The five ages of being a football fan

[VB]

 https://www.theguardian.com/football/when-saturday-comes-blog/2017/apr/26/five-ages-being-football-fan-non-league-supporter
           

There are five ages to being a football fan. In Age One, you are the wide-eyed innocent in your father's wake, awestruck at every kick, scream and swearword. In the Second Age, you are the young teenager at the game with mates, gleefully and liberally squawking those same swearwords. In Age Three, in your late teens and early 20s, you are the detached, laconic observer, trying to pretend that you don't care by laughing at your team's failures, all the while hurting underneath.

In the Fourth Age, now in your 30s and 40s, perhaps with a family of your own, you prefer to sit and analyse, making frequent references to players and games from the past. You have reached peak wisdom, because in Age Five, as you hit middle age and beyond, you feel that your loyalty and longevity entitle you to do and say whatever the hell you want. Pay 30-plus quid for a ticket? Why the hell should I? Bollocks to that, I'm off to watch the North East Counties League.

Those grimacing pensioners you see at every non-League ground are not just decoration for authenticity's sake. It's you and me, in the future. Maybe even now. It's the logical reward for years of emotional hardship, and all that time and money you invested in teams that would only ever pay you back in the currency of disappointment. I recently caught a glimpse of Age Five, and it's a comforting place to be.

On a recent Saturday morning in north Lincolnshire, my dad and I contemplated the fixture list for our afternoon's entertainment. Lincoln had already played the night before, and both Grimsby and Scunthorpe were away. So were Louth Town, Gainsborough Trinity, Brigg Town, Lincoln United and Lincoln Moorlands. The final choice was between Hull City v Crystal Palace and Barton Town Old Boys v Bridlington Town in the FA Cup extra preliminary qualifying round.

Two decades earlier, we wouldn't have hesitated to head off to Hull. On this day, we opted for a country drive, a spot of lunch with a pint of ale and then a game featuring lots of blokes called Phil, Dave, Tom and Steve. Not for us the cosmopolitan cut-and-thrust of a high-level encounter in a rocking stadium. We wanted a place where we could sit back, belch, and then smile as the rest of the crowd turned around to see who'd made all that noise. The idea of Hull and 18,000 other fans seemed like too much bother.

The whole matchday experience has become too intense. You can no longer amble up to the gate just before kick-off, hand over your cash and find a spot to stand or a seat with a reasonable view. You have to plan, weeks or even months in advance. When buying tickets, you've got to be sure there's enough money in your bank account to cover it. You have to work out how many hours before kick-off you'll need to set out to avoid the traffic, get a parking space and beat the rush. After all, if you've paid all that cash for the privilege, you don't want to miss a single minute. And once you're in, you're stuck with one seat.

And so you decide that it all seems like too much hassle. If you don't bother, you'll save all that money and petrol. You'll save the six hours that going to a 90-minute game now demands. You'll save yourself from drinking cold, crappy beer from a plastic beaker. You'll save yourself from the bloke next to you who hasn't washed his replica shirt since last summer. You'll save yourself from the bloke behind you who is very, very angry about everything that's happening on the field, and plenty more besides. You'll save yourself the disappointment of an unhappy result.

On this particular Saturday, my dad and I left a village pub south of Barton a few minutes before kick-off, parked right outside the ground and paid a total of eight quid to get in. The grumpy old gate man got aggrieved at my dad for having the audacity to ask what colour the home team played in. Programmes were a quid, as were raffle tickets (prizes – a bottle of wine and "a breakfast"). You got to see and hear every grimace, grunt and foul-mouthed scream of frustration. The 138 spectators watched a 2-2 draw, which was three goals more than they had in Hull, where Palace won by virtue of a chiselling own goal.

I can see myself in my twilight years, whiling away autumnal afternoons and sparsely floodlit Tuesday nights to a backdrop of thuds, yells and an occasional twist of real skill. Watching football wherever I feel like it, cheaply and without stress. Shouting out to the lumbering defender: "Oi, Dobson, you're shite!" He turns around and sees an old man. What's he going to do? By Age Five, you've paid your dues to football. It's finally time to stand back with a pint and enjoy the game on your terms.

[YankeeJim]

Well written. I enjoyed it.

[Woolly Mammoth]

I cannot wait to read about age six, or come to think of it, should I.
Well you have talked me into your way of thinking as I am well into age five by all accounts.
So I am off on Saturday to watch the Dog and Duck play Two Bob Rovers and get outside a pint of real English Ale.

[King_Crud]

I'm doing this more and more. Went to Fisher FC on Easter Monday, will be checking out my local team soon: Cray Valley Paper Mills

[Peabody]

What a lovely piece. Never mind stage 6, I feel like I am in stage 7.

[Steven Ageroad]

A delightful read, from an aged sixer.

[toshes mate]

I nearly missed out on Age One as my father initially wouldn't take me.  However several trips with family friends to everywhere but Fulham eventually persuaded him to take me to a game.  I was then entrusted to go to Craven Cottage on my own or with friends but in those days I was walking to and from school two miles away everyday and it wasn't seen as a big deal.  He never returned to Craven Cottage and I never understood why.  I am at Age Five now but I still adore football, Fulham and everything about Craven Cottage.  You'll also catch me at smaller clubs too with Tooting & Mitcham's ground a brisk walk away and Sutton none too far.  Even managed AFC Wimbledon on a few occasions too.  Love casual game watching at the local park too.         

[bobbo]

Great read,I'm also an age 5'er and very much do what you did. I take my own club I played for years back AFC Hayes, and frequent uxbridgeand chalfont St. Peter.

[Peabody]

Great read,I'm also an age 5'er and very much do what you did. I take my own club I played for years back AFC Hayes, and frequent uxbridgeand chalfont St. Peter.

Where you there with Jimmy Langley Bobbo?

[bobbo]

Was I where Peabody? Do you mean Fulham? Sorry mate not sure wher you mean mate

[Peabody]

Was I where Peabody? Do you mean Fulham? Sorry mate not sure wher you mean mate

Perhaps I am mixing up Hayes with AFC Hayes but Hayes is what I meant. Either way, JL was a great servant. Sorry for the confusion

[bobbo]

Was I where Peabody? Do you mean Fulham? Sorry mate not sure wher you mean mate

Perhaps I am mixing up Hayes with AFC Hayes but Hayes is what I meant. Either way, JL was a great servant. Sorry for the confusion

yes Peabody he played for Hayes and a few other local clubs but AFC Hayes were formerly brookhouse fc and we changed name back about 8 years ago. Not my decision though.

[MikeW]

Didn't Jimmy L also manage Hillingdon Borough at one time? In the Southern League?  Sure I remember them coming to Cheltenham Town in days of yore