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.
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:
This is good. Can we have a new post please....
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