On Sunday afternoon, Old Trafford was caught in a wave of collective euphoria as a stunning Dimitar Berbatov hat trick dispatched three points from Manchester United’s most historic and intense of rivals, Liverpool. Such jubilation is a familiar sight when either one of these great footballing stalwarts gain a temporary upper hand over the other. However, contrast this with last Tuesday evening in the same arena and you will find a far more accurate depiction of what fandom has become at one of Britain’s most famous sporting theatres. The flat, expressionless performance by United on the pitch was mirrored by the depressingly drab and lazy support that filled the 78,000 plus seats. Entertainment for its own sake has replaced unconditional love and loyalty on the terraces of Old Trafford…and it is not alone.
The steady yet pronounced gentrification of football in the last twenty years has had a profound effect on the sport. The unquenchable thirst of the multinational corporation to infiltrate every facet of the game has led to a self-orchestrated castration of football with its natural demographic. Football, at least in stadia and for those supporting the supposed ‘illustrious’ clubs, can no longer be seen as the working man’s sport.
Recently, I had the great honour of travelling through Latin America, where the commercial franchise model has not yet monopolised sport. From the beaches of Copacabana to the dizzying altitudes of the Cordillera Blanca and Potosi, footballs natural inclusiveness engulfs and marvels communities.
In Quito, Ecuador, on a warm Sunday afternoon, El National line up against Barcelona (ECU). These teams are amongst the most well supported and illustrious clubs in the country yet the price of a ticket to see this national spectacle is just $7, the equivalent of just over £5. The most surprising thing is the depth of affinity each fan has for their respective clubs. To the left of us as we sit, stand a menacing group of ‘ultras’ (understood as the most fanatical members of the support) and their area is sectioned off by huge drapers with the team’s colours of red and blue. Each member has a scarf wrapped around their fist and held high above their heads, whilst huge flags sway with the beating of a collective heart. The match itself is relatively standard yet this does nothing to dampen the spirits and will of the support, which quickly overpowers the football as my main source of fascination. Such a scene is a million miles from those at Old Trafford on Tuesday night, or even Sunday. There are no parents desperate to protect their mechandise laden children from ‘unsuitable behaviour’, no suited men whose main preoccupation remains their bluetooth headsets, and, most importantly, no sense of detachment or abandonment from the fans towards their club. At what point did English and European football lose its essence? How have impersonal and destructive forces been able to ravage the soul of a sport that for so long stood as a social element? Most importantly: can football be saved?
Any exercise in social change must go through the same two-stage procedure. First, the problem must be diagnosed. The debate over where and how football has lost its way is both familiar and multi-faceted; it is now an almost universally held view that there is simply too much money in the game. Yet with the mainstream media seemingly content on stopping debate any further than simply acknowledging that player wages are too high and that ticket prices are outrageous, it does nothing to help understand the deeper problem. Making rich players the scapegoat of football’s moral decline is a dangerous and inaccurate argument. What must be dissected is the role played by the people in the higher echelons of the club ‘franchise’, who, with very few exceptions, have been the brainchildren behind the commercial epidemic we see today. Ticket prices, player wages, along with the clear priority placed on profit are all decisions made in the board rooms. A football club today runs as any other capitalistic model; the bosses have been able to hijack what were cultural items and an intrinsic part of community (created by the worker and fan) and make it into a profitable industry.
Loving the passion, Jonson!!
Vialli and Marcotti wrote about football in England (in ‘The Italian Job’) being very different from the rest of Europe with regards to socio-economic influences i.e. why is it so pronounced in England that football is coupled with ‘working class’? You’d be interested by what Ferguson, Lippi and Mourinho say – though it’s less politically charged than what you’ve got here!!
I disagree in a big way when you marginalise the upper echelons of franchise football club personnel as the sole instigators of everything you say has disillusioned the modern football fan. As a collective, we’re culpable. There are cultural differences of mentality, across the world, where football is concerned compared to other sports; the other day when Messi got injured you could see a lot of fans taunting him while he was being stretchered off. I mean, that’s just ridiculous. There’s a lack of class in the sport – what’s the reason? Education alone? I don’t think so. Tough to answer. This ties in to what the public want; footballers get paid so much because there’s a vast market of people wanting to be entertained by them.
so much truth here. even at arsenal all you hear is moans and groans. the way i see it is that there are two kinds of football fans these days. home fans and away fans. that is all
I haven’t checked in here for a long time for the reason that I believed it was getting boring, however the last several blogposts are wonderful high-quality so I think I’ll add you back to my day-to-day bloglist. You are worthy of it my friend :-]