Most truly great things in life have a dark side: Batman; the moon; Oreos. Foot- ball is, unfortunately, no exception.
Sometimes, the offences of which the sport is guilty are simply amplifications of prejudices and attitudes that occur to some extent in society at large. Give a closet racist the frenzy and anonymity of a football match, and that usually latent racism might just be teased out; give a group of thugs an excuse to fight, and they will do so. These, to my mind, are not problems with the sport itself, but rather simply coincidental issues: football matches happen to facilitate antisocial and unacceptable behaviour.
The reaction of some Manchester United fans to the death of club owner Malcolm Glazer last week barely even registers as a football scandal. The reaction, however, was nonetheless startling: this was not just the expression of hatred by a few prejudiced individuals who found in football a suitable theatre for their vitriol, but rather a whole middle ground of passionate football fans who felt their hatred to be justifiably derived from football itself.
What, then, was this reaction? There were, of course, any number of tweets from people who are apparently still yet to work out that what they say on Twitter is accessible to everyone – tweets which, predictably, were outspoken in their gloating delight at an old man’s death. Some of these, naturally, had insidious overtones of prejudice and hatred. The grim reality is that Twitter is a forum for all kinds of vitriol. A few weeks ago, when the Boston Bruins ice hockey team fell prey to the talents of P.K. Subban, a black player appearing for the MontreÌal Canadiens, the word ‘n*gger’ began trending in Boston. Twitter, just like sports matches themselves, offers an illusion of ano- nymity that tempts the despicable to come crawling out of the woodwork.
Given the nature of Twitter and its chequered history, then, the hateful reaction of a few was only to be expected. What startled me was not the reaction of those who revelled leeringly in the death under the guise of anonymity, but rather the callous, cold response of semi-public figures in the footballing world. Take, for example, the frankly pathetic statement given by Andy Walsh, general manager of FC United, the splinter club set up in protest against the Glazer takeover. Walsh could muster no condolences, no regret at the passing of an old man: all he could bring him- self to say was that Glazer had “taken advantage” of the “lack of regulation” in the game, and had “caused a lot of pain in this city”. As a United fan myself, I spend much of my time reading fan blogs, the best of which – and by far the biggest – being ‘Republik of Mancunia’. Taking a well earned break having written the first few lines of the introduction to an essay last week, I checked the blog for news, to be greeted only with the stark headline ‘Glazer Dead’. The Twitter page for the blog, meanwhile, suggested “Jelly and ice cream?”, a reference to the ‘having a party when [genocidal murderer / puppy killer / ruthless despot / football club owner] dies’ school of hilarious chants. Again – no sympathy, no condolences, only satisfaction.
This is a phenomenon that has been seen before. Only last year, the death of Margaret Thatcher provoked a slew of Twitter celebrations and even street parties – the depressingly widespread nature of the joy expressed was demonstrated as Judy Garland’s ‘Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead’ soared to the top of the iTunes charts. The reaction was, in my view, sickening; it was nevertheless in some perverted sense understandable. Thatcher had, according to her detractors, ruined lives – as Prime Minister, she certainly had the power to do so. Malcolm Glazer, as owner of Manchester United Football Club, had no such powers. Sure, having to watch Marouane Fellaini stomp around the pitch with all the poise and technique of Treebeard came pretty close to ruining my life. But this is football, not life.
Malcolm Glazer did not leave millions unemployed. Malcolm Glazer was not responsible for unprecedented levels of national inequality. Malcolm Glazer never tried to introduce a poll tax. What, then, did Malcolm Glazer do? Glazer took over Manchester United using the mechanism of a leveraged buyout, and consequently saddled the club with debt. The trail of death, destruction and ‘pain’ left by this takeover includes five Premier League titles, three League Cups, five Com- munity Shields, a Champions League and a FIFA Club World Cup. True, ticket prices have risen – but this has been the case at almost every Premiership club. True, Manchester United still, unbelievably, have not addressed problems with their squad quality – but given the amount of money thrown at the problem, and Sir Alex Ferguson’s constant reassurances that the Glazers provided him with as much money as he ever asked for, it seems wrong to blame Malcolm Glazer for this situation.
None of this, however, is relevant. By engag- ing with a debate about whether Glazer was ‘good’ for United, we implicitly legitimise the view espoused by the tweeters and bloggers referred to above: the view that footballing considerations, if they are strong enough, may override basic human decency, that if a man damages the prospects of success for our club, it is in some way justified to revel in his death. This, to me, is football gone too far.
