My first ever Norwich match was a strange introduction to the club I now love.
Birmingham City 1-1 Norwich City, 21st March 2009. It was a dull contest in a devastating season was my first delve into the yellow bubble that we all inhabit so gladly at the moment.
The context and result aside, you would expect six-year-old me to feel exhilarated by my initial exposure to the world of football, wouldn’t you? To experience some sort of epiphany where I realised my love for the Canaries.
Well, that didn’t happen; that realisation would occur, weirdly, in the 2009/10 League One season during a 2-1 loss away at MK Dons.
In fact, the only emotions I took away were discomfort, boredom and exhaustion. The same sentiments that led six-year-old me to continually ask my dad (throughout the match) whether we could leave early. He finally surrendered in the face of youthful petulance with five minutes to go and exited the ground with his mentally spent son in tow.
It’s something over which I hold a lot of internal distress, even as I write these words close-to ten years on.
Don’t worry, I have a high enough level of self-awareness to realise how dramatic and infantile that might sound, but then again, I’m a football fan.
Every one of us knows our minds work in different ways to the rest of the population; we blow things out of proportion because they relate to something so colossally present in our lives.
That doesn’t mean that the excessive emotions we feel are not authentic, however.
I feel guilty about not falling in love there and then with City. I feel ashamed that my first game wasn’t actually at Carrow Road, but St. Andrews. And I feel irritated with myself for only recognising 3 members of that particular starting lineup even today.
The gradual growth in my affection towards the Canaries damages, at least in my mind, my own view of myself as a committed and securely attached supporter.
In other words, I feel insecure as a Norwich City fan.
It is my untrained psychological assessment that insecurity in the average football fan is an unhealthy thing; it causes a need to prove to one’s self and others that they value their club’s success and pride over other’s quality of life and even their own.
Continuing my hypothesis, I believe it is this very same mix of anxieties that caused that Birmingham supporter to make his ungainly-way onto the pitch and shove – the right hook was resoundingly missed – Jack Grealish to the St Andrew’s turf over a week ago.
That man has lost his job and gained a prison sentence all because he felt he needed to assure himself that he cared more about the colours of blue-and-white than blue-and-claret.
He was insecure (that word again) about, not his ‘Zulu’-street-rep or pride, but his very identity. Because when you care as much about your club as he, or I, or many of you reading this will, football is inextricably intertwined with who you really are – the very core of your being.
Essentially, that Blue’s fan and I share, at least from my point of view, a fair few similarities: we each hail from the same city, both consider football to be massively important in our lives and ultimately each carry a sense of insecurity around our faith in our separate football teams.
Therefore, if my parents hadn’t educated me on morality and emotional intelligence throughout my life in the way they have, and if my dad had sold me a graphic story of 1980s football hooliganism, then maybe, just maybe, I could possess a similar mindset to that particular Bluenose.
Despite my insecurities surrounding the actions of me a decade ago, I have never resorted to physical violence to get-one-up on an opposition fan and, unless Grant Hanley himself sets-up a ‘yellow army’ youth firm, I doubt I ever will.
I think it is safe to say that the majority of football fans in Britain are disgusted by any violence that has football as the ‘justification’. I also believe that the vast majority of Norwich’s support-base is happy that we don’t have anything too similar to The Zulus of Birmingham City or The Subway Army of Wolves.
Despite this, it has shocked me how many tweets and Instagram posts I’ve seen defending the actions of that Grealish-attacker. One Norwich fan-page (which will remain nameless) even stated it was what “everyone in that stadium would’ve done” if they’d have had (paraphrased into more printable English) ‘the resolve’.
Seeing how the recent attack on a 32-year-old Manchester City fan by two Schalke ‘ultras’ (leaving the victim with serious head injuries) is still fresh in the national news, you would assume that more of the population would be conscious about the effect of allowing tribalism to overrule compassion.
Yet, it seems not.
Most of us know well that primal and unwarranted violent acts do not equate to honourable expressions of pride for the badge stitched to the front of your team’s shirt.
We also struggle to comprehend how anyone could commit a similar act to that seen in the Second City Derby where the attacker’s sole aim was to cause a Brummie in his early-twenties – one who’s accomplishing his childhood dream every single match-day – some suffering.
However, to solve this issue, football fans, clubs and governing bodies across the nation cannot continue to battle such troubles with self-righteous anger and life-long-bans.
Football is not a matter of life and death, it’s more important than that.
Bill Shankly
Attempting to understand the more twisted-side of the football devotee’s brain seems to be the only way to ever stop the sport from being a literal take on what the legendary Liverpool manager claimed.
It might take a lot of time, effort and, probably, exasperation but to recognise the insecurities of football fans and identify what makes them act in irrational and, sometimes, violent ways, may ultimately be the way to stop it.
An excellent article, well argued, but I must correct your Bill Shankly quote. What he actually said was:
“Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”
Potentially, it is this attitude that a minority of fans adopt and use to justify their actions.
Thankfully, in spite of an increase in these incidents, they are much less than their heyday in the 70s and 80s.
I’m really glad you liked it! About the shankly quote I feel pretty bad about that, sorry! The quote still works in it’s actual form I just feel like it was lazy from my perspective to not check the exact wording.
Sometimes you can overthink these things. The simple truth is that in all walks of life there are nutters. We must do what we can to guard against them but unfortunately we’ll never stop them all. Physical attacks, knifings, shootings are all too regular, fortunately the majority of us are of sound mind and there is also a lot of kindness in life. Enjoy your football and don’t let the nutters get you down.
A very good article to read.
Working as I did for many years overseas the 70’s and 80′ football troubles got call the English Decease and in so parts it is still referred to as that.
In its most troubled times groups from 1 club would contact other clubs and arrange to met up for a fight prior to and after games some that were involved were quite successful in there normal everyday life and it was a way to add a little excitement to a mundane life style.
Never had the inclination to get involved had enough of the rumbles in the Mods era and that was enough for me.
As someone once said he got his 5 mins of fame and now has to live with it, will a new employer want him, would he trust him in the work place if he had Villa or supporters from local clubs to work aling side.
No matter who you support its not worth getting into trouble for.
Hi George – a great read.
I was a teenager in the 1970s and in those days I was more likely to be found in the Paxton at White Hart Lane than at Carrow Road. Geography and circumstances.
There were many seriously scary moments back in the day, believe me. Far more than there are now, thank God.
Your mention of the WW Subway Army brought back a horrible memory for me – I think they called themselves the Subway Sect (after a punk band) into the 1990s.
I was working away one night when they put half a breeze block through a Club Cabbage coach window because we beat them 2-0. Luckily I finished work so late I had no time to check back into the Novotel to change and pick up my colours. Into Molyneux in a suit and tie.
Walking back to the Novotel through THAT subway afterwards about ten of them came up to me asking: “Have you seen them Norwich ba$tards?”
I put on a Black Country accent (one of the few I can do) and just said “no mate I haven’t – I’m going home from work”.
I was absolutely bricking the last few metres of the walk, believe me. As soon as I saw the hotel sign I walked extremely quickly. OK I pegged it.
Great article.
Wow, my mum’s from Wolverhampton so her side of my family are all Wolves fans.
It must’ve been a decent Black Country accent for them to let you carry on going, so fair play to you! Most people butcher it!
Sounds like a really scary experience and I honestly don’t see how fans can go out looking for violence in swarms like that (but unfortunately they do/ did a lot more in the past).
I’m really pleased that you thought it was a good article!
I had to go to work at the Inmont paint factory in Well Lane Wednesfield. Turn right at the Neachells and carry on until you turn left into the works as I remember.
I never had to construct paint, just photograph and write about those who did. I met some fantastic folks and had some great times there. There are so many beautiful places around that area, there really are.
The local pub to the factory was called the Tiger and a dinner-time visit there took all the pain of work away!
I picked up the accent from the guys I worked with. I couldn’t properly do Birmingham if I tried. There’s a big difference as anybody from that general location would realise. A bit like the contrast between Norwich itself and wider Norfolk I guess.
I got away with it in the subway because I spoke quietly and not too nasally – they didn’t want to beat up a guy in a tie anyway as they were after more fish to fry. I was carping it though, I admit.
I’ve had a bit of a soft spot for Bluenoses, after inadvertently wandering into a “Brummy” pub in Cardiff before the play-off final, along with my son and his mate. The place was stacked but went totally quiet when we wandered in wearing our colours. Since we were nearly at the bar before we noticed the atmosphere we persevered and ordered a pint each. At this point some 5 foot 6 black guy pushed his way into the middle of the floor and looked all around, and said “no-one gives these guys any trouble, or I’ll take you down.” Then he turned to us and said ” enjoy your pints” and went back to his mates. We finished our pints and left, with a considerable feeling of relief, and went and found a City pub.
Blimey Jim!
Me & Mrs P were in Cardiff that day. None of our friends could get a drink anywhere.
We alone approached the Holiday Inn, she chatted up the bouncers (one of whom fits the description in your post) and in we went. She said we were staying there and luckily they didn’t check it out.
Apart from an extremely geriatric couple we were the only yellows in the building. And I have to say that a group of Bluenoses invited us to sit with them and we had great craic. For two hours.
Although we lost that day, they’re by no means bad, those Brummies.
I’ve a milkman friend Nic Crewys a Watford fan who was set on by WW ‘supporters’ back in 2015. Spent weeks in a coma and more than a year off work, thankfully he pulled through but seriously impacted on him and his family’s life. Martin’s comment sent shivers down the spine for sure.
I’ve read your piece George and congratulate you, good to know we’ve such an intelligent teenage lad. However, mindless thugs the lot of them.anyone who resorts to unprovoked violence I’ve no time for, defend ourselves and our fellow man/woman/kids for sure but that’s all.
I’ve enjoyed banter with opposing fans going to and from matches and sometimes in the stands never any hint of a problem. At the same time had hairy experiences too, Luton Town away is one that I recall.
For my part I never liked the Shankly comment, football has its place but it’s family and loved ones that matter the most.