It's getting better all the time, but too many England fans till carry unnecessary baggage. Tom Davies saw mixed messages on display at Euro 2000

Anyone stumbling unawares into the neutral section behind one of the goals at the Czech Republic v France game in Bruges might have been forgiven for wondering who was playing. For there, amid the smattering of French blue and Czech red, were five Leyton Orient shirts. Admittedly I was wearing one of them, but this is no parochial club boast – there were also shirts and flags from Wycombe and Colchester and Cambridge and Burnley. Together, they represent English football’s forgotten travelling contingent – the dedicated neutrals – and they were out in force in the Low Countries.

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Monday 1 Wimbledon’s owners heed the advice of their players and part company with Egil Olsen. Just in the nick of time? 

Tuesday 2 West Ham face an FA enquiry after angry scenes at Highbury where Emmanuel Petit appears to handle the ball before scoring Arsenal’s injury-time winner. “I’m not one for chasing referees but everything he gave went their way,” says Harry, getting his breath back. John Fashanu wants the Wimbledon job: “I’ve decided to go for it. If you cut me open I would bleed Wimbledon through and through.” And Vinnie Jones follows suit: “Olsen was useless. Give me and Joe Kinnear the job and if we stay up, give us £200,00 each.” A club spokesman is unimpressed: “I wonder if Vinnie intends to donate the fee he got for slagging off the club to charity? Somehow I doubt it.” Jimmy Quinn is sacked by Swindon.

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England played well, but the tournament as a whole was a disappointment, says Ken Gall

Euro 96 was, of course, the tournament of that song, and consequently provided a substantial contribution to the pension funds of Messrs Skinner and Baddiel. It also inspired, among other things, an execrable television drama starring the dreaded Neil Morrisey and a seemingly embalmed Des Lynam.

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Dear WSC
Until recently I have always assumed your articles to be generally well researched. However, your feature on the east midlands (WSC 160) falls somewhat short of the mark. The fact that Simon Tyers thinks “the heightened sense of local rivalry that exists between the west midlands clubs isn’t replicated further east” shows he has neither spoken to many supporters of Forest or Derby, nor, it would appear, has he ever been in attendance when the teams have met.To fans of both Forest and Derby the rivalry is as intense as any in England.  The common media fallacy that “east midlands fans are not passionate” is both boring and untrue. Equally lazy is the suggestion that there isn’t sufficient “geographical closeness”. A visit to the area would reveal that Nottingham and Derby are more or less joined by an ever growing urban conurbation and a fluid workforce.The writer tries several times to compare unfavourably the traditions and rivalries of the east midlands with that of the west, particularly Wolves and West Brom (perhaps betraying his loyalties). He also tries some spurious argument about levels of support being related to the amount of heavy industry in a region. However I would suggest that the trophy cabinets of the east have had far more use than their Black Country counterparts over the last 30 years – and The Hawthorns doesn’t seem to be packed to the rafters with 30,000 foundry workers every fortnight, does it? As a Notts-born Forest fan, who has lived in Derby for 20 years, it is ironic that I find Derby supporter Alistair Hewitt’s view closest to the truth. He at least recognises the rivalries that exist. But then local knowledge will always be better than drawing on media misinformation and the same old predictable references. Who knows, maybe someone, someday will write about the east midlands without feeling the urge to keep referring to Brian Clough.
N Salmon, Stretton 

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All football columnists are self-important; but some are more self-important than others. Ian Plenderleith investigates

Big names, big opinions. Emerg­ing as a person of public repute causes media top cats to assume you have something of importance to say. This is particularly true in football, where the juxtaposition of crass thought and a famous face has in recent years spawned more drivel-strewn ­column inches than the collected journalistic offerings of Frank Leboeuf laid end to end. Inevitably, this cankerous trend has spread to the internet.

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