The Archive

New Labour came to power in 1997 riding shamelessly on the football bandwagon. Steve Greenfield and Guy Osborn take a critical look at their record in office. 

Even before the Labour victory in May 1997, football had a prime position in the political landscape. The Labour Party had launched its Charter for Football in 1995, detailing how they would respond to what Tony Blair called “the critical problems now associated with the game”. The rise of the Premiership and the the prospect of Euro 96 had helped make football socially acceptable and many clubs suddenly found themselves patronised, often literally, by the great and good (as well as some MPs).

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Africa's ambition of hosting the World Cup lies in ruins, writes Alan Duncan

The wailing outside Accra’s Military Hospital in the hours after the May 9 clash between Ghanaian giants Asante Kotoko and Hearts of Oak confirmed the worst – 126 fans killed fol­lowing a stampede sparked by security forces who had fired volleys of tear gas into the popular Ade Coker Stand.

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With the promise of being the most football-friendly government, Martin Cloake investigates the manifesto which helped New Labour come to power in 1997 

Promising to be the most football-friendly government ever helped Labour get elected in 1997. This time, football has been much lower on the agenda of every party, where it appears at all. Yet the election had barely started before all mention of it was knocked off many front pages by the news that a football manager would probably be leaving his club in 12 months’ time.

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Dear WSC
Your piece on the delights of terracing in Germany (WSC 171) provided a stark juxtaposition with the book I am currently reading, Nick Varley’s Parklife, where remorselessly he denies the reader any es­cape from the fact that Hillsborough is the pivotal moment of modern English football. For a moment I bathed in a tide of nostalgia, wistful for the excitement and overwhelming passion of terrace culture. Seats were for spectators, not fans. I also recalled the crush amidst the Tottenham fans at the Leppings Lane end in 1981 referred to in Varley’s book as the disaster that nearly happened. Last month I watched another semi-final, this time sitting in the Stretford End with my children. I’m proud they share my undiminished enthusiasm for the game, but we would not be together, either at Old Trafford or in the Members end at White Hart Lane, if we had to stand. We go to every home game in perfect safety and the view is excellent. Earlier that day they had for the first time been exposed to a fraction of the experience of the old days, and the famous adage that clubs never learn. Several thousand fans arriving for the official coaches formed an orderly queue round the ground. Well past departure time the random arrival of coaches, no stewards, no information and only three police meant that we joined everyone else roaming up and down the High Road. The best informed copper had not been told where the coaches would pull up and advised us to wait and “scramble for a seat”. The club were sufficiently organised, however, to open up the club shop from 5am. Thanks to the fans there was no trouble. My kids were bewildered at this lack of organisation because their experience of supporting their team is so utterly different, and I am glad this is the case. They already know about the contempt with which football treats the fans (left home 4.30am, back home 12.45 am). The game remains indifferent to Hillsborough and the Taylor Report in so many ways, but if terraces return we will still be sitting down.
Alan Fisher, Tonbridge

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Gary Sprake was the weak link of Don Revie's all-conquering Leeds United. Nonsense, says John Tandy

It’s almost as though the sniggers are a part of the name. In a verdict of history as unfair as any since Canute it seems that Gary Sprake will always be The Keeper Who Made Mistakes. When you ask for the evidence, they’ll tell you that in December 1967 he threw the ball into his own net against Liverpool. And in the 1970 FA Cup final he let Peter Houseman’s shot go under his body. And… well, that’s about it, really.

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