Football in the public eye

Why is football now being used as a media tool to generate awareness of events unrelated to football?

Black armbands, minutes silences, minutes applause, and this is still just in its infancy. Yesterday set a precedent with Z-Cars blasting out of Anfields PA system for the death of little Rhys Jones. Now, who’s to argue against this? Of course it’s a totally tragic and unwarranted death, but the fact that he was an Everton fan doesn’t mean that the death should be highlighted at a football ground. I mean, isn’t the whole comedy factor from the blue shite ‘spot the scouser on the kop’? So, therefore cut the crap about scousers all standing together.

And then we have the quilts who think it’s ok to attribute worth to life. There are plenty of other children dying in tragic circumstances. Does a 6 year old drowning in a swimming pool have any less grief associated with it than a youngster accidentally gunned down? Then we have those who say age is a determining factor.

Well, I seem to remember 31st August 1997, the games being called off (LFC v Newcastle, which pissed me off) because of the death of one Diana. Again, media fuelled – are we know saying the size of the gesture places a pecking order on someone’s worth or right to be remembered? Or class, or time of death, or any of these insignificant details. How about we just bow down to what media and journalists want and dictate. It’s a little bit running man/rollerball for my tastes in terms of power of media. And they have everyone right where they want them, make any sort of noise or ask any sort of question to relevance and you’re shouted down by the sheep who say it’s a good idea, show some respect – they must be laughing their balls off.

Then we have the holier than thou brigade, who say a club like Liverpool should be seen to be doing this, fucking big pat on my back please for being such a loyal true fan of football.

Where was all this for Ken Bigley? National coverage again, dying in horrific circumstances and such an ambassador for Liverpool and England, his 17 year old son dying in an RTA tragically and giving away free electricity to neighbours in Baghdad. Worthy of rememberance or not?

I don’t know about anyone else, but all this just makes me uncomfortable. For example, against Charlton, Anthony Walkers parents came onto the pitch. To remember their son, who was killed as a victim of racial hatred and was an Arsenal fan. How many people heard YNWA at Highbury? Why were people asked to wear Arsenal shirts to a funeral, another idea no doubt suggested by an advisor to make the story more compelling, and to provide images worth broadcasting, to pull at Britains heartstrings which are becoming more taut.

Bottom line is, there’s a difference between deaths as a result of football (96, 39, 21), and there’s a difference between bringing tragedies into football to get recognition or a profile raise.

And to all you true feeling reds, why didn’t any of you ask where the black armbands where after the Sunderland game or start a letter/email to the club beforehand requesting their wearing at the game.

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Drink and drugs at the games

Well, Chelsea game is nearly upon us and I did eventually get a ticket from a scouser who sorted fellow brethren out. You wouldn’t mind if these people who were going were actually bothered about the game, but these are the same fans who get sorted by their ‘coroprate contacts’, or only go the match if they don’t have to make an effort to get their own tickets.

You know the ones who meet outside the ground, complete with replica kit with ‘God, 9’ on their back and liverpool tattoos on their arm, all on their annual viist to Anfield. Only arsed about going if a ticket is handed to them – fuck sitting on online sales since 6:00am pressing refresh, or sitting on phones in work scared in case your boss runs through the month end phone bill or comes in the office to hear you booking a ticket for the match.

And the mulling around the local bars with pissed up tourists, you know the group of Scandinavians who sit at the back of the pub singing one line of one song over and over again. Singing Luis Garcia, he drinks Sangria…..fucking 67 times – you’d think they have the decency to learn the right words…..!!!! :@

Let’s get one thing straight, there is a difference between having a few scoops with your mates before the game and talking about the football, but this is not what happens anymore. People fit the football in between their ‘Hollyoaks’ lifestyle, stumbling from the boozers with 15 minutes to go, eyes like piss holes in the snow barely able to focus, and you ask what is the fucking point? But hey, let’s stand on the kop and spark up a joint as well ‘cos I’m well ‘ard me mate. Which then asks the question, how are they going to enforce a smoking ban, when people have been actively smoking weed, just in front of the adult/child section with no reprimand.

They don’t see the game, and would be better to stay in the bar and carry on with their ‘session’, occassionally going the toilets to have a ‘pick me up’ line of beak off the rancid radiators or bog cistern. If you don’t think it goes on either, you’re already in the camp labelled ‘naive’. What is it straight after the game? Back to the local for a discussion about the game and euphoric or disappointment feelings? Is it fuck, straight in the bar, 3 pints please, quick pick-me-up after sitting for two hours through that shite, then talk about getting taxis into town with a bunch of wools or OOT’s to complete the magical experience and go down places like Slater Street, where you can fit right in with other posing beauts.

And that’s why Athens was such a fucking disgrace, tanked up beauts, stoned or hyped up on ‘bags of brown’, causing violence and shit. All the bandwagon jumpers since 2001 and then 2005. And yes, I’m including the stay away locals since 1996 in that as well, who decided to come out the woodwork and think they should automatically go the final because it’s their local club, despite cutting their connection years ago.

However, being a local I can fully understand why you wanted to stay away in the first place. Not wanting to sit next to some whoppa called Chelsea or Lewis in the actual stadium, with their Bulgaria flag and red perm comedy wigs. Instead, stay with your mates in the pub who couldn’t get a ticket even though they were stood next to you on the Kop during Souness when all these soccer am blurts where appreciating the Mancs midfield and drooling over them instead.

If you want to get totally loaded and do glamour drugs, so you feel like a ‘Hollyoaks’ or ‘Shameless’ lifestyle, then do it – just don’t waste a ticket for a proper fan who will appreciate it more.

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It starts

So why am I here? It appears the only safe place you can actually say what you want without fear of upsetting some P.C arsehole is to get your own blog these days. Forums moderated by what appear 14 year olds, whose administrators get chummy with a few of the regulars and let them say what they want, and if you dare fucking challenge then that’s it perma-ban. Piss me off the blurts.

Anyway, how did it all start? Well after attending all the games last season at Anfield. After another prestige final in Athens – we have more tourists wanting to bask in the famous old atmosphere which they do not contribute to. I have a ticket for the game at Chelsea now, but it sickens me to see the amount of daytrippers, tourists and wools all asking on sites the same stupid questions.

How do I know if I’ve been successfull with a postal?
What time do the the credit card lines open?
Is MW any good?
I’m on row 34 – is the view okay?
Am I allowed to wear a jester hat?
What pub should I go to before the game?

Disgusts me. Add to the equation things like:

It’s my first game tomorrow, my mate got me tickets (against Category A opposition, for the FIRST home game of the season mind) ;

And is it any reason why people get so worked up about the stupid ticketing and bandwagon, gloryhunting beauts? And yet, it’s taboo to mention any of this or ask questions like where the fuck where they during the bad times, and then I get an insta-ban from the site for responding to these quegs trying to bait me – fair?? This was deleted as well:

I’ll make my way, as always before
to Anfield on Sunday for kickoff at four
Cos fuck you all, I got a ticket
Spare a thought for the wool, How did he know I’d nick it?

Standing aloof, I’ll look through the stands
At the millions of tourists with scarves in their hands
Leaning back and exerting their voice
Hallelujah, It’s Fowler – let’s fucking rejoice!!!

Hang on – It never used to be like this
When the rivers ran yellow, and the Kop stank of piss
We embraced and as one we swayed
Look at the fuckers the media has made

the fans of the internet and 3 minute clips
gobbling your rollovers complete wit chips
Too pissed up to take in the game
shaking my head, it just isn’t the same

I look at Tarquin, the 3 year fan
out for a daytrip with grandad and nan
And I think of the tickets, taken from guys
who watched through the lows and not just the highs

And then I hear wools bleating into the air
About 300 miles and no money to spare
About what the club would be without their support
About the type of fan they are, or rather the being they purport

Leaving the ground 10 minutes before the ending
to carry on where you left off, and finish your bending
because I was right – it was never about the game
You came out to pose – your mates did the same.

As I start to make my own way home
In front of Mackenzie and a beaut called Jerome
I think of my mates, and how they stay away
Because it’s different now – yea know match day

Point proven this morning with Derby anyway, much easier to get tickets as it’s not glamourous opponents and the wools can’t be arsed coming to Anfield, so they can lay down their fucking comedy red perm wigs and not badger the locals to take pictures of their arms outstretched on the kop with scarf.

The ones who announce you’re sitting in their seat, when it’s blatantly obvious the empty seat in front of you is theirs, and they can’t fucking count rows. Then they climb over you scoffing their rollovers and guzzling their chips, sit themselves down and pull out the latest Nokia and watch the match through a fucking 1 inch viewfinder.

Pretty angry right now, woe betide any St. Helens twat who drives like a blurt on the way home, he’ll be eating my cigarette lighter the bastard.

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