Fans
Football fans come in many guises. You can identify most by
their characteristic cries. Here are a few you may find yourself
sitting next to.
THE SOCIAL REALIST
‘A lot of pressure at this point in the season? You call this
pressure,
£20,000 to kick a ball about twice a week? This isn’t
pressure, lad. Pressure’s when you’re standing two hundred
feet
above the ground on a six-inch steel beam with no safety harness
and a man chucking white hot rivets up to you, one per
minute. You’re that concentrated on them rivets you never hear
the gale coming and the next thing you know it’s pulling at your
clothing. It’s tugging at you. It’s trying to pull you over
the edge.
It wants to smash your body to pulp on the cold, hard earth . . .
No, that’s pressure, lad. Mind we had some laughs an’ all.’
THE WELL-ROUNDED MAN
‘Well, you know the quality of light in Valencia is extraordinary,
it’s almost as if the very air is alive – GET STUCK IN
BROWN, YOU FANNY MERCHANT – I think it’s something
to do with flat landscapes and water because, and this will
sound funny – WHERE’S YOUR FLAG, LINESMAN,
WEDGED UP YOUR ARSE? – the only other place I’ve
encountered anything like it was on the salt marshes near
Holkham. It was early evening, a thunderstorm was brewing
and it gave this amazing golden tinge to everything that was
positively ethereal – JESUS CHRIST, WILKO, YOU BLIND
BANDY-LEGGED POOF – and really quite enchanting.’
MR HANDS FREE
‘Can you hear us? Where are you? West Stand? I’m in the
North Stand. Top left, about three rows down. Can you see us?
I’m wearing that Hackett sweatshirt. Can you see us? I’m
waving. Can you see us now? I’m stood on my seat waving both
arms. Can you see us now? I’m jumping up and down on the
seat and waving both arms. Can you see us now? I’m in the
North Stand, top left, wearing a Hackett sweatshirt, I’m waving
both arms and two stewards are escorting me down the steps.
Can you . . . Bollocks, the signal’s gone . . .’
CORRECTIONS AND CLARIFICATIONS
‘Actually, mate, I think you’ll find it’s four defeats
in six matches
not five. Actually, the goal difference is currently minus-seven,
which is actually one better than United’s. Actually he wasn’t
playing at right back in that game because Ouija was injured
and Séance was suspended, so actually he was utilised on the
left of central midfield. Actually he was signed for £1.78 million
not £1.77 million. Actually he’s Moldovan not Russian.
Actually my parents were married when I was conceived.
Actually I think you’ll find they use butterfly grips to seal a
cut
like this not stitches.’
THE EXPLAINER
‘No, Jake, he looked as if he were offside, but he wasn’t
because
he was inactive. It means not active. Yes, I know he was running,
but I don’t mean active in that sense.Well, I mean active
in the sense of being active in a football sense, obviously. Look,
let’s say my glove is the player with the ball and my mobile is
the ball, then . . . Give me your Mars Bar a minute. I’m not
going to eat it. No, I promise.Well, clearly. All right, then: YES,
I promise. Satisfied? Look, just give it me, will you. We didn’t
come here for chocolate. We came here for football. Well, if
that’s your attitude, young man . . . So, look, the glove slots
the
mobile through to the Mars and this programme is the
defender and . . . Was that a goal? Who scored it? Oh, for
Heaven’s sake, here’s your bloody Mars Bar.’
THE PENITENT
‘It’s never been the same since they abolished the maximum
wage . . . I don’t know what they’re cheering that for he’s
barely
struck it from thirty-five yards . . .They wouldn’t be singing
his
name if they’d seen George Gizzard play . . . Bertram Chunk,
now he was a footballer . . . He’s not fit to lace Goddard
Stump’s rupture appliance, yon fella . . . Oh, give him a jelly,
referee . . . When you think of how Cliff Triffid carried on battling
away in midfield even though he was in an iron lung they
make you laugh this lot . . . They’re all pathetic . . . All right,
I’ve suffered enough. I’m off. See you in a fortnight . .
.’
SEEING THE BIGGER PICTURE
‘Well, it’s very tight, isn’t it? I mean, we’re
fourteenth, but if we
lose by two clear goals today, Wanderers and City don’t get
beat, United pick up the points at home, and one of the bottom
three scrape a win, then suddenly we’re in the drop zone.
Whereas if we can avoid defeat, Town get gubbed away and
any of the front-runners stumble, then suddenly we’re just a
couple of results away from the play-offs. Mind you, there’s no
guarantee that Athletic won’t pull something out of the hat
away in the Midlands and then it only takes City to pick up
maximum points, Wanderers to score twice and not lose
and . . . did we just score? That’s good because if it stays like
this and the result at East Road goes our way . . .’
THE CHOIRMASTER
‘BLUE ARMY. BLUE ARmy. Come on, join in! What’s the
matter with ya? Let’s get behind the team. QUE SERA
SERA . . . Christ! Where’s your passion? You might as well be
sat at home watching Neighbours. THE REFEREE’S A
WANKER. I’m glad I’m not in this section every week. I’ve
had more fun at a funeral. HIT HIM ON THE HEAD. HIT
HIM ON THE Oh what’s the bloody point? You’re all middle
class, you lot.’
THE WALKMAN RELAY STATION
‘SMITHY LOOKS ON FIRE, DOESN’T HE? WHAT?
WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU. ALAN GREEN’S
YELLING. YEAH. HANG ON. PENALTY AT ST
JAMES’S. SHEARER TO TAKE IT. HAHAHAHAHAHA,
WANKER . . . ROVERS 2–0 UP. PARDON? I’VE GOT
THESE ON, YOU’LL HAVE TO SHOUT. THERE’S A
GOAL AT GOODISON. SMITHY GOT IT. WHAT?
WELL, HOW COME YOU KNOW ALREADY? OH,
RIGHT, SO WE ARE . . . SENDING OFF AT PORTMAN
ROAD . . .’
THE INSPECTOR
‘Sit down, I can’t see . . . Sit down . . . I said, Sit down
. . .
You’re not sitting, you’re crouching . . . Sit down . . .
Because I
didn’t pay £30 to stand . . . Every week the same thing .
. . Sit
down . . .Oh, right, and what about the fella behind me? What
if he doesn’t want to stand? He’s a war veteran, you know
. . .
Sit down . . .You paid for that seat. Now put your arse on it . . .
Sit down . . . Right, I’m off . . . What do you mean, “Sit
down”? . . . I know there’s five minutes left, pal . . . Because
if I
nip away now I’ll not get stuck in traffic . . . Sit down your
bloody self . . .Well, I’m sorry if you missed a goal but if you’d
just let me out instead of arguing . . .’
THE SIMPLE PLANNER
‘Where’s our width, eh? Where’s our width? Look! Look!
Stood
there in the middle like a bunch of grapes. WHAT ARE YOU
DOING, HAVING A GOSSIP? GET IT WIDE! No one on
the wing again! They’re not going to waltz through the centre
of this defence, are they? USE THE FLANKS, UNITED!
Look at this pitch. Forty-three games on it and there’s hardly
a
stud mark down either touchline. SPREAD IT! Look! Look!
Acres of space, acres and we’re all clustered round the centre
spot. ARE YOU AGORAPHOBIC OR WHAT? WHERE’S
OUR WIDTH?’
