Category Archives: Football

You Set The Scene

The question of the declining atmosphere at OT is one that’s been done to death over the years. All seater stadia, prohibitive ticket prices, an aging fanbase, lack of unreserved seating – we all know the contributing factors. It’s got to the point now where even games like Liverpool and City can’t be relied upon to rouse the crowd either – there’s the usual expectation and hype beforehand, but all too often the games themselves have been relatively subdued affairs in comparison with past meetings. There’s more of a buzz about the place certainly, but the necessary level of frenzied (for want of a better word)…‘hatred’ doesn’t seem to be there anymore.

People often wheel out their experiences from decades previous to explain what’s missing from the modern day game. When I first started going in the early 80’s, my Dad and his cronies would regularly regale me with tales of the 60’s and 70’s to explain what a ‘real’ atmosphere was like. ‘You had be here at 1pm, otherwise you’d be locked out’ and all that kind of caper. The 80’s are held in regard as halcyon days now, but in reality they weren’t the all-singing, all-dancing, maelstrom of noise and excitement they’re remembered as – for the most part they were pretty crap.

Think back to the games you remember from that era and you’ll recall the handful (if that) of big European nights or the FA Cup QF’s v’s Everton and West Ham…or beating the scousers on occasion. No one cites the turgid 0-0’s vs West Brom or the defeats to Norwich – played out in front of perpetually frustrated, below capacity crowds. The football was mostly shite during that era and for the most part, the atmosphere at the games reflected that. It was still ace, though.

Like misty-eyed pensioners harping back to bombed out houses and rationing, what people really miss from that period is the sense of camaraderie and the collective hope that things might some day improve on the pitch. Although we once existed in relative squalor, we wouldn’t change those days for the world. Yet here we are now, stuck scratching our heads, thinking ‘what the fuck?’ in the theme park-esque utopia that is the post-promised land, modern day OT. Times have changed and there are some advantages, I don’t want to spend hours queuing up for a place on the terraces anymore. I’m quite content arriving 2 minutes before kick off and taking my usual seat, thanks very much.

Where I sit in K-Stand, there’s little evidence of this influx of middle class supporters that has supposedly invaded ‘our’ game. Sure, there are certainly more women and kids in attendance than there were once upon a time – but for the most part, I see the same faces that have been going for years. Yet K-Stand is rarely the raucous, bear-pit that it was once-upon-a-time – more often than not it’s flat and subdued. I just sense that after 20 years of watching the team clean up domestically, most just can’t really be arsed anymore. Collectively, we’ve become spoilt and lazy.

Try to recall the games at Old Trafford that were properly bouncing over the last 5 years. The last one was the League Cup SF v’s City a couple of years ago and before that you’ve got the CL Semi against Barca. Other than that, I’m genuinely struggling. A bit further back I can recall the 1-0 v’s Chelsea when Fletcher scored and better still, the 2-0 win vs Arsenal on the day we ended the ‘Invincibles’ run.

On the rare occasions the team needs a lift, the OT crowd haven’t responded in recent times. The Blackburn game on New Year’s Eve was appalling. After being 2-0 down and then pulling it back to 2-2 with 25 minutes to go, there was nothing – a brief celebration after the equaliser but then everyone settled back down and waited for the inevitable winner. The place could and should have been rocking, but we’re complacent these days – that’s what watching this team has done to us. We turn up, we expect, the team normally delivers.

The answer, according to a proposal recently sent to the club by the rodent-fronted, Stretford End Flags group is to introduce yet another singing section into the proceedings. Excuse me for not sharing much enthusiasm for this idea, but is there really any point to this other than gaining further publicity for the group itself? Designing and funding banners/mosaics is one thing, but I don’t see how shifting round a couple of thousand season tickets in the Scoreboard Paddock (East Lower) will bring about any marked improvement in the stadium noise levels.

One has to bear in mind that the last such initiative (the singing section located in ST2) achieved very little other than lead to an increase in 200mph, happy-clappy versions of ‘Take Me Home’ and ‘Build A Bonfire’. To my mind, there either is an atmosphere or there isn’t one. You can’t force these things and doing so is exactly the kind of contrived, Soccer AM style bullshit we should be attempting to steer clear of.

The most disheartening part of SEF’s blueprint for OT’s future however, is the genius proposal to shift visiting fans from their existing home in the SE corner (or L Stand as I’m going to insist on still calling it), up into the 3^rd tier of the North Stand. Word is that the club are fully behind the plan and are set to trial it at the Villa game in a few weeks time. Whilst this is undoubtedly fantastic news for the poor sods with the misfortune to hold season tickets up there, the implications for those of us residing nearer sea-level are pretty grim.

It’s obvious (check Ajax and Bilbao recently) the presence of visiting fans leads to an improved atmosphere about the place, and that most of the noise generated at pitch level currently stems from the left hand side of K-Stand – mainly due to their close-proximity to the away supporters. Surely moving the visitors from this area will only result in further life being sucked out of the ground?

Sticking visitors up in Tier 3 no doubt makes logistic sense to the club. Away fans will be easier to segregate and police, plus there’s the added bonus of being able to offload the worst seats in the house to them at a premium price. I suspect we’ll then see the existing visitors’ coach park re-located to behind the North Stand somewhere, which in turn will free up the recently pedestrianised forecourt. In place of the traditional sights of police escorts and piles of horseshit, instead we’ll see one of those godawful fanzone areas erected in which further £’s can be extracted from willing daytrippers. The club must be rubbing their hands together at the prospect.

I suppose it’s indicative of where we are now when you’ve got groups purporting to represent fans’ interests not only backing, but actually devising such nonsense. The atmosphere is shocking for the most part now, but as I’ve made clear, I’m not naïve enough to think there’s a solution readily available that will magically transport us back to a golden age that never really existed to begin with. You can’t force people to sing and generate noise, it has to happen organically for it to have any meaning. SEF would be better advised to focus on protecting the fans’ culture that still exists in the ground, not risk its further erosion by attempting to impose ill-conceived changes. Perhaps I should just be content they haven’t suggested drummers and trumpets yet?

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Doing It For The Kids II

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The culmination of my first season in charge of the local kids’ team was to be a day at the Stockport Junior Blues 6-a-side tournament. It’s an annual thing held every July with some 200 teams taking part and one of the largest events of its type in the UK. It features teams ranging in age from U7-U16, many of who’ve travelled from all over the country.

As is standard with anything connected to City these days, it’s massive – loads of pitches, bouncy castles, hot dog vans…it’s a pretty impressive set-up to be fair. After arriving, dumping my bags and locating a few of our kids, I went to the registration tent where I was greeted by my co-manager. Our first game was due to start at midday, though he’d been there since about 10am. “Just been watching a few games!” That’s what he’s like.

He scanned the fixture list with a grimace. “Some good teams here today”. “Yeah.” “I think we should do things differently.” “Like what?” “Forget the mixed teams for the day…let’s go A and B.” This had been a bone of contention for some time, my feeling being that we are generally so crap, it makes no sense to try and split our lads according to ability. He meanwhile, is of the opinion that having clearly defined A and B teams will instil some sort of hierarchy, thus providing an incentive for the poor saps dumped into team B. Faced with a long, undoubtedly stressful day ahead, I couldn’t be arsed arguing the toss. “Okay then, whatever.”

According to the phone calls and texts received the day before, we had 16 ‘definite’ and a couple of ‘he’s ill…but I’ll see how he is in the morning’s. With us having to submit 2 teams, each scheduled to play 9 (NINE!) games – we desperately needed everyone to turn up. We ended up with 12, leaving my mate and I only 6 players each. No substitutes, then. Marvellous.

So my beaming co-manager (he’s really in his element today) gets his notepad out and frantically starts scribbling out lists of names and formations. Within a minute or so I get my half-dozen kids allocated. I’ve got the B team, naturally. I cast an eye over my charges and immediately alarm bells are ringing. God bless ‘em and everything, but this really isn’t looking good. Still, ‘hope springs eternal’ and all that. I put my manager head on and try to work out what’ll be the best way to get through this with minimal loss of dignity for all concerned – myself, the kids and the already irritated (the A and B team ‘plan’ hasn’t gone unnoticed) parents.

I get the lads together and explain that because we haven’t got a keeper, they’re going to have to take it in turns. Each match is only 5 minutes long but with 10 teams involved and all fixtures to be played on a single pitch, the wait between games is going to drag. I do my usual team talk, “try and stay focused…pass the ball…when you get near goal, have a shot…first to the ball… get your tackles in…it’s a hot day…plenty of fluids…try and go for a wee before the game, not during… just do your best…enjoy yourselves.”

We did alright in the first game. A hard fought 0-0 draw – but at least we kept some sort of shape and looked like we might do okay. “Well done lads, that was good. In the next game try and attack a bit…don’t just all stay camped round your own goal.” The team took the last part of this instruction to heart and this resulted in us adopting a revolutionary 0-0-5 formation. We got beat 7-0, meaning that on average, we’d managed to concede a goal every 40 seconds.

It was now about half two and we’d only played twice. The kids were bored out of their heads, it was boiling hot and their packed lunches had long since been devoured. Parents had lost interest and were either slumped in deckchairs with dead eyed stares or dutifully queuing for ice creams. I estimated that at best, it was another 4 hours or so before we’d be finished.

Finally, as 7pm neared, we were done. Our record for the day stood at played 9, won 0, drawn 1 and lost 8. Goals scored 1, goals conceded 26. What a fantastic end to the season. My co-manager’s verdict? “That was brilliant, wasn’t it?!” Resisting the urge to scream “NO, YOU FUCKING LUNATIC – IT WAS SHITE!”, I instead opted for something more conciliatory, “It’s all an experience for them, I suppose.” I consoled myself with the fact the kids were delighted with their medals (everyone gets a medal!) and I had a few weeks break from this nonsense.

Two weeks later, he was on the phone. “How do you fancy doing the FA Coaching Badge – Level 1? I think it’ll be good for us in our development as coaches. I’ve got the dates here, the club are going to pay!” “Erm…yeah okay, book us in.” The course was to be held a month later, 2 full weekends and 2 midweek evenings – not a problem as I had nothing planned, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility we might learn something and plus, someone had to keep an eye on him.

After asking around, I learnt that the course itself was a piece of piss. Part theory and part practical, bit of first aid, child welfare element, demonstrate a couple of drills…job’s a good ‘un. What I wasn’t prepared for was the fact that having not played properly for years, participating in the drills being demonstrated was destined to prove absolutely knackering. By 10am on the first day I had given up the pretence of showing off my limited football ability, it was simply a matter of keeping my breakfast down and trying not to pass out.

There are two distinct types of people doing these courses. Firstly you’ve got the bright-eyed, athletic types – young lads doing it to augment their studies, hopeful of making a career out of coaching. Some planned to go onto university, others to go travelling and get some work out in the US. This lot are there with drive, energy, focus, shin-pads and pencil cases – not merely sucked into attending by a snowballing set of circumstances that began with them being coerced into helping out their kids’ football team.

The other group then, comprised of shell-shocked, panting men in their 30s and 40s – beer guts, receding hairlines, questionable levels of fitness, each sporting a mish-mash of vintage, ill-fitting replica football gear. People whose Sunday mornings normally involve nothing more strenuous than a lie-in, reading the papers and perhaps getting dressed at some point. People like me.

The course turned out to be a good experience. Most of it was common sense, but a few useful pointers were picked up. The main thing I gained was a fuller appreciation and understanding of the use and application of multi-coloured plastic cones and bibs in modern coaching. The FA and their appointed tutors bloody love cones and bibs, simply can’t get enough of them.

Newly qualified, I was armed with the knowledge that if I stride around the pitch with a purposeful look on my face, placing cones and bibs at regular intervals, there’s a much-improved chance I’ll create the impression that I know what I’m doing – thus guaranteeing at least a modicum of respect from kids, parents and fellow members of the coaching fraternity. Satisfied with this development, I looked forward to the start of the new season.

Doing It For The Kids – Part 1

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Keep An Open Mind Or Else

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Like all great football rivalries, United and Liverpool’s stems from decades of mutual, on and off-pitch loathing: we don’t like them and they don’t like us. You can explore the sociopolitical identities of our two cities and find we have much in common, but in football terms – it’s fair to say Mancs and Scousers breathe different air and exist on different planets.

That said however, like some twisted sibling rivalry, the existence of one helps define and dictate the identity of the other. You’ll do well to meet a United fan who could honestly claim to pay Liverpool no attention and consider their fortunes an irrelevance. We’re in opposition to them on a daily basis, whether it be whilst celebrating moving ahead of them in terms of titles won or by simply sniggering at their unwavering devotion to that rotund oaf, Benitez.

As football supporters, we sport blinkers instinctively as part of our matchday attire. Question is: how much do we let an entrenched dislike of ‘the other’ invade our real lives? Taking football out of the equation, does the old adage of ‘never trust a Scouser’ (or Manc) ring true to the point it shapes opinions or influences relationships at home, socially or at work? The sensible answer to give is ‘no’, of course. That’s a line that reasonable, rational people don’t cross…but as we’ve witnessed recently, football rivalries can transcend what’s reasonable and rational and take us onto extremely dodgy terrain.

“We would rather have it done and dusted, out in the open. Whoever is the guilty party – the person who said it or the accuser – (should) get their due punishment.”

So uttered Kenny Dalglish back on the 28^th October, in his familiar, self-righteously indignant mode. Fully supportive of the FA’s decision to launch an independent enquiry into the events at Anfield – where just in case you’ve been away on another planet somewhere, Patrice Evra recently got into ‘a bit of a heated debate’ with Liverpool’s Luis Suárez.

Sadly for Kenny and advocates of racial intolerance everywhere, 9 weeks later, the 3 man independent panel appointed to investigate the matter found Suárez guilty, resulting in a fine of £40,000 and an 8 match suspension. Having steadfastly refused to contemplate anything other than the Uruguayan’s innocence from the start, this wasn’t part of the script at all as far as Kenny was concerned. Within minutes, Liverpool had released an official statement that made for incredible reading.

“We find it extraordinary that Luis can be found guilty on the word of Patrice Evra alone when no-one else on the field of play – including Evra’s own Manchester United teammates and all the match officials – heard the alleged conversation between the two players…”

In reality of course, the 2^nd part of that extract was superfluous. Liverpool were unable to grasp that Suárez could be found guilty at all – how could an independent panel listen to all the evidence in what was a highly emotive, sensitive case and reach an informed and considered decision against them? How dare they.

“LFC considers racism in any form to be unacceptable – without compromise…It is our opinion that the accusation by this particular player was not credible – certainly no more credible than his prior unfounded accusations.”

“In any form”…“without compromise”. Seriously?! This seemed slightly at odds with their assertion that Evra was an unreliable character, a truculent upstart ‘with previous’ for playing the race card.

“It is key to note that Patrice Evra himself in his written statement in this case said ‘I don’t think Luis Suárez is racist’. The FA in their opening remarks accepted that Luis Suárez was not racist.”

Hang on, I’m getting confused here – so are we to take notice of what Evra says or not? In the last paragraph they were claiming he wasn’t in any way credible, remember? Clearly we must disregard the part of Evra’s testimony that is damning towards Suárez, but take careful note of the part in which he states he doesn’t believe the guy is racist. That’s all a bit conveniently contradictory, isn’t it?

No one thought for a minute that Suárez was a card carrying member of the BNP…or UNP…or whatever. The FA’s verdict wasn’t casting aspersions on his political views, it was delivered following an investigation into a one-off incident. To illustrate: I’m not an alcoholic, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get pissed and make a tit of myself.

“Luis himself is of a mixed race family background as his grandfather was black…He has played with black players and mixed with their families whilst with the Uruguay national side and was Captain at Ajax Amsterdam of a team with a proud multi-cultural profile, many of whom became good friends.”

“Luis is also a keen fan of dub reggae and once enjoyed a relaxing, family holiday in the Caribbean. He respects diversity so much that he’ll often request half-rice and half-chips. He prefers 1970’s Michael Jackson, when his skin was considerably darker than it was in later years.” Okay, okay, we geddit.

“We would also like to know when the FA intend to charge Patrice Evra with making abusive remarks…in the most objectionable of terms. Luis, to his credit, actually told the FA he had not heard the insult.”

Oh so we were to pay attention to this part of Evra’s statement as well, were we? Funny that. So Suárez hadn’t considered it relevant to mention a key mitigating fact – that he’d been incited? Despite the seriousness of the allegations and potential damage to his personal and professional reputation, he’d chosen not to mention the fact he was provoked? Very odd.

The statement was an incendiary development in a story that had been a quietly smouldering since the original incident, weeks earlier. With the decision to wear ‘Suárez 7’ shirts in support of their troubled colleague at Wigan, a day later – Liverpool may as well have chucked a can of petrol over proceedings.

Up to that point, press reaction to the original verdict had been fairly mixed – if anything, most commentators in the football world seemed taken aback by the severity of the punishment imposed. The t-shirts, however, led to widespread condemnation. Consensus of opinion interpreting Liverpool’s actions as somewhat crass, rather than the classy and dignified gesture of solidarity as was intended.

The siege mentality is a common managerial tool in football, with our own manager utilising it to stunning effect over the years. As well as helping bond a dressing room, it’s a useful (if obvious) trick for getting supporters onside too. You purposefully perpetuate a sense of injustice with the insinuation being that everyone (whether that be referees, the authorities or the rest of the world in general) is wishing nothing but ill on you. Hence, everyone unites behind a common cause with the intention of upsetting the odds and proving all outsiders wrong.

As United fans, we’re well versed in seeing the world contrary to public opinion. We defended Eric whilst some were calling for him to be imprisoned or extradited back in Jan ’95, and closed ranks around a number of our players during the fallouts of England’s repeated tournament failings. Similar posturing from Liverpool though, looked spectacularly ill-judged in this instance – pinned in a corner, fervently defending Suárez’s right to repeatedly call an opponent ‘negro’. Such battles aren’t worth fighting, one would reasonably assume.

Still, fight they did. Dalglish was unrepentant in his post-match press conference, sounding bewildered as to the fuss taking place. “It would be helpful to everyone if someone gave us some guidelines about what you can and cannot say.” Yeah, these politically correct types, eh Kenny? Bloody can’t say anything these days…ask Jeremy Clarkson. Meanwhile, Alan Hansen waded in and found himself dangerously close to Ron Atkinson waters on MOTD.

The list of people to boycott and complain to was growing and anyone speaking out of term (Livepool’s terms) was rounded on. Stan Collymore was subjected to all kinds of abuse on twitter for daring to condemn the club’s stance, much of this coming from black and Asian LFC fans for whom misplaced loyalty to the club had taken precedence over common sense. John Barnes played it safe, peddling the ‘cultural differences’ line whilst Paul McGrath gave a withering assessment of Glen Johnson’s compliance in the t-shirt stunt during an interview on Talksport.

Ever the astute social commentator and nemesis of good grammar, Rio Ferdinand blundered in with a knee-high challenge on twitter. “I’m seeing sooo many BOUNTY’s!! I hate them personally!!” Either that, or he’d just opened a tin of Celebrations.

Liverpool must have known this was all going pear-shaped for them on Christmas Eve, when after a mad few days, events took on an air of the surreal. In a PR move worthy of Brass Eye, a picture appeared in the Daily Mail of John Terry posing with a black baby. Well that was me convinced, he’s obviously NOT racist then. Chelsea also attempted to gather kudos points by revealing they kyboshed attempts by their players to wear t-shirts in support of the lionhearted one, deeming the plan “inappropriate and unhelpful”.

The first sign that anyone connected to LFC was uncomfortable with the stance the club had adopted, came via a Times article penned by respected Scouse journo, Tony Evans. Evans dared to suggest that Liverpool had made grave errors of judgement in their handling of the case and were entirely wrong in attempting to shift focus of the blame onto Evra. Fair play.

Still, it appeared no one thought it wise to brief Dalglish on this development. The FA subsequently published their detailed, 115 page report on the case. In response, Liverpool issued a holding statement – vowing to “digest and properly consider” the content before making further comment.

After 3 days of reflection, LFC and Suárez each released statements that demonstrated their stance hadn’t altered. Whilst deciding not to appeal the ban – Liverpool considered the report to be “highly subjective”, maintained the FA had treated them unfairly and even suggested United had set out to deliberately secure a ban for the player. Suárez meanwhile, showed a similar lack of contrition, instead choosing to remind us how he was “born into a very humble family, in a working class neighbourhood, in a small country” and throwing in a couple of crowd pleasing YNWA’s for good measure.

After the poorly received statements, Dalglish’s press conference following the City game that evening proved simultaneously ludicrous and gripping, upping the ante further and revealing the true extent of the man’s bitterness.

“There’s a lot of things we’d like to say and a lot we could say but we would only get ourselves in trouble. We are not trying to be evasive…well, we are being evasive because we don’t like getting ourselves in trouble. But we know what has gone on. We know what is not in the report and that’s important for us. So without me getting ourselves in trouble, I think that’s it finished.”

No hint of an apology or remorse, just sulky belligerence and a self-pitying refusal to accept that Suárez was out of order. “Wrong place, wrong time”, according to Kenny. Evra, the FA, the 9 week independent investigation, Manchester United…everyone seemed to be in cahoots against Liverpool Football Club.

2 days later and 10 weeks too late, Suárez did, finally, choose to apologise. Well, it was an apology of sorts. A terse, 2 line statement delivered with all the grace and sincerity of a recently admonished pre-schooler. In doing so, he still managed to protest his innocence and pointedly made no reference to any offence that Patrice Evra might have been caused. Class and dignity.

Discussing the case weeks earlier, the question came up ‘imagine the outcry from Liverpool if all of this had been the other way round?’ Say if Javier Hernandez, in a spat with Glen Johnson, had used insulting remarks with racist connotations then sought to discredit Johnson at every opportunity and claim it was all a cultural misunderstanding.

How would we have reacted? Instinct would have led us to defend our boy, wouldn’t it? One would hope that collectively, we (and I’m talking everyone with an interest in Manchester United) might have responded differently. I’m pretty sure the club would have handled things better than Liverpool did, but would United fans have been able to see through the red-tinted specs and accept that a punishment was merited? I seriously doubt it. Most people, I’m certain would have reacted exactly as Liverpool fans had done and blindly followed the party line being dictated by the club. Football supporters are sheep-like by nature, aren’t we?

In true soap-opera fashion, Liverpool were to face the consequences of their handling of the Suárez case within days. 10 minutes to go in an innocuous looking FA Cup tie vs Oldham and 20 year old, Latics player Tom Adeyemi was called a ‘black bastard’ by a single voice on the Kop. After he turned to remonstrate with the perpetrator, the crowd (as they’d been doing throughout the evening) chose that moment to rise as one and re-affirm their support for Suárez. A baying crowd facing a black kid in tears? I’m not deliberately trying to over dramatise things, but this all looked a bit ‘Nuremberg rally’ and made for very uncomfortable viewing.

Of course it was only one dickhead in a crowd of thousands, and noone seriously doubts LFC when they claim to oppose racism and discrimination in all forms. However, due to the timing of the incident, it’s clear the individual concerned had been influenced by the club’s implicit support of Suárez’s conduct towards a black opponent. Even if it was only one supporter, it was one too many. Racism + sheep-like mentality = extremely dodgy terrain. One would hope this provides food for thought when the Liverpool board takes time to reflect on their handling of the Suárez-Evra affair.