For eveeeer

Football I watched Fever Pitch on Sunday, the British adaptation with Colin Firth. By the end of the film, not know this history I was will Arsenal to win. There is a passion about the piece which I don't see in the modern game (even through my limited experience). So mainly to rattle the cage of at least one of my readers I present Football fans are idiots:
"The atmosphere's become rubbish too. Go to a match 15 or more years ago, and by 2.30pm the terraces would reverberate with a Spector-esque wall of sound. Even if the game was dire, the chants and terrace witticisms would turn it into a spectacle of sorts - albeit one where hooliganism was rife.

These days at home matches, what usually happens? You get to the ground at 2.50pm, just in time to hear a local radio DJ induce a faux-atmosphere by shouting: "Are you ready? I said: Are you ready? Let's make some noise!" Like sheep, the crowd responds, sings one song, and then settles back into silence.

The truth is, you probably only leave your seat only when a goal is scored, five minutes before half-time (to go to the toilet and scoff down a congealed pie in four bites or less) and, 10 minutes before the end "to beat the traffic". And you pay £20, £30 or £40 for this? Every other week?"
In truth I only ever been to one football match in my life, in 1984, Everton against Luton Town, FA Cup semi-final replay. I believe we beat them two-nil. I went with my Dad who reliably informs me that I spent most of the game running backwards and forwards to the toilet. Personally I think I was more fascinated by Goodison Park than the match itself. And so it goes ...

No comments: