If I was to be asked (and I never am), what League of Ireland team do I support, I would say Bray Wanderers. Then I would have to row back a bit, as the term support is way too strong a word to describe my relationship with Bray Wanderers. It would be more accurate to say, that I am aware of Bray Wanderers. If League of Ireland results are being read out, I will note Bray’s results and feel the slightest of slightest pangs of regret, if they’ve lost.
Why Bray Wanderers? Simple, I once went out with a girl from Bray, who as a football fan, ‘proper’ supported Bray Wanderers. Such is the way an Irish person can find themselves in thrall to a football club. A football club to which they have no real connection.
Every year, Irish people spend tens of millions of Euro, traveling to the UK to shower their devotion and time and money on UK clubs. The vast majority of these fans will never watch a League of Ireland match. Even those of us who would be deemed to be ‘armchair’ fans, follow UK clubs in preference to League of Ireland coverage.
This lack of interest in Irish football, beyond the international side, became an almost active dismissal of the League of Ireland, when moves were made to move Wimbledon FC, to Dublin. I’ll be honest, when it was first mooted, I was overjoyed. I am certain, I would have become a Season Ticket holding, jersey wearing, royal ‘we’ using, wall-eyed Ultra. The idea of having a team, so close to me, that competed in the only league that really matters, was wonderful.
Of course it came to nought. The small cohort of Irish soccer fans, who are devoted to League of Ireland clubs, were outraged by the idea of a UK club, making geographically real, what was already a financial and emotional reality. I remember caring not a jot for their concerns. No one’s support for their club, really matters as much as one’s own support for a club.
Wimbledon eventually moved to Milton Keynes and became the MK Dons. Their fans were so outraged that they formed a new, wholly fan owned club, called AFC Wimbledon. This new club has steadily progressed to League 2 of the English Football League. They are due to play their first ever match against each other, in a FA Cup tie on December 2. So much do AFC hate MK Dons, for ‘robbing’ their club, the AFC fans seriously considered not traveling. That is hate and a half. Generally in football, nothing is enjoyed more, than hatred of the bitterest rival. And hypocrite that I am, I’m hoping AFC defeat those terrible club stealing MK Dons. You know, the club I wanted to become the Dublin Dons.
It is difficult to make sense of that inconsistency without understanding just how irrational and emotional, most of us fans are. For the most part, we were enslaved by an English or a Scottish or even Italian, Spanish or German club, before we are ready to make an informed decision about who we ‘really’ should follow. And worse, once that child has chosen their club, the adult must endure the decades of mediocrity, their decision has forced upon them. Spare a thought for Leeds United supporters.
In my childhood, as it is for children today, UK teams dominate the media and thus our imaginations. It is The Premiership über alles. And the definite article is capitalised, so you just know it’s important. When that time comes in a person’s life, that stupid life altering moment, that ridiculous life committing moment, when a vulnerable pre-teen finds themselves increasingly in thrall to a game and an atmosphere they do not understand, to concepts and sides and contexts they do not grasp, they just know they need to be part of it. They need that crazy rush that comes from shouting at men, in the hope that their baying screams will better enable those men to manipulate that beautiful round thing, they keeps moving about on that sward of greenest grass. And sometimes the shouting works. Sometimes, magically, those men, hundreds of miles away, hear the needy howls roared through the televisions and they do something remarkable and that pre-teen is hooked. Forever trapped, following a team from a city they’ve never heard of, with its impenetrable accents, with a fine future behind it, but they use the royal ‘we’ from that point on.
If reason was to be applied one would decide to follow the best team or to follow a team that plays down the road. But reason doesn’t apply. One might be lucky and find oneself supporting one of the bigger sides, but this was not down to reason. And yes, one should pick a team one can watch in the flesh every other week. But if it’s not The Premiership, La Liga, the Bundesliga or the Serie A, it’s not on television, not on billion Euro television, billion Euro television with Super Sunday’s.
In a civilised world, children would be banned from watching football until they were able to explain the ‘off-side rule’ and how it has evolved over the last, let’s say, three decades. Then they should be made write an essay about the sonnet, Shall I Compare Thee. Explaining which quality is more important in an object of love, proximity or quality. Then and only then, should they be exposed to the possibility of the gut wrenching emotion of supporting a football club, here or abroad. And once the Leeds United risk is explained to them, then their decision should be supported by all.
If I had to do it all again I don’t know what path I’d take. What I do know, is that I wish Liverpool was in Kerry and that after a match I could rush home, have dinner, mow the lawn, have a shower, play with the dog and then sit down to watch the highlights, ads and all. And then the next day, get up to go watch Kerry beat Cork in the hurling.
