Dear WSC
Oh blast, nearly made it, Huw Richards (Reviews, WSC 248). Six paragraphs of something approaching even-handedness towards Leeds United in your review of Gary Sprake’s biography but then, with the finishing line in sight, you can soar above the gravity of glib public opinion no more: “They were indeed dirty, cheating bastards.”It’s not that I’m a Leeds fan, nor that I unreservedly dispute these allegations. I was in my naive early teens when Revie’s men were in their pomp, so I could easily have been oblivious to the more devious methods of what was still one of the most effective teams I’ve ever seen. If they are to be criticised 30 years on, however, then can it at least be in a manner consistent with modern times? Consider one Roy Keane, for example. Occasional thug, habitual hothead, a cynical intimidator who went after what he wanted regardless of whether it did more harm than good to those around him. How many times have you witnessed a debate on the Irishman kick off with one of these themes, only to undergo a remarkable transformation as your local Keane apologist enters? By the time he has stressed Keane’s honesty, perfectionism and dedication, you’re being invited to believe that Sunderland’s gain was the Vatican’s loss. Whatever side of the argument you take, its structure certainly works to Keane’s advantage. Get the Mr Hyde stuff out of the way first, then finish the discussion on a high, firmly focused on Dr Jekyll. And if it’s good enough for Roy, it’s good enough for Leeds United. So next time your writers are let loose on the Elland Road archives, can we have a gentlemen’s agreement that they get the whole snidey, paranoid, Machiavellian thing out of the way early on and then close with two simple points: that Revie’s team were one of the best passing and possession sides this country has ever produced and that anyone who thinks you can merely cheat your way to two League titles, League and FA Cups, plus two European trophies from five finals, wants their head examining?
Jeffrey Prest, via email
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Stories
Back in issue 234 we asked you for your views on the World Cup and more than 600 readers took part. Roger Titford shares the results and compares them to the answers you gave us after the 1998 finals
While England may have had a Grip on the bench, WSC readers were less gripped by the 2006 World Cup, our summer survey reveals. Despite – or perhaps because of – the high hopes for England, there was a rather grumpy response to the tournament compared with the answers we had to similar questions in our 1998 France World Cup survey.
Dan Turner reports that although it can be exciting from an outsider looking in, League One hits fans where it hurts most – in the pocket
The Lord of the Rings features a giant spider paralysing Frodo with its venom, trussing him up in a blanket of goo and leaving him slumped on the floor a broken, pallid, blankly staring shell of his former self. That was what watching League One football felt like last season. Shelling out £15 to £20 a game to be bored catatonic stretched even the famous elasticity of patience, pride and pocket of fans at this level.
Dear WSC
I drove my family to Cardiff for the Championship play-off final, although I wasn’t going to the match. As a gnarled veteran of 35 years of away trips and big games, I planned my campaign with meticulous detail, with five separate contingency routes. It goes without saying that I totally ignored the official travel suggestions, while I treated the soothing advice of my friends who are Cardiff residents with amused, patronising disdain. Travelling football fans are deprived of their human rights as martial law is imposed for the duration and I’m the only man who can save us. What I experienced was a masterclass in football event management. I dropped them off 400 yards from the stadium and drove back later to collect them. There were orderly queues with fans from both teams mingling. Publicans had got together to designate certain pubs for West Ham or Preston fans. Not a single window was boarded up. Food and drink were at reasonable prices. Local residents could finish their shopping and catch their trains. Travel routes were clearly signposted. Stewards asked people if they wanted help. On the radio on the way home, the delays to Wembley stadium were being airbrushed out of existence by the builder’s spokesperson. There were no problems, it would just take two months to “hand the project over” (surely, uh, it’s the stadium, yes, the one over there…). I’ve always been a staunch supporter of Wembley; football needs its own home, yes the old facilities were crud and the transport diabolical, but the atmosphere made it all worthwhile. Suddenly that’s just not enough. After Cardiff, the new Wembley has lot to live up to and I fear that too much time and energy has gone into seductive architecture at the expense of the simple things that enable football people to have a good time. Prove me wrong, or else take us back to Cardiff.
Alan Fisher, Tonbridge
David Ogilvie’s only regrets about Stirling Albion’s finest hour are that he wasn’t there and that he has never seen the 20th goal. And yes, you read that right
In a year when Liverpool won the European Cup and Scotland’s rugby team won the Grand Slam, and in the month that Bob Geldof went from being a pop singer to the man behind Band Aid, an unremarkable football club also made headlines nationwide.