Football fans are, largely, overly emotional teenage girls. They develop untrustworthy relationships on a whim, embark on regular emotional rollercoasters based on what’s shown on the TV and strangely find bad boys utterly irresistible.
If you examine the so called “fan’s favourites” then you’ll see that they mostly consist of players widely derided outside of their own fan base. Even before his diabolical rant at QPR’s Jamie Mackie, El-Hadji Diouf was resoundingly despised outside of Blackburn for a string of antics that would more appropriately befit a rather rude camel. Compare this to the chants that ring round Ewood Park on a Saturday afternoon, and you could easily mistake him for a much revered hero… albeit one with rather silly hair.
This isn’t alien to well-supported clubs, either. My own Southend United, for the third time, signed former Chelsea starlet Lee Sawyer recently. During his second stint at the club, he alienated his team mates with an attitude that led him to be labelled as ‘ASBO’, frequently missed team meetings and was sent packing to Chelsea with his tail very much between his legs. The vast majority of the fan base welcomed him back into the fold this week with open arms, hailing him a saviour.
Attitudes of supporter fandom have changed over recent years, and you could be mistaken for thinking that this instance is a bizarre consequence of the celebrity culture attached to the nouveau football follower. What this explanation doesn’t explain, however, is that this bizarre attachment to players of questionable moral repute has been occurring for some time. Paul Gascoigne, Eric Cantona, Diego Maradona and George Best have all been idolised by their supporters in spite of their indiscretions.
Diego Maradona even managed to convince great swathes of Napoli supporters to deny their nationality and support their favourite son and his Argentina at Italia ’90. At the time, Italy was very much in the midst of a north/south divide and citizens in the south, including those of Naples, were made to feel undervalued by their northern counterparts. Despite this social extreme, successfully converting Italians to Argentines in the midst of a football tournament is some feat, especially for someone who fled the country owing some £33m in tax arrears.
It would be easy to attribute this to the remarkable talent these players possessed, or even the success they bestowed upon the club during their time. What this doesn’t explain is why players of equal talent are simply not as well revered. Jamie Redknapp, for instance. Before he literally graced Sky television with his very literal presence, he wasn’t an overly terrible footballer. Blighted by injuries, he was a very effective midfielder who earned the reputation as one of football’s ‘good guys.’
I’ve yet to hear the Kop preach the wonders of Redknapp on a Saturday afternoon.
So what exactly is the reason for such misguided and inappropriate affection? Simply put, these rapscallions are the footballers who the average supporters can relate to. Football icons are plunged into the media limelight and expected to behave with the morality and sincerity of a monk. This is, of course, an unfeasible expectation but one that has only been exacerbated by modern 24/7 news culture. No sooner had the news of Wayne Rooney’s extra-marital dalliances broken, was there several news crews camped outside his Cheshire home hoping for a glimpse of the man.
Footballers are forced to live a sheltered life, and the often obscene wages they receive can lead to them become distanced from the recognised social normality. Players who live their lives in a warts and all manner, accepting their weaknesses alongside their strengths, show a human quality that the average supporter is far more likely to relate to.
Players who show their emotion, their fragility on the football pitch, are far more likely to endear themselves to the baying masses than the charisma-vacuum clone who see football solely as an occupation, rather than a childhood love that they’re fortunate enough to experience as a professional.
The halcyon days of the loveable, working class in the Best or Gascoigne fashion may have passed, eclipsed by the eccentric, foreign rogue such as Cantona or Di Canio, but the echoes of character remain in the game. Ashley Cole committed no worse a crime than Wayne Rooney, yet the mention of the former’s name met with such contempt that the latter is never likely to hear. Rooney’s image is infinitely better because of what he represents… A professional who lives for the game and supporters will, ultimately, forget all their discretions for this simple fact.
Fans will, much like the teenage girls they have regressed to, be left broken hearted by the bad boys, but they won’t forget them in a hurry.
