Book reviews

John Tandy examines Birmingham City, a club in the hands of the new breed of owner said to be revolutionising football

In many ways, the Karren Brady reign at Birmingham mirrors the changes in the game in general over the last few years. Commercially the figures speak for themselves: the club has run at an operating profit (before transfer fees) for the last two years. Indeed, in 1995 they made a profit even when the transfer fees were added in. This season for the first time we’ve got an attractive, if scantily-stocked, club shop, and there’s even a branch in the city centre where you can buy tickets without having to trek up to the office at the ground (a journey so tortuous not even Ranulph Fiennes has dared attempt it).

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Barnsley were becoming the neutral's favourite team, but Richard Darn explains how this put their fans in an odd position

Spring – according to the Met office – came early this year, and crops and insects are totally confused. They’ve got my sympathy. The other day I queued for my first-ever season ticket (£215) to watch Barnsley play in the Premiership – and it was still only April with one more game to play in the Nationwide League.

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Something has changed at Millwall and the club no longer has an aura around it. Lance Bellers asks why

This season two unthinkable things happened. One, Millwall did not receive my season ticket application in time for the special discount rate; in fact, they never received an application from me at all. Two, on the morning of the last home fixture, I asked my wife if she fancied going shopping that afternoon. I did need to spend my Next vouchers, after all.

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Bolton Wanderers are moving home. Keith Parkinson is impressed by their new ground

Attention all visiting Premiership fans heading for Planet Reebok via junction 6 of the M61. You have been warned. Engage low gear and keep a tight grip on the wheel – if you can. The first sight of Britain’s most expensive pounds-per-seat purpose built sports stadium will take your breath away.

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Matt Nation offers a brief lesson in the correct and incorrect uses of some important footballing terms

There exists a type of elderly gentleman – a neighbour, perhaps, or one’s maternal grandfather – whose singular unpleasantness lends credence to the argument that the good old days were not all they are cracked up to be. Yet when spoken of by third parties, their overall lugubriousness is interpreted as old-fashioned plain speaking that the younger generation cannot even begin to understand. Mercifully, most of these elderly gentlemen are not former footballers, for the additional cap-doffing, spittle-licking and general kowtowing that occurs when anyone of a certain age plays football as well is as widespread as it is obscene as it is wrong.

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