Monday 19 May 2014

Ways to enjoy the World Cup (preface)

Sometimes I feel sorry for football, making so much effort to be a genuinely global game of the people, a common sporting tongue, and yet so singularly failing to warm Al's heart.

The 1990s Hornbyisation of football was obviously due a correction, but as in Left politics, just because a few middle class people inevitably get a bit carried away and make fools of themselves is no reason to jettison the whole enterprise. I guess there is the whole issue about feeling socially pressured to be into football, although is that really, really a thing? Would be very interested to hear people's lived experiences on that, I suspect it's overblown but happy to be corrected.




My own pet theory (which quite possibly falls under the category of "middle class people getting a bit carried away") is that some educated, cultured, middle class people struggle with football because, contra Al's last post, it doesn't really offer much of a mirror to one's self in the way that books, films and foreign box sets might. We try to develop narratives around football players, teams, managers etc because that's what humans do, and we can often pull it off, but the football itself is not trying to reach you emotionally or intellectually, to show you something of yourself (you beautiful, complex individual), in the way that a novel does. It is poor fuel for the ego, in other words, not much use for self-actualisation. Just look at attempts to eke social distinction out of football: any more than "moderate" footie knowledge or team loyalty offers rapidly diminishing returns (I think).

If you'll allow me to go completely overboard, I would say that this is the beauty of football: it provides an arena in which you can come closer to negating the self by dissolving into the crowd. Not just today's crowd, but a century of crowds before you, up and down the country, across Europe in fact, any settlement larger than a hamlet fielding a team, kicking off at three o'clock, men in flat caps, jumpers for goal posts etc etc.


There are experts who can decipher a game of football like a text - part of the mesmerising effect of football is that there are underlying patterns to the seeming chaos that only reveal themselves after you've watched quite a lot of it (it took me about ten years of football viewing to realise that, rather than just keeping your eyes on the ball, you should always be trying to identify the potential passing options of the player in possession). But I don't think that this is the point of the exercise for the casual fan, anymore than being able to give credible tasting notes is the point of drinking beer. It's a space where you can vacate yourself and just join in for the sake of joining in, to empty yourself out temporarily and become a vessel of something bigger, something communal. The fact that the big, communal thing to which you are submitting yourself is totally pointless makes it even better - a colourful, harmless religion.

Best of all, this vacation of self carries on after the match. A footie conversation with a taxi driver / random bloke in the pub / office security guard where you both just spout the conventional wisdom, barely taking your brain out of first gear - what a beautiful thing!

Anyway I have some suggestions on how non-football fans can enjoy the World Cup (a tournament designed for non-football fans), but I've gone on too long so I'll do it as a separate post.

4 comments:

Alistair Johnston said...

I don't feel much pressure to be a standard supporter. I do feel a little pressure to be a football hipster, something I try and resist.

It'd be terribly easy for me to adopt that persona. Read the right books, and journalists, pick up the right vintage shirts, follow foreign leagues. I wouldn't even need to watch any matches! It's ready made for me.

However… with you and Marty your football hipsterism is a natural and positive extension of your love of football. You are (becoming?) connoisseurs of the game. For me it would be a pose. An affect. A way of distinguishing myself. I've fallen into this trap often enough (I'm not sure I really like music much); it's not something I like about myself.

I made the decision a while back that I didn't give a shit about wine and would stop feeling like I "should". Fuck wine - it does the job, and that's all I want from it.

I can definitely see the allure of community and losing yourself and being in a crowd. I half-hope that happens with me and Bradford, though the signs so far aren't good: Wayne (a Coventry supporter) and I were all primed to go see Bradford-Coventry but we couldn't bring ourself to leave the pub. The match ended 4-4.

Alistair Johnston said...

"the football itself is not trying to reach you emotionally or intellectually, to show you something of yourself (you beautiful, complex individual), in the way that a novel does. It is poor fuel for the ego, in other words, not much use for self-actualisation. "

This is interesting, but I don't think it's my problem. Have also realised recently that I don't like going to gigs, or, indeed, the theatre. Something about things playing out live doesn't agree with me.

oliver said...

yes sorry I was being cheeky there, setting you up as a sort of straw man.

The ideal football supporter for me is not the football hipster or the modern standard supporter, but the old fashioned dads who just drag their kids along with their mates, vaguely watch the match from the terraces, eat a pie at half time, talk a lot of shit and laugh when players fall over. This might be because I only properly got into football through non-league. That's a really nice day out, no-one can even pretend that they care *that* much, it's just football as a nice backdrop to your life. I guess they are all being priced out of big football.

I have the same thing with gigs, I wonder if it is A) age B) attention span murdered by iphones. They always seem a little too long. Same with live football, to be honest.

Alistair Johnston said...

That's my favourite kind of supporter too, where it's all about the crowd and the game's an excuse. The Danny Baker brigade.

Thing is, it's a hard one to break into. You need to have gone for years, or have a group you can go with. That needs to be my Bradford ambition.