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Football Miserablism Before I ever did geography at school I wanted to know where Leipzig was on a map. Names like Lokomotiv, Spartak, Dynamo – they were poetry. For some reason I have always been attracted to the dark sinister teams of Central and Eastern Europe; I’ve also taken a keen interest in the leagues of Holland and Germany. There are at least four German soccer teams I take an interest in, and of my all time favourite players, several are German – Netzer, Breitner, Rummenigge, and Littbarski. The Ajax team of the seventies was one of the greatest I’ve seen, and though it sometimes depresses me to think it, at least I’m old enough to have seen many of these players in the flesh.
Brazilian flair – not interested. Argentinian flamboyance – couldn’t care less. What I appreciate is ruthless efficiency and unbridled enthusiasm. Perhaps it’s my grounding in the New Wave – I’d much rather listen to Wire, or The Fall, than to jazz or noodly guitar solos.
The First Game I Ever Went To It must have been around 1968 or ’69. I remember crawling through the mud under a fence Leigh Park I still support that team, Leigh Park United. For a while they became Havant Town, then they merged with another local team I used to watch – to become Havant and Waterlooville FC. My mates Clive and Ade still go and watch them every week, and keep me in touch with events. I learnt football in Leigh Park. I don’t mean how to play football, but football lore. A guy in the council flats showed me his scrapbooks, and even though they were of Manchester United players, I was hooked. I took up with Leicester City (I was born there), and started collecting pictures of LCFC players to put in my own scrapbook. Two older lads, Alan Lenton and John Bailey, had a team, and I started playing with them every evening after school. My Dad bought me used football magazines from a stall at the end of Charlotte Street in Portsmouth. And my Grandfather took me along to Fratton Park to see Pompey play. Pompey Apart from my family, I have probably loved Portsmouth FC longer than anything else in my life. I have spent more time in Fratton Park than in any other building except my parents’ home. I went to my first game in 1969-70 (Cardiff, Carlisle or Blackpool – I can’t remember). That’s thirty two years. Hooliganism I was never a football hooligan, though I really wanted to be. I wanted a Crombie coat, Harrington, monkey boots and a Ben Sherman. I think I liked the thought of it rather than the reality. I was crap at fighting after all. My moment in the sun was being ejected from Fratton Park at the second ever game I went to without my family. It was a League Cup tie against Plymouth. I must have called the referee a wanker. I was grabbed by two big coppers and marched down the concrete steps to the charge room behind the stand. As I was being arrested the whole of the Fratton End started singing “Loyal Supporter!”. A great feeling. I was charged and then thrown out onto the cobbles under the South Stand. I stood around for a while listening to the noise from inside the ground, then wandered back in when they opened the gates.
Leyton Orient I was at University when Steve Spartak first took me to Leyton Orient. It was the year after they were promoted from the Fourth Division. I was due to go on a date with a beautiful Iranian girl after the game, but I got lost in East London, and she never forgave me for arriving late. But hey – how long would that relationship have lasted? Six months max? I’ve been with Leyton Orient for twelve years now, and I’ve been very happy. The National Team The most unpleasant moments I have spent at football matches have normally involved watching the England team. Although I get caught up in the excitement on the rare occasions England make the later stages of a tournament, I follow the fortunes of the Czech Republic, the Netherlands, and yes - Germany, just as much as I follow England results. Australia Football in Australia is a slightly sad affair. To begin with there is little atmosphere. What passion exists seems still to be on a ethnic basis. Croatian run clubs hate Serbian run clubs. Portuguese clubs have intense rivalries with Spanish clubs. There are no African clubs, of course, or indigenous Australian clubs, though there are a few Anglo-Irish (or “non-ethnic” as Australians like to think of them) clubs. An average crowd for a National Soccer League match would be about five thousand. For a while Northern Spirit got attendances in double figures, and tried to create a bit of British style atmosphere. Although I didn’t support them, I enjoyed going along. But they lost a bit too often, and the crowds are now below four thousand. I can’t understand what it is about Australian sports fans that makes them so quiet – why they don’t sing, or shout abuse? They don’t quite seem to have got the point of going to football, which surely isn’t to see your team win. It’s more visceral than that. When I go to see a game here, I prefer to go and see teams in the State League, of which there are summer and winter versions. I like to go down to Lambert Park and watch Leichhardt. They used to be a big club, but have fallen on hard times. I can walk there, and sit amongst the old fellers. There are a few families, but mostly the supporters are Italian migrants from the post-war period. When I take in an NSL game, I’ll watch another Italian team – Marconi Fairfield. Interestingly, despite the ambiguous attitude to soccer in Australia, the country still produces some of the best players in the world. They are well-disciplined, have a will-to-win, and certainly possess the technical skills. But the best ones go abroad to make a living, and perhaps that’s why the game here is so hard to get excited about.
Football Links Fortuna Dusseldorf are sponsored by Die Toten Hosen, and consequently have one of the world's best soccer shirts. St. Pauli Gegen Rechts! - possibly the hippest football club in the world, mainly due to their multi-cultural anti-fascist following. I have to have a team in each league. Dundee FC are my team in Scotland. Thanks Stuart. Cardiff City FC are my team in Wales. They wear blue and white of course. |
to Bohemians, Karl Zeiss Jena, to Dukla Prague, to Honved. I’ve never seen an Italian or Brazilian game, but I have seen a Budapest derby (MTK vs. Ferencvaros), Spartak vs. Slavia at the Strahov, and in Poland I once saw Torun against Arka Gdynia.
where a huge crowd were watching Leigh Park United in the FA Sunday Cup. I squeezed between the adults to get to the front. The pitch was roped off, and I have an impression of a misty Saturday afternoon in winter, with cigarette smoke, damp overcoats, and miserable working class testosterone. I can’t remember who won, or even the colours of the teams. I just remember the atmosphere. It’s the ambience of a football ground in winter, and wherever I go, I hope that it’ll be like that. Now that I live in Australia, where it’s always summer, it never is like that.
Of disappointment mostly. In that time Portsmouth have won promotion three times. And they’ve been relegated three times. So we’re back where we started, and most of the time we’ve sat in the middle of the old Second Division, wondering if this will be our season.
And not only because of the onfield performances of donkeys like Alvin Martin, Peter Withe, Geoff Thomas and David Batty. It's been because of the boneheads that tend to follow England. The sort who raise their arms in salute during the National Anthem. The National Anthem itself - which glorifies a Royal Family I detest. And the tabloid attitude England fans have to 'abroad'.