I am a football fan but I have a confession. I am a traitor. Ive switched allegiances not once, but twice. Any fan will tell you this crime is relatively rare and to have performed it twice is almost unheard of. So why do I consider myself above the laws of football fandom? Well my story starts from a very early age. Being a year older than me, I worshipped my next-door neighbour like a God growing up. Everything he did I automatically did, and one of those things was support Manchester United. Now he couldve supported Liverpool (my uncles were adamant I would be a Liverpool fan before finally giving up after the third replica shirt purchase), Arsenal or even Wolverhampton Wanderers and I wouldve done the same. Luckily, for most of my childhood I supported the most successful team of all time including an extra late night watching United complete the treble. Well at least most of it, I missed Sheringhams goal because I was crying in the toilet. It was after the treble that the seeds of discontent started to set in. My faith in my deity was fading as I matured and being from the South of England I had yet to watch my beloved United play live. I also had a distinct dislike for Roy Keane. It was so long ago now that I cant actually remember my reasons why, I just hated him. I decided that if Roy wasnt gone by the end of the season (2002 I believe) I was going to give up supporting United and find a local team that I could go and watch. It was a rash decision Im sure youll agree, but then Liverpool fans defend Luis Suarez integrity as a human being, we all make mistakes.
Choosing my new team was a difficult decision but I eventually settled on QPR. My Stepfather was an avid Chelsea fan, only denying his fandom once when a Millwall fan had a knife to his throat, and maybe it was a dig at him or maybe it was the fact it cost £4 for me to get in and my parents would let me GO TO LONDON by myself at the age of 12 (for a boy from Staines this is a huge deal) but Loftus Road eventually became my home. I found friends there and even managed to get some of my friends to come with me. Those trips up to London are some of my fondest memories and the thrill of actually watching the team I supported was second to none, patting Dexter Blackstock on the back when he jumped into the crowd after an incredible volley against Preston North End is one of the highlights of my football watching career. Without going into too much detail, QPR were then made one of the richest clubs in world football through acquisition. Yes we saw success but if Im honest it felt hollow. We sold players who were institutions and replaced them with mavericks and idiots, we traded the club badge that meant so much to me for something that looks like it came from freefootballbadgecreator.com and we went through managers with more enthusiasm and flair than Chelsea (Jim Magiltons headbutt sacking is my personal favourite). The hollowness also came from the fact that I couldnt shake the feeling we had bought success. No we hadnt machine gun sprayed cash like PSG or Manchester City but we had essentially bought the Championship and our promotion. Things became indefensible when tickets started to cost £30, our captain was Joey Barton and we had Kieron Spit-Roast Dyer on the payroll. Coupled with a life move to Manchester meaning that I couldnt even watch my team play, lest they be on Sky Sports embarrassing themselves, I started to fall out of love once again. The club I was watching was not the club I loved, it was a corporate mess, and its soul lay tattered under the feet of thousands on South Africa Road. I imagine a similar feeling is felt by the Salzburg Red Bulls fans who had their entire club history book ripped up to be used as a marketing tool to sell sugar water. By the time I was settled in Manchester, QPR were almost at the back of my mind. For the first time in 10 years I didnt care about who we signed in the summer and more importantly I didnt care about our results. For a fan of a team just promoted to the top flight, this wasnt exactly normal behaviour. I stayed in denial until the beginning of last season, hearing results through friends and pretending to care when we won (although I must say sticking it to Arsenal, Chelsea and Tottenham in the last few games of the season were beautiful moments). By last summer I had almost lost all ties. We gifted the league to City (some of my United blood still runs in there) and we had managed to sack the manager who had given us everything. Now we lie in tatters, relegated and paying Jose Bosingwa money. And I dont care one bit. One of my house mates in Manchester is the biggest United fan youll ever meet. He knows EVERYTHING about them. I mean that in a literal sense (well, not quite everything). He is one of those people with a ridiculous memory for football and remembers things that happened in his life by the season that it happened in. He hasnt been to Old Trafford since 2007. Ive watched him smash a full bottle of beer against the floor and push someone over all in the name of United and yet he has only watched them play live once in the last 6 years. The reason? The Glazer Family.
My friend was one of the many who decided to boycott United after they were bought by the thrifty Americans. He hasnt been back and despite his love for United probably never will. Instead he supports the plucky FC United of Manchester, the team that was set up by United fans who were tired of being fleeced and having their football club prised from their hands. Since their inception I had heard rumours of ridiculously massive crowds filling into tiny stadiums and was always intrigued about going down and seeing what all the fuss was about. Within 2 games I was an FC United fan. Watching lower league football is a breath of fresh air and this season has been a whirlwind. Qualification to the FA Cup First Round proper was stopped at the final hurdle and hopes of promotion to the Conference North were cruelly snatched away in the play-off final but success is just a part of the experience. Having been to many home games this season, Ive started to recognise faces around the ground and have even had the pleasure of meeting one of the founders, the manager and some of the backroom staff, all of whom have been extremely friendly and outwardly grateful for my support. To have done this at any of my previous two clubs I would have to have been extremely rich or extremely lucky. In fact the closest Ive ever been to Ferguson is the width of the pitch at Stamford Bridge and the closest Ive ever been to a QPR manager was on one of those very lucky occasions that happen once in a blue moon. There also isnt the same sense of negativity that you feel at a Premier League ground. We rarely attack anyone in song but the referee or the opposition goal keeper (YOU FAT BAST.). Ive not heard a groan or a moan once all season and no one has ever shouted instructions at our players in a drunken stupor in ear shot of me. When the opposition score we dont break our chanting, drowning out the travelling fans (theres only about 10 of them on average anyway). One of my favourite chants is (to the tune of Consider Yourself from Oliver Twist) Consider yourself FC, Consider yourself part of the family, and if you lose, we dont care, because well, still, follow you everywhere which is often sung for the last 10 minutes on repeat at the end of a losing tie. Compare this to Old Trafford (which I finally visited for the first time this year) where the loudest noise the crowd made all game was when Nani made a mistake. There were times when I was actually whispering because the ground was so quiet. I pay £8 to get in and I am welcomed into the ground by volunteer scouts who see the humour and harmlessness in people setting of a few flares, not penned in by policemen on horses. I dont have to worry about my safety and I dont pay silly money for a pie. After every single game the players and staff doing a half lap of honour (we only have enough fans to fill 2 stands of Bury FCs Gigg Lane) thanking us for our support and it feels genuine, not like when Samir Nasri thanks the fans in a post-match interview disingenuous afterthought. The sense of community is incredible and when the attendance flashes up on the screen (usually around 1,500) you feel like your number matters and isnt but a drop in the ocean.
My plea to you is to have a look at your local community and find a team to support, perhaps the one named after your home town. Yes, supporting Grantham or Chorley might not be the most glamorous way to spend your Saturday afternoon but chances are if you support a big team youll still be able to watch them since Sky decided 3pm kick offs are for idiots. Now that TV revenue has gone up to over £3 billion for the Premier League teams, they dont need your money anymore, in fact for a long time it hasnt been their primary revenue source. Dont just be a number on the bottom line, dont allow football to be so self-important that it will go against the will of a country just so people can see it (see Brazil World Cup protests). Dont bother going to these huge stadiums, watch Match of the Day. Save money, help your local team with some much needed ticket revenue and more importantly enjoy football in its rawest form. Oh, and they still let people tackle as well.