Questions arise, and only the un-inducted don’t have answers. Why does football play such a central role in the world today? What is it that makes the wealthiest people in the world and the poorest sods alike flock to The Game religiously and cherish it beyond comprehension? What is it that makes football different, to the extent that pundits, writers and idiots alike make a living commenting about The Game, about those who own it, those who run it and those who run it into the ground? What is this phenomenon that is certainly unique and transcends any other human social interaction, reaches into the heights of global politics, threatens to derail lives and – occasionally – delivers joy to literally everyone?
For one, football is the only game in the world that is actively played in 210 countries. It has the same rules everywhere, the same problems everywhere, delivers the same excitement everywhere and everyone is an expert.
Secondly, and because everyone is an expert, everyone feels qualified to talk about it, to scream about it, to smear it, to praise it, to shout about it and to silently withdraw when the supported team has lost.
Thirdly, and because it is a game that everybody feels competent to comment about, and because it is the 21st century “panem et circensis”, now delivered by the New Cesars, i.e. faceless conglomerates or ugly-faced oligarchs, the ultimate voyeuristic pleasure of the masses and for the masses rules (today’s gladiators don’t get killed in the arena, they deliver a beautifully studied dive, maybe scream a bit when a hamstring twangs, and, at the top of the ladder, cherish the millions they earn each season).
Football, once the weekend pastime of the working class, has become the plaything of the social elite everywhere. It appears that the fans have become a negligible nuisance and tv broadcasts the manna of the deserving. The deserving being the owners of clubs and players (whether there is third-party ownership or not).
Fumes of beer and sausages used to qualify the flavour of the day when all players had the same studs, the same shin-protection and the same long, then short, then long again pants. The fun was in being part of a like-minded group of fans who’d travel to each and every away-day match, in coaches, trains and private “Citroën Deux-Chevaux-s”. The fun was to feel powerful and “home” among complete strangers who shared the one common feel-good moment of the disenfranchised: the feeling of strength and invincibility amidst a group of equally disenfranchised fans.
Horst Dassler changed the world.
With his marketing-driven concept of monetising sport, and football in particular, the advent of a Brave New World of Football took hold and started to strangle the game – some say: make it more attractive. Is it?
Literally over night, Dassler’s adidas became the leading force of sports marketing and the exploitation of all sports – through such constructs as ISL/ISMM – was now the real flavour of the day. A sport loved by the underdog had become the sport actively supported by the middle class, only to be one today where the middle classes are mere onlookers themselves and “real money” rules. The money of corporate giants (“the sponsors”), the money of super wealthy individuals (“the owners”) and the money of those who administer The Game has replaced the masses who – like all masses all over the world- are left holding the shorter end of the stick and fork out 30, 40 and more pounds per game to see their gladiators win, fail or draw.
A question remains unanswered: “quo vadis, football”? What is the next step? Like in all present human evolution, technology may determine tomorrow’s Game: more technology, an ever-increasing pace, even more money thrown at The Game and increasingly empty stadia (who wants to fork out £40 per game when a subscription to ALL games of ALL leagues can be had for half that price?). This is a scenario that some are preventatively decrying, others actively wishing for. More broadcasts, more money, more money, more status, more status, more power, more power, more relevance.
And the fans?
Oh, well. The fans. There will always be fans, they say. As long as there is hardship, there will be fans. As long as there are masses, there will always be willing gladiators. As long as there is a Cesar, there will be an arena. And as long as there is an arena, there will be “bread and games”. And this world that we are actively destroying with idiotic wars, economic disintegration, with fascist destruction of privacy and individualism, with unresolved social problems (that are easy to resolve were we not so horny for succumbing to the military-industrial complex), this world will always generate sufficient billions of people who enjoy being blindfolded as long as they get the option for a momentary release of their angst, their frustration and their unhappiness. On a weekend, say. At a match. Of The Game.