Walter Ego
Player Valuation: £30m
At half time of England vs France, England were booed off the pitch. Now, the problem with booing the team off is that whether intended as a show of displeasure aimed at a collective or not, when you boo one you boo them all. So at half time, England fans booed Jordan Henderson, 20 years old and making his debut. They booed Ben Foster. And they booed 21-year-olds Kieran Gibbs and Andy Carroll, both new to the England setup. At half time of a friendly that is supposed to represent one of the greatest moments of their professional lives. What a way to boost confidence and inspire performance. And people wonder why players play for England with heads down.
The sense of entitlement with which England fans now treat their national team has grown to beyond ludicrous proportions. France are no mugs. Despite a poor World Cup in South Africa they still have some of the world’s best players at their disposal (Florent Malouda was once again magnificent). Yet we boo and sneer at our players for having the temerity to be outplayed by some very good players or for going into the dressing room 1-0 down at half time.
From where has this condescendingly conceited, unsupportive terrace attitude emerged? England may wear white shirts, but this is not Real Madrid where scowls and white handkerchiefs accompany anything not deemed near enough to perfection. For all their high demands, Real Madrid’s standards are at least borne out of a glorious history full of dazzling football and even more dazzling silverware.
By contrast, one World Cup aside the history of English football at national level is littered with spectacular failures. Embarrassing defeats and era-defining bungles are far more English – from the brutal exposition of England’s insular complacency by the Magical Magyars of the 1950s to the ruthless savaging by the Ozils and Mullers of 2010. Winning big is the exception, not the norm. Yet still the sense of entitlement and the idea of glory and success as some sort of English birthright persists.
What gives us this right to boo England at every juncture not quite to our taste? “We pay our money, we can act how we like” is the popular reply. Yes we pay our money. But as far as I can tell it is not the players that set ticket prices. Fans find it all too easy to boo players who, as far as the relationship’s dynamic is supposed to work, are there attempting to provide them with entertainment and joy.
Yet when it comes to the truly important matters and the people in the corporate boxes who truly deserve scorn, who truly deserve boos and whose efforts or integrity do genuinely deserve questioning, invariably not a peep is to be heard. In a week in which the great institution that is Sheffield Wednesday lies on a life support machine barely breathing, Sir Dave Richards waltzes casually around Wembley smiling, knighthood under his belt, without so much as a frown in his direction.
That the culture of the ‘average supporter’ in England is changing is becoming increasingly unquestionable. Rising ticket prices have ushered in a different kind of supporter and entertainment is now demanded rather than hoped for. Far be it for me to suggest no-one should boo their team under any circumstances. There are undoubtedly times when player efforts are so wilfully negligent that booing ends up being the only recourse.
But the notion of being so affronted by a slightly below-par performance such as England’s in the first 45 minutes against France that you rise from your seat, crease your face, contort your neck muscles and verbally scorn a team you turned up no less than an hour ago to supposedly offer your support is baffling. It also smacks of a complete disconnect from the reality of what it is to support a team.
They say football reflects the society of which it is part, and that does also help explain the current predicament. Depressingly, booing your team off is now all part of the ‘experience’ at modern top-flight football grounds in England. Arsenal, Chelsea and Spurs fans have all heckled their team off the field in recent weeks – and those are supposed to be the more successful clubs where defeat is an irregular stranger.
Perhaps the culture of our modern society does play a part. In England, reality TV shows like the X-Factor class as our most popular forms of entertainment. We tune in, we judge people, we cheer the ones we like and castigate the ones we don’t, we tune out. Blame culture is everywhere. It is only natural these traits enter our football by osmosis.
The line dividing what is reality TV and what is sport is becoming ever more blurry. Sport is a TV show and everyone wants to be Simon Cowell
The sense of entitlement with which England fans now treat their national team has grown to beyond ludicrous proportions. France are no mugs. Despite a poor World Cup in South Africa they still have some of the world’s best players at their disposal (Florent Malouda was once again magnificent). Yet we boo and sneer at our players for having the temerity to be outplayed by some very good players or for going into the dressing room 1-0 down at half time.
From where has this condescendingly conceited, unsupportive terrace attitude emerged? England may wear white shirts, but this is not Real Madrid where scowls and white handkerchiefs accompany anything not deemed near enough to perfection. For all their high demands, Real Madrid’s standards are at least borne out of a glorious history full of dazzling football and even more dazzling silverware.
By contrast, one World Cup aside the history of English football at national level is littered with spectacular failures. Embarrassing defeats and era-defining bungles are far more English – from the brutal exposition of England’s insular complacency by the Magical Magyars of the 1950s to the ruthless savaging by the Ozils and Mullers of 2010. Winning big is the exception, not the norm. Yet still the sense of entitlement and the idea of glory and success as some sort of English birthright persists.
What gives us this right to boo England at every juncture not quite to our taste? “We pay our money, we can act how we like” is the popular reply. Yes we pay our money. But as far as I can tell it is not the players that set ticket prices. Fans find it all too easy to boo players who, as far as the relationship’s dynamic is supposed to work, are there attempting to provide them with entertainment and joy.
Yet when it comes to the truly important matters and the people in the corporate boxes who truly deserve scorn, who truly deserve boos and whose efforts or integrity do genuinely deserve questioning, invariably not a peep is to be heard. In a week in which the great institution that is Sheffield Wednesday lies on a life support machine barely breathing, Sir Dave Richards waltzes casually around Wembley smiling, knighthood under his belt, without so much as a frown in his direction.
That the culture of the ‘average supporter’ in England is changing is becoming increasingly unquestionable. Rising ticket prices have ushered in a different kind of supporter and entertainment is now demanded rather than hoped for. Far be it for me to suggest no-one should boo their team under any circumstances. There are undoubtedly times when player efforts are so wilfully negligent that booing ends up being the only recourse.
But the notion of being so affronted by a slightly below-par performance such as England’s in the first 45 minutes against France that you rise from your seat, crease your face, contort your neck muscles and verbally scorn a team you turned up no less than an hour ago to supposedly offer your support is baffling. It also smacks of a complete disconnect from the reality of what it is to support a team.
They say football reflects the society of which it is part, and that does also help explain the current predicament. Depressingly, booing your team off is now all part of the ‘experience’ at modern top-flight football grounds in England. Arsenal, Chelsea and Spurs fans have all heckled their team off the field in recent weeks – and those are supposed to be the more successful clubs where defeat is an irregular stranger.
Perhaps the culture of our modern society does play a part. In England, reality TV shows like the X-Factor class as our most popular forms of entertainment. We tune in, we judge people, we cheer the ones we like and castigate the ones we don’t, we tune out. Blame culture is everywhere. It is only natural these traits enter our football by osmosis.
The line dividing what is reality TV and what is sport is becoming ever more blurry. Sport is a TV show and everyone wants to be Simon Cowell
