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Justice Taylor suggested a £6 ceiling should suffice. Fat chance. “Progress” allowed us to be squeezed like lemons till the pips squeak. Be careful, football: finance is finite, and our entertainment options have never been broader.
 A scarf is the physical carrier of the tribal emblem under which we march into figurative battle. It shouldn’t have the other lot’s badge on it. Even if it’s a final.
The footballing equivalent of blue-badge abusers, these mardy sods roll about until they either con the ref or waste enough time. Some might suggest convicted feigners should be inflicted with an equal injury. We just suggest they grow up.
Oi! I’ve paid good money here, mate! Even when it’s your own team doing it, you should be racked by twin fears: one, the death of joy; two, the chance they might lose it and the opposition will score a goal applauded in heaven.
Time is money. In most games the ball is out of play for somewhere between 30 and 45 minutes; don’t deprive us of our last knockings, the final sip of the drink, the concluding mouthful of ice cream. Extend our fun. And count all the substitutions, dammit.
For tragic reasons, a generation has grown up without knowing the joy of (safe) terracing. The atmosphere. The conversations. The flexibility. The connection to a tradition. We can do this. We should do this. Pop down the pyramid, try it, and live a little. Stretch your legs.
Back in the day, West Ham’s change kit might go unseen for most of the season. Now we get carefully choreographed release schedules and a “first chance to see”. It’s nonsense, and it’s designed to bilk us. Our club, our badge, our colours.
Talent-farming will always happen, but there’s something particularly sad about the hopes of youngsters being cultivated and then cropped for purely financial gain. It’s capitalism gone mad, and our children are the victims.
Manchester United have official partners for digital transformation, global lubricant and fuel retail, coffee, hotel loyalty, mattresses and pillows, logistics, music, spirits, wine, tyres, medical systems, electrical styling, denim, ‘vision’ and paint. They have a paint partner.
Some of the ideas and intentions were good, but their ham-fisted application and tin-eared explanation have led to a widespread revolt through the fans’ greatest underused strength: withdrawal of support.
Many things are hyperbolised as offensive. Racism actually is offensive, and so is UEFA’s half-arsed wrist-slapping for some of the vilest filth ruining our game. The money’s there. Confiscate it and give it to suitable charities.
TV couldn’t wait to introduce it. Now it’s the gift that keeps giving. Badly applied, poorly explained and ill-defined, it’s threatening to ruin the single greatest thing that gets us all watching: the post-goal moment of ecstasy.
“He’s finished it really well.” Thanks mate, we can see that. Tell us what we don’t know. No really, tell us what only you, who played at the highest level, can bring to the conversation which is more perceptive than the fat-arsed bloke at the end of the bar.
It’s hard to be a hero when you’re a walking ad-hoarding, every square inch of your upper body plastered with logos. Rwanda’s president paid £30m for his country’s name to grace the bulging biceps of the Arsenal squad.
It’s not a perfect metric, neither wholly qualitative nor quantitative. But most of those who deride it do so because they don’t understand it and don’t like change. Anger comes from fear: in this case, it’s that the world is passing you by, Graeme.
Painfully behind the times, fading into obscurity, yet oblivious to his obsolescence, Keys tries desperately hard with his Year 9 IT project of a blog. Alas, he and Andy Gray are more irrelevant than irreverent.
These used to be dull because players were knackered, untalkative and not particularly illuminating. Now they’re almost always dull because players are untalkative, not particularly illuminating and have been media-trained to say nothing. Forget it.
The deliberately trailed leg is football’s equivalent of the ambulance chaser, the spam email, the scammer who robs your granny or the vampire at the window. Being invited in by the unwary is not a justification for shithousery. Stop endorsing it.
When heads were last counted, FIFA had 211 member countries. If almost a quarter of them qualify, it’s less an elite competition and more a bloated beanfeast. And that’s before we get into the maths of three-team groups: does nobody remember the Disgrace of Gijon?
SportPesa. Laba360. Dafabet. FXPro. ManBetX. aap3. 12BET. 138.com. Fun88. M88. 188BET. 818.com. 888sport. One of those is made up, but do you even know which? Whatever happened to good old-fashioned sponsors like Nobo and Broxap? Oh.
Boo the clubs for stockpiling kids, but at some point players have to get off the pot. Todd Kane has been at Chelsea since under-8 level. He’s never appeared for the first team but has had eight different loan clubs. He’s 25. It’s time, Todd.
Spoilsports. Don’t give us excuses about invasion of privacy, avoidance of tax, evasion of pressure. We want to know our entertainers’ pricetag because we the fans helped pay for them, whether by tickets, TV deals or your endless merchandising opportunities. Your spend might be net; ours is gross.
Hot takes. Selective memories. Unacknowledged U-turns. Confirmation bias. Unfettered bias. Social-media recycling. Misleading headlines. Controversy-stoking. Fatuous space-filling. Not only can journalism be better than this, it must.
You say: ‘a time-honoured way of running down the clock’. We say: Phil Foden has played 139 minutes across 15 Premier League appearances. Won’t somebody think of the statistics?
An increased emphasis on gambling responsibly is welcome. Unfortunately, the pervasiveness of betting ads, before and during a match, totally undermines it. And that’s before you consider the morally grey area of news outlets having associated bookmakers. Luckily, next season it won’t be so prevalent.
This isn’t ageism, but meritocracy. There are Proper Football Men who are now stealing a living at the expense of people who are more interesting and intelligent, not to mention less bitter and outdated. Rejuvenation is required.
Pointless statistics run amok – their first Boxing Day away win since 2007! – but far worse is the deliberately misleading statistic, (ab)used to make a point.
These serve two terrible purposes: stopping debate and starting fights. One particularly pernicious betting company tweeted last September: “Celtic 1-0 Rangers – a disappointing result, but a huge day out for a small club like Rangers.” Why are you here, exactly?
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QUIZ! Can you name the three most capped players at every Premier League club?
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