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Nobody cares anymore

By The Boy -

Bread and circuses.

Last night England beat Moldova. Wembley stadium was clearly littered with bank upon bank of hundreds of empty seats; the game itself was broadcast on a Freeview terrestrial station.

Earlier this week we watched – I say we watched  but nobody but the unemployed or the press actually did – Greg Dyke’s utterly pointless speech which in a nutshell, bemoaned the fact that nobody cares anymore. The press dwelt upon the fact that Dyke suggested that England can win the 2022 World Cup. Partly because it was laughable, partly because it avoided addressing the the other ‘point’ which Dyke included in his c.3700 word address; namely that the Premier League is riddled with the presence of Johnny Foreigner.

Had you watched an edited version of Dyke’s speech, one with all references to football removed, you would have been forgiven for thinking you were listening to a plea from the National Association of Shopkeepers to, ‘Buy British!’ Which is a chilling thought. This sceptered Isle no longer has a manufacturing industry. Why? Because if you were daft enough to buy British, the odds were that whatever you bought (once you could get the person selling said item to put down their cup of tea, and their cigarette) it was too expensive and probably fell apart before you got it home.

When we were kids our lives revolved around football and footballs. Prior to discovering the many splendid delights of the lingerie section, it was the first thing you looked up when your mums’ catalogue arrived. 

You got to school on time so you could have a kick about before the first bell. You played headers and volleys at break and you hoped to get stuck into some class of full game at lunch. Home time. Wait for dad to come home, because if we don’t all eat together we’ll die in our beds, and out, out, out into the fresh air and find someone, anyone with a ball.

It’s all changed. Nobody owns a ball. 30% of kids in the UK under the age of 15 are obese. They closest they get to exercise is marching into Woolworths to buy a new game for their PiiSbox. Nobody cares anymore.

The Champions League has changed everything forever. The only way it won’t be forever, is if people stop paying their satellite subscriptions. And so we face the vulgarities of money. The recent Bale sale nudged a good few over the edge. Forget austerity, economically, too many people are on the floor to take €100m for a one and a half season wonder in their stride.

The explosive expansion of food banks in the UK is a good marker of the ‘base line,’ where reality lies. The Trussel Trust had 2 food banks operating in 2004. The last count was in 2012 with over 250 food banks running – but this was with an average 2 or 3 more opening every week. How many people are subsidising their ‘existence’ by using food banks, right now, as you read this? The figure is thought to be north of half a million.

I mention Bale, but he’s only a good example of how distorted (casually call it market forces or not) the game has become. Until the time coded tape of him molesting farmyard animals is released, the guy is Captain Wholesome.

But your average footballer isn’t. Rape, spit roasting minors, defecating on traffic wardens, threesomes, theft, tarring and feathering black people, criminal damage, foursomes, urinating in church fonts, bigamy, fivesomes, dwarf hurling and eating disabled people are all well established leisure activities for your average top flight footballer.

The truth is most club supporters can mentally sweep these harmless misdemeanors under the carpet, but at an international level, if you aren’t a Chelsea fan, few if any could cheer convincingly if John Terry were to score a goal.

If you’re lucky, you might find somewhere that will sell you a Spurs shirt for a pound less than the Official site. But if you want an England shirt Sports Direct routinely have them heavily discounted within weeks of being launched. And then think of who you typically see wearing an England shirt. People who accessorise with fighting dogs and Agros jewellery.

A sorry commercial worth, anachronistic and unrepresentative. Bread and circuses can only be stretched so far. 

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