Tooting Gull
Well-known member
- Jul 5, 2003
- 11,033
My fellow Brighton fans: I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors.
I’d like to thank Bill Archer for his service to our club, as well as the generosity and co-operation he showed, but that is not possible. How could such a clown get to the top of anything.
These words have been spoken during promotions and championships. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds, raging storms, and a relegation dog-fight.
At these moments, Brighton have carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office – that’s a laugh - but because the fans have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents. So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Brightonians.
That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our club has been at war, against a far-reaching network of village hatred. Our finances are badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the club for a new age. Managers have been lost; players shed; fans disillusioned. Our wage bill is too big; our academy players don't kick on; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we find to f**k it all up give Palace a right laugh.
These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence throughout the club - a nagging fear that Brighton’s decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights. Some of this is to do with Micky’s bizarre tactics this season, I really didn’t see that coming.
Today I say to you that the challenges we face in staying out of League Two are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time, not even by Martin Perry who does most of it round here. But know this, fellow Seagulls - they will be met.
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord, 'Good Old Sussex by the Sea' over 'You Don't Know What You're Doing'. On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, moaning about players out of position and priority for Cup tickets, that for far too long have strangled our hopes.
The time has come to set aside childish things, apart from the mascot idea which has always been a winner, and Gully’s Girls. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free - to go and watch Charlton if things get much worse - and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.
In reaffirming the greatness of our club, we understand that greatness is never a given. No one has a right to be in the Premier League, or even the Championship. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted - for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame and the Champions League.
Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things - some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labour, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom. People like Fatboy Slim, Des Lynam, Paul Samrah, Attila, and Lord B – although I better not name too many more, or the others will get jealous.
Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life, and actually get to sit in a stadium that wasn’t a total embarrassment, had a roof and some atmosphere. They saw Brighton as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of TV money.
This is the journey we continue today. But our time of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions - that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking Brighton.
For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the team calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act - not only to finally get some loan players in, but to build a team that could actually stay up.
Now, there are some cynics who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that such a tinpot little outfit cannot tolerate too many big plans, that we’ll never fill Falmer, and that I am potless. And let’s face it, the Wilkins thing just isn’t going away.
Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this club has already done; what free men can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage. Remember ‘83. Or Cullip against Cheaterfield. Marvellous scenes. I got us back to Brighton. Even Micky used to be good.
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our club is too big or too small, but whether it works.
Whether the manager is taking the team forward, whether the players are good enough and trying hard enough, whether we can play them in the right positions, or develop some sort of ticketing system that can cope with a rare big home Cup match.
Those of us who manage the club’s finances will be held to account - to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day - because only then can we restore the vital trust between fans and their board of directors.
Nor is the question before us whether top-flight football, which as we all know is light years off, is a force for good or ill. The Premier League’s power to generate wealth is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, football can spin out of control - and that the game cannot prosper long when it favours only the prosperous.
The success of our club has always depended not just on how much we spend on the big-money signings, or how many of those two-part season DVDs we sell, but our place in the community.
I reject - finally, it’s taken me a while - as false the choice between either getting the stadium built, or investing in the squad, although I may have to loosen the reins and let someone with some money come in and help us out. We will not give up the ideals of our founding fathers, or legends like Wardy, Nobby and Bobby.
And so to all other clubs and supporters, know that Brighton is a friend of each club and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and wants to make some scarves with two club names on them - and that we are ready to lead once more.
Recall that earlier generations faced down adversity with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They rumbled Archer and Bellotti, organised all the protests, went to bloody Gillingham for two years, and sat in monsoons for more than 10 years in the South Stand at Withdean.
We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort - even greater cooperation and understanding. We will work tirelessly and to our enemies we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.
For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a club of factions. Knight in/out, Micky in/out, that sort of thing. Because we have tasted the bitter pill of nearly going out of the league and out of business, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; even Ernest will have a poster of me on his wall.
As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Brighton fans who, at this very hour, patrol the local streets for litter.
We honour them not only because they are guardians of our council licence, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves, even if they are a shoo-in for a ticket if we somehow get to Wembley in the Johnstone Paint.
And yet, at this moment - a moment that will define a generation - it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.
God Bless Brighton.
I’d like to thank Bill Archer for his service to our club, as well as the generosity and co-operation he showed, but that is not possible. How could such a clown get to the top of anything.
These words have been spoken during promotions and championships. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds, raging storms, and a relegation dog-fight.
At these moments, Brighton have carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office – that’s a laugh - but because the fans have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents. So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Brightonians.
That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our club has been at war, against a far-reaching network of village hatred. Our finances are badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the club for a new age. Managers have been lost; players shed; fans disillusioned. Our wage bill is too big; our academy players don't kick on; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we find to f**k it all up give Palace a right laugh.
These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence throughout the club - a nagging fear that Brighton’s decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights. Some of this is to do with Micky’s bizarre tactics this season, I really didn’t see that coming.
Today I say to you that the challenges we face in staying out of League Two are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time, not even by Martin Perry who does most of it round here. But know this, fellow Seagulls - they will be met.
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord, 'Good Old Sussex by the Sea' over 'You Don't Know What You're Doing'. On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, moaning about players out of position and priority for Cup tickets, that for far too long have strangled our hopes.
The time has come to set aside childish things, apart from the mascot idea which has always been a winner, and Gully’s Girls. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free - to go and watch Charlton if things get much worse - and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.
In reaffirming the greatness of our club, we understand that greatness is never a given. No one has a right to be in the Premier League, or even the Championship. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted - for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame and the Champions League.
Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things - some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labour, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom. People like Fatboy Slim, Des Lynam, Paul Samrah, Attila, and Lord B – although I better not name too many more, or the others will get jealous.
Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life, and actually get to sit in a stadium that wasn’t a total embarrassment, had a roof and some atmosphere. They saw Brighton as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of TV money.
This is the journey we continue today. But our time of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions - that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking Brighton.
For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the team calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act - not only to finally get some loan players in, but to build a team that could actually stay up.
Now, there are some cynics who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that such a tinpot little outfit cannot tolerate too many big plans, that we’ll never fill Falmer, and that I am potless. And let’s face it, the Wilkins thing just isn’t going away.
Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this club has already done; what free men can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage. Remember ‘83. Or Cullip against Cheaterfield. Marvellous scenes. I got us back to Brighton. Even Micky used to be good.
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our club is too big or too small, but whether it works.
Whether the manager is taking the team forward, whether the players are good enough and trying hard enough, whether we can play them in the right positions, or develop some sort of ticketing system that can cope with a rare big home Cup match.
Those of us who manage the club’s finances will be held to account - to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day - because only then can we restore the vital trust between fans and their board of directors.
Nor is the question before us whether top-flight football, which as we all know is light years off, is a force for good or ill. The Premier League’s power to generate wealth is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, football can spin out of control - and that the game cannot prosper long when it favours only the prosperous.
The success of our club has always depended not just on how much we spend on the big-money signings, or how many of those two-part season DVDs we sell, but our place in the community.
I reject - finally, it’s taken me a while - as false the choice between either getting the stadium built, or investing in the squad, although I may have to loosen the reins and let someone with some money come in and help us out. We will not give up the ideals of our founding fathers, or legends like Wardy, Nobby and Bobby.
And so to all other clubs and supporters, know that Brighton is a friend of each club and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and wants to make some scarves with two club names on them - and that we are ready to lead once more.
Recall that earlier generations faced down adversity with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They rumbled Archer and Bellotti, organised all the protests, went to bloody Gillingham for two years, and sat in monsoons for more than 10 years in the South Stand at Withdean.
We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort - even greater cooperation and understanding. We will work tirelessly and to our enemies we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.
For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a club of factions. Knight in/out, Micky in/out, that sort of thing. Because we have tasted the bitter pill of nearly going out of the league and out of business, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; even Ernest will have a poster of me on his wall.
As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Brighton fans who, at this very hour, patrol the local streets for litter.
We honour them not only because they are guardians of our council licence, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves, even if they are a shoo-in for a ticket if we somehow get to Wembley in the Johnstone Paint.
And yet, at this moment - a moment that will define a generation - it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.
God Bless Brighton.
brilliant.
very nicely done
