Then Saturday Comes… the half decent football blog

You can keep your Champion’s League football, I’m sorted for E’s and Whizz
April 2, 2010, 3:30 pm
Filed under: Mat Reville's Football Blog | Tags:

Sky Sports cameras outside the Premiership’s top grounds have shown us two things; how homogenous each Top Four team’s fans are, and how devoid of enjoyment they seem to be. With Chelsea morons joining Manchester United prats at Old Trafford this weekend, it is a fine opportunity to delve into the common psyche of each team’s glory hunters.

Join me on a delightful look into each of the idiots that literally choose to ‘support’ one of the big teams, simply because they see them on the tellybox more than the team that play in their city.

Somebody who makes such an obtuse decision cannot be trusted: they are the people who would rather read a text message because it’s more accessible than go to a library to read a book.

Picking a team to support because they have a high media profile is like thinking you’re in love with a celebrity. For this reason, Manchester United fans are essentially all Barry George.

This may appear to be a bitter lament from a perennial Football League fan, but that isn’t my intention. Rather, it is a celebration of the 87 other fine sets of soccerball supporters. Of course, the other set of fans that cannot be lumped into the group of sane fans are Derby County morons (who are the worst of the lot).



The most common of the glory hunting crew. Also the ugliest.

The Manchester United glory hunter is an increasingly dopy person, easily identifiable by the unusually large space between their eyes and swinging the latest piece of merchandise from their closest Manchester United megastore.

Aged between 18-28, they chose to pitch their mast to the Red Devils because they were winning titles in the 1990s. As Sky hit its pomp so did Manchester United, and the frequency of them being transmitted into the living rooms indoctrinated the weak minded masses who know call themselves Man U fans.

After two decades of domniance, Manchester United plastics have started to go a bit mental. They look on with envy at other fans enjoying the decadent rollercoaster experience of good and bad patches, while they plod to two trophies a season.

This has manifested itself into the bizarre gold and green ‘protest’. Quite what wearing colours of a club that died over a hundred years ago achieves is beyond me. All I know is they do it to protest against the Glazers – that’s right, the same Glazers that have bankrolled Ferguson from 3rd place finishes to three successive titles.

It’s no co-incidence that their eyes are so wide.

They are consistently treated to the finest football in England yet they do not support their team. Every goal is greeted with mocking the other team’s fans/players, rather than celebrating their own – the number of V signs from the Man U fans every time a goal is scored sums the club up.

While every other club sings songs about their players, Man United sing songs only about celebrating Argentina (for opposing England) or their hatred of one of their many ‘rivals’ (Arsenal, Man City, Liverpool, Chelsea etc). They live their life through negativity because, frankly, they are spoiled brats. The only sense of achievement is by others failing, compared to their side’s own continued excellence.



Chelsea fans are more wallies than wankers.

Unlike Manchester United, they do not govern themselves on hatred but rather on being overly happy with their team. They extol every player as being the “best in the world in their position”.

While this is true of midfield beast Michael Essien, it certainly is not of Didier Drogba, Frank Lampard, Petr Cech and, most certainly, John Terry.

However, the fandom is not like a lower league fan rejoicing ironically: Chelsea supporters are truly deluded that their players are the best a man can get. Unless he’s George Gillette, and then he’s scrambling after Spanish no marks. Does that work? I’m not sure.

Anyway, Chelsea fans don’t really care about football. The club have installed computer games into the back of the seats in the family stand, but to be honest such diversions would be warmly welcomed in every seat in Stamford Bridge.

Chelsea fans aren’t football fans; they’re Chelsea fans. They don’t look at life beyond their club and they certainly don’t care about it.

The weirdest thing is that when the club have an entrenched manager like Mourinho or Hiddink, that is actually quite a likeable trait.

But without such a talisman they are exposed for what they are: spoilt brats that will switch back to rugby the next time England win a World Cup.



Arsenal fans are probably the ones you would least like to be stuck in a lift with.

Much like Arsene Wenger, they have deluded themselves that they are a cut above everyone else they meet. There is an unquestionable arrogance about everything to do with Arsenal, and it is an arrogance that is becoming more and more misplaced with every passing season without a trophy.

An Arsenal glory hunter would think they innately more about football than a fan of Crewe Athletic, simply because they have chosen a team that passes the ball on the floor. They are miserable fools.

However, the most annoying thing about Arsenal fans is their sense of hyperbole whenever anything goes slightly against their team.

A dodgy penalty becomes a bribe and an injury becomes a murder. They wear black armbands if a player breaks a bone.

Like Manchester United fans, I believe this is a form of escapism. Like a bored housewife blowing up over a contretemps over a spilt cup of tea, Arsenal fans are bored of the status quo and look for bizarre small details to lose their rag over.



I would put Liverpool here but there fans are all either scousers (fair enough), plastic scousers (don’t have an identity so piggyback onto Liverpool’s) or second generation immigrants (their glory hunting dad passes it onto them).

Frankly Liverpool supporters are just a bit dull. They are all together a less interesting bunch of glory hunters than Tottenham Hotspur’s, who are essentially the geeks of the football world.

Spurs fans are mainly overweight and hairy, yet believe they are suave and sophisticated. They believe the kebab on their way back through Seven Sisters is a nod back to their Grecian heritage, rather than being an acknowledgment of their depraved current nature.

As a club, Spurs are the equivalent of Welsh people – they don’t have so much a chip on their shoulder but a whole bag of potatoes.

To compensate for not being as good historically as Arsenal, as good contemporaneously as Chelsea or as rich in tradition as West Ham, Spurs fans resort to learning obscure facts and bringing them out at any opportunity.

Much like that other great Jewish stereotype of lawyers, arguing with a Spurs fan is redundant.

They have learnt every small bit of detail so that, no matter what you say, they can prove Spurs did something a little bit better under Bill Nicolson in 1961. There will be some obscure statistic that Spurs have the highest percentage of fans born south of the River Thames, and believe that constitutes them being the biggest club in the country.

The other most annoying trait of Spurs fans is their massively misplaced feeling of importance.

Tottenham Hotspur are a mid-table Premiership team, yet they harp on about themselves being a bastion of the sport. They think having Ossie Ardiles in the 1970s makes them a big deal, without acknowledging that Manchester City have got Carlos Tevez in the 2010s.

And they like Harry Redknapp and he’s a scoundrel.

Something was needed to break up the text from the conclusion, and I think this dragon does a bang-up job

Anyway, keep an eye out for these four horrible, horrible people. They turn up thousands of times in stadiums every weekend, and millions of times in pubs where they noisily jeer the opposition team, while barely noticing their own players.

With big games coming thick and fast for the top four, there’s increasingly little to talk about between each match. Sure there have been a couple of top knacks this week (Wayne Rooney and CescĀ Fabregas), but there’s only so much Richard Keys can discuss a nobbled ankle.

Instead, Sky Sports cameras are resorting to pointing their cameras at the great unwashed that lazily support (and I do use that term sparingly) the Premiership’s top sides.

I should clarify that I use the term support is being used sparingly, not lazily or unwashed – which I pronounce proudly and confidently.

The fans who follow their home town clubs have much more a sense of humour about things, while supporters of the top four teams seem so myopic about the smallest details that they forget that they are there for two purposes: to help their team’s players, and to be entertained.


2 Comments so far
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I love Leicester City’s goalkeeper, Chris Weale. He is amazing. His performance at Pride Pride last week left me speechless. If he continues his fine form maybe Capello should include him for the World Cup.

Comment by Derby Fan

lol, i meant Pride Park, silly me

Comment by Derby Fan

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