- Jul 7, 2003
- 47,630
Yep...50+ years of watching football and I can remember all too clearly the mood swing in football around the late 60's.Before then, adults would look out for kids and ensure they were ushered to the front, so they could see. Men would be respectful of women in the crowd. All that changed and it became a free for all. Football became more ugly, more violent, more selfish. Run with the pack or take your chance. It was a hairy ride, never knowing when the next outburst of fighting would occur and whether you would be caught up in it. Language became more coarser, more racist, more public.The humorous wag gave way to the foul mouthed yob.
Years and years of ugliness and decay and complacency and then deaths.Multiple deaths. And then, finally, action. The game appeared to clean itself up. Families were attracted back. Many more women started coming back into football and attending games felt more comfortable. Has it eradicated ignorance and bad behaviour? No. Will it ever? No. An away day at football, within a certain radius, has always attracted a particular type of fan. You can spot them a mile off. They wear their ignorance like a badge of honour. You see them lurching through the turnstiles, with a glazed look in their eyes. They emerge on the concourse, like a fawn being born, slightly unsure of their legs. They spot the long queues for drinks, swear profusely and then stagger off to the loos. After relieving themselves of about 2 litres of fluid and not washing their hands, they set about the main task of getting another drink. This involves 4-5 of them, fidgetting, swearing and then, eventually leering at the 17 year old kiosk operator, whilst ordering copious quantities of alcohol, much of which is spilt, before it reaches the mouth. They don't really bother much about where they are sitting. They reach high up the stand about 5 minutes after kick off, spilling enough food to feed a third world village. They last 15 minutes more into the game before their bladders can take no more and then its back down to the loos again, unsettling everyone around them. Now comes the dilemma. They are back down on the concourse, near the bars and haven't a clue what is going on in the game. They don't really care what is going on, so they have another drink. After much tooing and froing, conscience finally gets the better of them ( they realise they have spent £25 on a ticket and better see what all the fuss is about ) and rather reluctantly and resentfully, they take up their seats again for the second half on or around the 52nd minute. The next 15 minutes is spent extolling the virtues of the chest dimensions of the young lady who served them copious quantities of alcohol, various repetitions of their informed take on the game, such as..." This is crap "..." I've never been so facking bored in my life "....and " How much longer are we gonna watch this shite for? " They are desperate for the opposition to go ahead, so they can vent the most unbelievable bile at BHA. Two down is even better. Cue exit and a bee-line for the first available watering hole near the ground. Much much later that same day, they are all asleep on the train home. One finally stirs and then another. He looks at him semi-glazed and sleepily and says..." any idea how United got on ? "
All quite accurate, apart from you missed the moment(s) when they strike up a tedious chorus of "[insert name of town] is a shithole, I wanna go home", zzzzzzz. Occasionally interspersed with the equally unfunny "your support is ****ing shit" or "worst support we've ever seen" etc.