Sunday Sermon

One issue that raised it’s nit laden, dandruff encrusted head yesterday was that of support. Specifically those who were ‘true’ fans, those who were ‘real fans’.

There is a certain type of individual that always unsolicited feels the need to make such distinctions. This type of individual usually has something missing in their own life. Usually oxygen. Sadly they’ve just enough to keep them in a drifting half existence, but not quite enough to allow the sticky toffee pudding like matter they refer to as their ‘brain’ to function at an anyway near an efficient level.

Let’s not get into defending the abused, but who the abusers think they are actually talking about. Their fantasy revolves around the premise that there are characters weaker than they are. Less committed, less efficient with their contribution, less of a man or woman than they. Heh, their premise smacks of National Socialism for a reason.

It’s my experience that fans who don’t live ‘up the road from the ground’, don’t hold season tickets are amongst the most passionate, articulate and interesting. Having been at this game for a few weeks now I have a working knowledge of of other bloggers and website people out there. The best work is done by those who do not claim to be ‘true’ fans, but just support in their own way.

So how a man in Germany, Ireland, Barbados or The USA who doesn’t get to games is somehow less of a fan than someone who goes home and away and most cup games is beyond me. Sorry, but was I in an undiagnosed coma when someone concocted a points scoring system to weed out the folks they viewed as weak and promote  themselves the strong?

‘True’ fans are always bores. I’ve thankfully never knowingly stood in the same room as one, but I would imagine them to be shorter than average, in need of a haircut and not that fussed about their general appearance (‘I’m not that fussed about clothes, I just use them for getting from A to B’ – Fry & Laurie).

Freedom of expression is a wonderful thing. Sometimes one man’s delight is another man’s cue to self harm, but what makes my heart sink is the notion that an opinion is devalued if it comes from someone who somehow isn’t qualified to have one just because they watched a game on a telly rather than a seat in the Paxton.

With the exception of a few folk who are upfront about their whereabouts  – outside of heavily moderated forums –  fans are frequently hesitant to mention that they are in Egypt less halfway through a debate on Lennon’s pubic artwork a booming’ what would you know about it anyway?’ is hurled at them.

The Stratford debate highlighted this. In truth it did serve to reveal the quality of some of the Anti Stratford support. As soon as anyone who couldn’t prove they lived within the M25 was suspected at joining the debate they were sneered at.

Got a season ticket? Go to lots of games? Well done you. I went to the toilet this morning and managed not to fall in. Now it’s your turn to tell us something interesting.