Tuesday, June 26, 2007

How red are you?


My recent foray into the piranha filled waters of the MUFC/FCUM debate got me thinking about differing degrees of redness and what constitutes ‘acceptable ways’ of supporting United. Obviously the first question to address, would be ‘acceptable to who?’ Well as the person writing this thing, that would be me of course, sole arbiter of taste and good sense.

There are some reds out there that have serious issues with any of our number who belong to the so-called ‘post -93 crowd’, in other words those who weren’t around for the famine years of the 70’s and 80’s, but who hopped on the United juggernaut when we were steeped in Cantona inspired success. I’ve always felt this was a little harsh on anyone who has the misfortune to actually have been born ‘post-93’, a group who are now entering their teenage years and will always have their redness questioned by the fact that they impertinently chose not to born during the early 70’s. What kind of commitment's that?

Then of course there’s the vexed issue of out of town support. I have to declare an interest here. I was born in Oldham and now live in Bolton. By rights I should have followed the example of the Ginger Prince himself and opted for a life following Latics. Foolishly, I chose instead to follow the example of my United supporting big sister, and as a result had to ensure a good 15 years of pretty barren fare before I saw United lift the title. (And I’m aware that I can hear the tuning up of several worlds tiniest violins by mates who elected to go to Boundary Park).

I’ll admit I’m torn on the out of town debate. Part of me applauds the effort required to slog up to Manchester for a United game and commends the commitment that it demands. I also realise – as alluded to above – that as one born a few miles from an M16 postcode – I’m not really in a position to cast stones. There’s a bloke sat behind me, and every red knows someone similar, who treks from London for every game, whose red credentials couldn’t be questioned, does every Euro away, the lot; making him a far more committed red than I could ever hope to be.

All that said, why can’t I stop myself from bristling everytime I hear another cockney braying about Man U on the tram? Why was I so irritated by the three tits from Sheffield singing ‘We’ve won it two times…’ on the tram before the West Ham game? Why did I despair at Villa Park when a bloke in a United shirt asked me, in a Geordie accent, if that was Liam Gallagher, when Ian Brown trundled by with his kids?

Maybe it’s just bad luck that all these acts of cluelessness were perpetrated by non-Mancs, but it feels like a pattern to me. The fact of the matter is of course that United’s support is just a microcosm of football support at large, and with there being more United fans it means there’s more members of every group, from JCL glory-hunters to those who sport the right trainers, read the right paper, and think the right things.

Which brings me to the question of whether you to have to actually attend matches to consider yourself a red? Some would say that this is an intrinsic part of being a red, but again I’m not so sure. Are those who ditch United because they refuse or are simply unable to fund Glazer’s debt any less red than those for whom money is no object in the Exec boxes? Is the kid I know with severe special needs that lives and breathes United but only gets to go once or twice a season, any less red for that? I make two away games a year at most, and have never done a Euro away; not even the Nou Camp in 99. Does that mean I must relinquish my rights to class myself as a red?

In recent months I’ve been more embarrassed by the antics of some of those who would categorise themselves as proper reds, than I have by the Megastore fodder that we realistically can’t afford to do without. United’s a big family, there’s room for one and all, but please can everyone just promise two things; never to use the words ‘Man U’ and to learn the difference between Liam Gallagher and Ian Brown. Thanks.

PS Yes, I know the pictures a cheap shot. Sorry.

posted by Royton Red @ 12:50 PM 1 comments

Is the soul still one?

I’m on the train home after the West Ham game (heading to Bolton if you’re thinking of questioning my right to mouth off about matters United). The vibes, considering we’ve just been handed the League title, are damp. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe the result of the game, maybe it’s the nature of the corporate stamped, stage-managed presentation ceremony, as far removed from the genuine euphoria at the end of the two forays to Merseyside as you can possibly get. But I never expected winning the league could feel as deflating as this.

I’m flicking listlessly through Red Issue, when the bloke sat opposite me pipes up with, ‘I don’t read that shit anymore,’ He’s a bit pissed, so I don’t really fancy taking him on, but being a courteous sort, I ask why? ‘Too much politics. Too much FC. Fucking traitors.’ He spits out the words – alright initials – FC with maximum scorn, the kind of pure venom you’d expect United fans reserved for the words city, Leeds or Liverpool. ‘They’re still United,’ I offer by way of response. ‘Bollocks!’ is the curt reply. I sense that we’re not going to hit it off and steer the conversation towards a subject that all United fans can agree on, the urgent need to offload Kieran Richardson. I get off at Bolton, and he continues to the Mancunian heartlands of Barrow. And yes I am aware that’s a fine example of a pot having a go at a kettle of mildly darker hue.

I offer this by way of illustration of the current standing of FC and its supporters in the eyes of many of those who stayed behind at Old Trafford. Two years on from the start of the American occupation of OT – with Gill still doing a fine job in the poodle-Blair role, lobbed a juicy bone in the shape of his million pound salary – woe betide any United fan who wades into the treacherous waters of the state of the union between the MUFC/FCUM factions. United We Stand, in print and online, bravely keep the arguments alive, but anyone willing to stick their head over the parapet usually gets it splattered in a hail of vitriol and gob. But here goes anyway.

One problem is that it’s almost impossible to discuss the issue without resorting to emotive language. Those who claim that they ‘stood by’ Big United imply betrayal on the part of those who moved to FC. Those on the other side of the fence who flaunt their greater integrity and purity of soul, do so at great risk of alienating those of us who no matter how much angst it involved, opted to stay at Old Trafford.

Last season saw a digging in and entrenchment on both sides. For Big United fans, it was a season of unexpected glory with United playing utterly peerless football of the sort not seen anywhere else in Europe, never mind in the North-West Counties League Division 2. For many it was a vindication of their decision to stay at Old Trafford, proof that the Glazer regime needn’t inhibit the tradition of swaggering football that’s the true spirit of United. Factor in the close season spending spree, which is certain to see expectations for next season ratcheted to ridiculous levels, and many will no doubt be wondering why we all made a fuss about the Glazers in the first place. Why fret about politics when we’ve got a midfield containing Ronaldo, Scholes, Hargreaves, Nani, Carrick, Giggs, Anderson (and of course Fletcher) to drool over?

The answer comes in the form of the jacked-up prices, handily made public the day after the AC victory, that will see United fans screwed out of more money at the exact moment when other clubs are freezing prices, knowing that the cash deluge from the new TV deal means they’ll still be turning massively inflated profits. On the surface it might not be politics preventing many reds from renewing this summer, but the underlying forces have been put in motion by the Glazers need to manage that mind-boggling level of debt.

Many make the claim that it doesn’t matter who owns the club as ‘they’re all the same anyway’. I refute this in relation to football club owners, just as much as when I hear it applied to politicians – Dennis Skinner and David Cameron are the same are they?. The Glazer’s financed the United deal at little risk to themselves, plunging a once solvent, well managed club into the kind of debt that can never be fully wiped out. And they did so because they assumed that we were mugs, sources of cash that would never question or query their business as long as they kept us distracted by matters on the pitch.

The way that supporters of most other Premiership clubs have rolled over and waved their legs in the air the minute an American sugar-daddy has hoved into view, proves that they have a point, but United fans are different; or some of them are anyway. It’s unrealistic to imagine you’ll ever have a totally politicised, engaged support; there’ll always be a majority indifferent to what some – me amongst them I suppose – would impose as the ‘proper’ way to support United. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep the arguments alive. I sometimes get a sense of some FC fans having a ‘redder than thou’ mentality, but it’s still possible to be an Old Trafford going red without being an apologist for Glazer, just as FC doesn’t constitute some kind of betrayal.

So next season, when Ronaldo’s racing down the wing, and Rooney’s caressing it into the net with the daintiest of touches, remember that it’s still political.

posted by Royton Red @ 10:33 AM 0 comments

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Carry on up the boo camp


This blog’s been derelict for a while now; windows boarded over, weeds cluttering the back yard, nothing going on. In fact, I thought I’d abandoned it for good. Then the other day, while reading a piece about the takeover at the boo camp, I came across the following quote and I knew at once that my mojo was back. Take a second and drink in its majesty:

Kevin Parker, of the Manchester City Official Supporters' Club said: "This is a great opportunity for us. We can start laughing at other people as we rise up the Premiership."

Beautiful isn’t it? Now, I’m sure that Kevin doesn’t speak for all city fans, indeed I’ve read some comments from the more clued-up wing of their support (the ideas of clued up city fans putting the moron in oxymoron of course) and many are uneasy about the prospect of selling out to a man with a dubious human rights record, currently facing corruption charges in his own land, but you’ve got to admire the ridiculous optimism in Kevin’s words.

For a while I thought only a city fan, with their infinite capacity for self-delusion, could be capable of such naïve nonsense, but thinking about it, maybe its symptomatic of what all football fans go through. Don’t we all have a talent for wilful amnesia, erasing the scars and memories of disappointments past as we look forward to the prospect of a trophy-laden future? Then I thought, no, he’s just a typical city knob.

Only supporters of one team could get so giddy about what will inevitably be another farcical chapter in the clubs richly farcical history. But it gets better of course. Like a moment from a Marx brothers film when you think the mayhem and lunacy couldn’t get more frantic, it goes up a notch and become even more hysterical. Who will he appoint as manager? Why, renowned philanderer and tabloid dupe Sven Goran Erikson of course.

Did they learn nothing from the Keegan era? Does the idea of appointing another manager left broken – but in Sven’s case definitely not left broke – by the experience of managing England not give some pause for thought? Clearly not. It could be argued that Sven’s reputation has been unfairly roughed up by the ‘feral beast’ that is the British press. Or indeed that the so-called ‘golden generation’ the he presided over turned out to be more ‘gold-plated’; plating that the press hysterically coated them in, before just as gleefully peeling it off. But it wasn’t the hacks who took Theo Walcott to Germany, or who lacked the tactical nous to salvage any game slipping away from them.

And, to paraphrase Mrs Merton, you have to wonder what Sven sees in the £2 million a year management position at a team who last season scored the fewest goals in Premiership history. It’s just another example of the obscene sums that slosh through the Premiership, which make for the surreal situation of a manager uuming and aahing between city and Juventus. One offers prestige, history, class; the other an absolute shit-load of cash.

It’s been a tough week for city fans all told. The Thaksin stuff came as they were still trying to come to terms with the news that Wayne Rooney would be carrying Ricky Hatton’s belt into the ring in Vegas. Then top blue Bernard Manning snuffed it. Rumours that Rooney is carrying the coffin at the funeral can’t be confirmed as I write. But with optimism like Kevin Parker’s I’m sure that the blues will have the last laugh. Don’t they always?


posted by Royton Red @ 10:01 AM 0 comments