Imagination, big clubs and “the basics.”

Standard disclaimer: this is about football and should only be read
by the intellectually feeble. Intelligent people may get a nasty sprain
and an odd sensation in their pelvis. Ignore this and have a bit of a
lie down…

I note with pain my football team’s stumble back into the lower half
of the Premiership table. The pain is exacerbated by the news that we
have also fallen below the all-conquering, almighty never-won-anything
self proclaimed biggest club of all time: Newcastle.

If there is one thing that annoys me about people who support teams
that have not won anything in ten years (mine included) or, in fact,
ever (Newcastle) it is the “big club debate.” Are we a big club? Aren’t
we a big club? Do people care about us. Do they even know who we are?
Will we still get a Christms card from Europe if we don’t qualify? Will
someone invite us to the Prom? Boo hoo. Sniffle.

I do, of course, have to allow a little leeway for people who get
into this debate who support Spurs. They are obviously people of good
character and discerning tastes temporarily diverted into worthless
conversation through frustration and disappointment. They therefore
should not be beaten over the head for 16 hours straight with Anne
Robinson like certain whingers from Newcastle and England’s “second
city” (what the fuck does that mean, anyway?), merely given exasperated
looks, committed to an asylum or strictly avoided.

Ultimately I don’t give a crap if we’re not a big club as long as we
play good football and occasionally win a cup here or there. I would
like to see us perform above the individual abilities of our players,
not below. That is, after all, the aim of any team. As it stands we are
a camp, wealthy, old, white cock-rel with no imagination looking up an
‘orrible coal-miner’s poop-shoot. Surely we can do better? At least
Arsenal speaks a foreign language! Or, more to the point, can speak a
language.

And here, stuck 10,000 miles away I am starting to suspect that my
incessant screaming and violent outpourings at the television are not
getting through to the dugout at White Hart Lane. Inconceivable as this
may seem I ask if the point might be made by a new chant from the
stands, a new message to our dear old Martin Jol. Perhaps in the form
of the chorus to a dubious 80’s hit:

Imagination - could make a man of you

Imagination - could make [us] love you too

Imagination - is all [we] want from you!

Belouis Some- Imagination

This weekend we get to play Reading, I believe. In the world of “big
clubs” they are a team worth slightly less than a farthing- currently
sitting 5 places and 7 points above us in the league. So fellas, the
round thing is called a ball: we want you to place into the back of
that supported net thingy at the other side of the field a good few
times this weekend. Yes, Robinson, yes. Just like Manchester United did
to us the other day. Well done, well noticed.

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