Bill Shankly, the Liverpool manager from the late sixties and seventies, once said that football was not a matter of life and death; it was more important than that.
While his comments may have been slightly tongue in cheek, there is an element of truth in what he said.
Football evolves and changes with the players and managers that grace it. Players come up through the ranks, move into management, or ownership, and then retire in a perpetual cycle.
As a young fan, I had no idea about how old players were. All I knew is that they were much older than me and were people to be looked up to.
Footballers didn’t age, they just got more experienced. When players changed clubs, retired, or moved into a managerial position, I never considered it a sign that they were aging as people. That was just the way things worked.
The facts of footballing life for me were thus: trainee, player, manager, pundit. That was it. As you get older however, and become more aware of your own mortality, you see that although life is short, a footballer’s career is even shorter.
The current European Championships have made me realise now that I am no longer a young supporter. I have transcended the planes of adolescent fandom and am now entering my own kind of football adulthood.
The players I have watched emerge onto the scene and take the game by storm are closing on retirement. Raul never even made the Spanish squad. Lilian Thuram looked off the pace and a shadow of his former self. Ruud Van Nistlerooy is the elder statesman of a young and vibrant Dutch team. The Italian defence has no Nesta, Cannavaro, or Maldini!
New and improved players are becoming the stars of their national sides, and for me, here lies the real sticking point. How do I approach my role as supporter now?
They are, in some cases, two or three years, younger than me—Ronaldo, Rooney, Fabregas, Torres, Sneijder, Ramos, De Rossi, Podolski, Modric.
As a young fan you go out, you get the shirt, you idolise and mimic and you trade their much sought after sticky backed visages with your mates—two for a shiny, remember.
I can't in my right mind go out now and buy a shirt with “Modric” on the back, knowing he is younger than me, can I? How can I hero worship a younger chap?
Should I even be buying a shirt at all anymore? Should I let a bad result ruin my weekend? Should I really be shouting and swearing at the TV any more?
I am at a stage of my football supporting life that I never expected to happen.
7 Comments
Loading more comments...
This comment and all replies have been deleted This comment has been deleted Undo delete