point (1966, it turns out), only to reappear, unnoticed by me, in 2006, and are currently paddling around at 15 in Div. 2.

    Their history is complicated, as evidenced by the Accrington Stanley Wikipedia entry: Not to be confused with Accrington Stanley F.C. (1891) or Accrington F.C., separate clubs from the same town. I’ll leave you to worry away at the rest…any excuse to post this.

  20. Aah football. I love it.

    There’s the simplicity. The ball is round. Yes, you can apply spin and swerve but it’s behaviour is entirely predictable. A player has to control it. Then, in order to do something useful with it, they have to find space, either for themselves or others.

    It’s a team game. For individuals. A team needs selfish, super-talented attacking players with indestructible egos and a bunch of others willing to sacrifice life and limb to win the ball off the opposition and pass it to their talent. They need to work together collectively in order to boost the wages of the star players.

    The rules are comprehensive and constantly evolve. Managers and players work tirelessly to bend them. Hence, all the abuse of referees and the pretending you’ve been hurt, while innocently scratching and gouging the other team.

    For the fan, allegiance to a team and hope are eternal. This time, it’s going to happen. This time, we will get to the final. This time, we will have a decent team. This time, we will beat our arch enemy. The fan believes and empties their wallet. Season in, season out.

    However, being part of a crowd is thrilling in itself, regardless of what happens on the pitch. One’s identity is absorbed into a single amorphous whole. It is a greedy, selfish, one-eyed, profanity-spouting entity but, at least one is part of it.

    Football can look pretty and has a certain amount of glamour but its success is down to base instincts, an appeal to the lowest common denominator. It is about humanity at its most raw, living in the moment, experiencing extremes of emotions, indulging in the most bizarre of behaviours.

    But when Duncan McKenzie nutmegs Tommy Smith and the crowd roar him on towards the goal, there is nothing more exciting on earth. Bill Shankly was right. Football is more important than life or death. Then, so was Brian Clough when he said football is a simple game played on grass.

    Right. I’m off to the match.

  21. New ground today. A match in the LWC Drinks Combination League.
    Pitch slap bang in the middle of nowhere, so I’m allowing myself about 3 hours to find it and the local pub. Average crowd = 30.

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