Sports Tourists

Fucking boss point raised the other day by someone on the official forums about plastic fans like. Got the ole cogs in me swede turning.Sports tourists appear in every sport, it’s just that they appear more in football, and it is raised as an issue in football because it’s entirely tribal and passionate. Things like rugby, tennis and cricket all draw different types of fan. These sports are used to seeing daytrippers and tourists turn up for maybe one annual event and make a big party of it with the sports secondary. Things like Henman Hill, having a conga during the Ashes and chatting about life with a few other snobby rugby fans looking down on football.

Football is someone’s life as the great man once said, so don’t come with your parade of nobhead mates and girlfriends who have no clue about what this club is about or have no interest in keeping the traditions and reputation alive.
You all know exactly who I’m talking about as well, the fans who only pay attention to Henman at Wimbledon, the fans who only started to watch Rugby when England won the World Cup, and now have switched allegiance to watch the Irish or Welsh, the cricket bandwagon jumpers who ‘watch’ the Ashes and even worse the golf nobs who see players like Justin Rose and suddenly watch every major tournament. Basically they tune into the big games without showing any interest in the smaller tournaments or games, just like they turn up to Anfield for Liverpool v Arsenal/Chelsea/Everton in their jester hats and whoppa ghoulashes, scoffing their packed lunches and stuff. Can these fat bastards seriously not go without food for 2 hours?

So is it any wonder when hardened, pure blooded fans get angry? You’re ruining football and turning into another generic friendly day out. If it’s not about the football don’t bother lads.

Subscribe to this blog

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.

Subscribe to this blog

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.

Subscribe to this blog