The following was published in news.com.au site.
They suck: A fan vents his fury on a pathetic band of no-hopers otherwise known as a football team
MY football team is coming last.
The young guys aren’t up to it yet, the old guys never really were, while the mid-career guys at the peak of their careers are reaching peaks more Kosciuszko than Everest.
Our attackers can’t attack, our defenders can’t defend and our genius new coach is a genius only on a whiteboard.
A promising player we dumped last year is the form player of the whole competition at his new club, the players we buy from other clubs are washed-up nobodies, while our players who excel in rep games can barely turn their jumpers inside-out without assistance at club level.
The CEO walked out mid-season, our finances are shot, the two factions of the board hate each other, the fans hate the factions, and nobody is convinced that the 15-year-old joint venture was a good idea in the first place.
We have no real home ground to speak of, no crowds at any of the grounds, the pies are cold, the beer is warm, and our club jumpers are stupidly ugly.
Oh, and our lower-grade team has also lost more games than it’s won this year so there’s no hope for the future either.
Meanwhile, tonight our first-grade team takes on the form team of the competition — on live television. Which means half of Australia will be able to squirm in embarrassment right there alongside us.
Just a few more weeks and we’ll secure that treasured piece of timberware, the wooden spoon.
Remarkable, we’ve never yet won a spoon. We do, however, hold the enviable record of making the finals just three times in 16 years.
In a salary cap era when all teams have the same theoretical chance to get their you-know-what together, that’s almost a statistical impossibility.
Ah, but give it time, say the people who know.
After our CEO walked, some faceless suit on the board issued the following piece of corporate gobbledygook: “We look to take the next step in our evolution and a fresh approach to take us to the next level as a professional, world-class sporting organisation.”
World class? I’d settle for suburban class. Meanwhile, the coach is said to be “putting a big emphasis on performances and not worrying about the result”.
Come again? He’s not worried about the result? Is this guy a football coach or a hippie?
The coach apparently also said, “People outside this club don’t really know what we’re doing.”
He’s right. Nobody knows. Although at a glance, your best guess would be: nothing.
Word from club insiders is that the coach has now officially decided to let the young guys play “ad lib” footy.
This, surely, is the clearest sign yet that the coach has given up. I have no idea! Forget the whiteboard! Do whatever you like!
In fairness, it’s not that we’re playing badly for the whole game. As the coach said last week, the 15 minutes before half-time and the 15 afterwards are the main problem. He might also have added the 25 minutes before and after those periods.
So OK, yeah. It is the whole game.
These are dark times. But it’s also a bright period and here’s why.
No, not because next year will be different. Like the cold pies, we don’t buy that anymore.
The reason things are looking up is that fans of good teams get antsy at this time of year. As their team jockeys for position in the top eight, life becomes stressful. Every moment counts. You relive every error and lament the narrow losses like the passing of a friend.
Fans of my club understand that life is stress free by July. You have no expectations, no anxiety. Late winter is much less demanding on the nervous system than March and April when you still harbour deluded hopes of success.
All the same, it’d be nice for the team to do well occasionally. Just once in a while. If only to have something to look forward to in September apart from the warmer weather.
Is that really too much to ask?