Remember a couple of months ago I wrote a blogpost about falling out of love with football, in much the same way as I have been falling out of love with politics? Well yesterday’s matchday experience just about tipped me over the edge. I genuinely thought the Cardiff match heralded a new beginning, but it was the same old-same old. With one or two notable exceptions it was a performance lacking commitment and passion. The tactics didn’t work from the opening minute and Allardyce had no idea how to counter the Newcastle way of playing. Even bringing Morrison on at half time had no discernible impact. In addition, the introduction of Carroll for the hapless Diame didn’t change things much.
But it’s the atmosphere which is of just as much concern. Namely, there is none. At all. The Newcastle fans outsung us throughout the match, part from a very loud rendition of Alan Pardew shagging who he wants. Jeremy Nicholas, our erstwhile matchday announcer, has a theory on his BLOG. Admittedly he has a vested interest, but nevertheless…
The standard of announcing and the pre-match build up have fallen to below that should be expected from a Premier League club, particularly one with such a fine reputation for doing things right. We’ve had Monreal of Arsenal announced as Montreal, leading to speculation from The Mirror that a Canadian international was on the bench! Substitutions have been announced that haven’t happened. Worst of all ‘I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles’ has been talked over! That should be a sackable offence in my book. On other occasions ‘Bubbles’ has been played way too early, so the song is over by the time the teams walk out, leaving a gap before the handshake music. Second halves have started in virtual silence, without any kind of rousing call to action. This team needs our help and they are not getting it. The interviews pitchside have been stilted. The introduction of Julien Faubert as a ‘legend’ was laughable. I apologise to Martin Godleman who has filled my shoes as announcer. He’s a smashing bloke and a friend of mine, but it’s just not working out. He wrote a book recently called ‘We’re West Ham United – We Play on the Floor.’ Two things emerged from that book: One is that he never felt comfortable in the announcer’s role, when he filled in for me when Scott Duxbury sacked me in 2008 for a few months. The second is that Martin’s not a fan of the way Sam Allardyce’s teams play football. Nice bloke as Martin is, he’s not the man we need rallying the support behind our club. If I hear Twisted Firestarter at half-time again I think I’ll go mad. We need a rethink of the music to play some old favourites associated with the good times, to get that feelgood factor back. The manager can pick eleven players and seven subs, but at the moment he is being denied that all important twelfth man. The Boleyn can be an intimidating place to come, but not at the moment. Our away support is as magnificent as always, but at home the supporters are being let down by the pre-match build up.
You may think that because of his desire to return as matchday announcer he is overplaying his hand, but I think he has got a very valid point. People who sit around me mutter often about “it not being the same” and they are right. I suspect doing that job is a lot tougher than it looks, but at the moment it’s too local radio. Something needs to happen. And before anyone accuses me of wanting the job for myself, let me rule myself out. I have the self-knowledge to realise that it wouldn’t be my cup of tea and I haven’t got the right voice for it.
Having said all that, it’s not fair just to blame the announcer for failing to whip up an atmosphere. And we can’t just blame it on the performances of the team, it’s also down to us – those who pay good money to watch the rubbish that’s being served up to us. Perhaps we need Karren Brady to do a Delia…