Last August I went to Southend,
had some drinks and sat in the away end. Or rather, I thought I had. It was only the next
day when I was turning out the pockets of my beer bespattered jeans prior to a thorough
soaking that I realised I was wrong; I hadn’t been sat in the away end at all;
according to the ticket, I’d sat in the Universal Bicycles Stand. Curious.
I let that pass until the Sunday when, on the way to
Chesterfield, the train went past Derby and their spanking new ground. You’ll have
noticed that whenever new grounds are being mooted, they are invariably advertised as
being on a "greenfield development on the edge of town next to the M-whatever",
as if this is somehow a good thing, as though all that we have craved these years is easy
access to motorways. Is this the most serious thing wrong with football? Have we come back
from matches saying, "good day out, granted, and a good result, obviously, but it was
bloody miles from the M1"? Has anybody ever sold the idea of a new ground on the
basis that it’s in the town centre, handy for public transport and near loads of
pubs? Hats off to Derby, then, for actually moving nearer to the centre and closer to the
pubs. Also for a sensible choice of name: Pride Park is the name of the area in which the
ground is built, and is a good name for a ground.
Compare and contrast this with Sunderland’s
pretentious ground name, the Stadium of Light. They are apparently going to justify this
by bathing the roof of the ground in brilliant red and white, an idea which is destined to
remain until the first cash crisis. Sunderland, obviously, have failed to notice that they
were actually relegated from the premier league last season, and are currently plying
their nondescript trade in an inferior division, where such grandiosity appears pompous
and unreal. Each game they lose at their new ground is an opportunity to mock. The fact
that, amid all the nonsense, they failed to get season tickets out on time was a gift to
cynics. I do hope our ex-secretary Mark Blackburn was involved; my dislike of that
careerist swellhead has remained undiminished by the passing years.
I suppose we should give credit that they tried to
think of an original name, even if they did get it horribly wrong. Last summer saw the
Britannia and Reebok stadiums added to the likes of the Cellnet Riverside and the
McAlpine. More grotesquely still, Bradford didn’t even bother to move to change the
name, and Valley Parade now cringes under the inelegant sobriquet of the Pulse Stadium;
when one thinks of the people who died in the fire it strikes an even duffer note.
Crackpot club Birmingham will apparently rename anything, for a price, because the name of
their city no longer seems good enough for them. Of course, such branding prompts idle
speculation of what will happen when the contracts expire. They will have to change the
name again and again, will they? We are a long way from the certainties depicted in the
1970s football map of England and Wales that hangs on my wall.
To think this is wide of the mark, though, because
football grounds are not named by the people who happen to hold the most shares in the
club at the time; football grounds are named by the true moral owners of a club, the
people. The names of grounds, and of the stands that make up those grounds, are organic.
They become popular over time. These days, the only thing that provides football clubs
with a continuity that elevates them above the status of mere businesses is the
supporters. Everything else goes, but the supporters stay. How out of touch are the people
who make the decisions anyway, when you consider that Middlesborough built their Teesside
ground with German steel and Sunderland sold exclusive beer rights to, ahem, Scottish and
Newcastle breweries after years of sponsorship by Vaux?
The ground is a central part of any club’s
identity; it is not a mere piece of property. So, Bradford still play at Valley Parade and
that has not changed. New grounds only have temporary names at the moment. They will
acquire proper ones in time. When they do, it is a fair bet that they will draw from two
sources: the name of the land or road on which the ground is built, or the name of the old
ground. For an example, look at Millwall, who a couple of years ago said they were based
at the New London Stadium (shades of Sunderland), but now appear to be playing at the New
Den, or, for short, the Den. It doesn’t matter what the men who run football tell us;
things are called what we want to call them. Even to this day, for example, West Ham are
alleged to play at the Boleyn Ground, whilst Chesterfield claim to serve up their tedious
football at the Recreation Ground.
No football supporter ever refers to a football ground
as a stadium. Wembley is the only stadium we have in this country; all the rest are
grounds. New grounds always call themselves a stadium, because it sounds better. Even at
the lowest level, clubs who think they’re better than they are do this.
Chester’s "Deva Stadium", for example, is categorically the Deva Ground.
I reckon that, sad though they look next to the new
ones, only the fact that we built those two stands at the turn of the seventies saved us
from the ghastly prospect of a move to the outskirts of town, with a soulless ground with
a highest bidder name. For that, we should be grateful. One of the good things about
Burnley is that the ground is at the heart of the town, mere minutes away from public
transport, non-franchised food establishments and proper pubs. Another good thing is the
name, Turf Moor: simple, plain, redolent, known to all. Muck about with that at your
peril. It is good that those things have not been endangered; Stoke had the longest tenure
at their ground of any league club, yet have now sold out cheaply by moving to a horrid
new place, which, due to a basic error at the planning stage, is unfortunately still in
Stoke. We’re now the second longest, edged out only by Preston, who let you sit on
Tom Finney’s face, and so look like staying.
I suppose if we had had to move to comply with the
Taylor report we wouldn't have got round to giving the ground a name yet, preferring to
wait for a sponsor who might never come. It remains a disgrace that our new stands lack
real names. As an infrequent visitor, these arbitrary labels do not help me find my
bearings, and I always forget to bring my compass. The club should show guts and name the
stands now, regardless of commercial considerations. After twice standing silent for
Princess Diana, it is still shameful that no part of the ground bears the name of Harry
Potts. Other clubs are not so careless with their legends. If sponsorship is desired so be
it, but give the stands names and make clear that it is a condition of sponsorship that
those names remain. I’m even sceptical about whether sponsorship is actually
necessary. I don’t know how much money it might raise, but it cannot be a crucial
amount, because we have managed without it the last year. Football lasted over a hundred
years before everyone decided you needed to stoop to such tawdry levels to get by.
Oh well, at least we can be grateful that our own
ground does not yet boast a Universal Bicycles Stand, or indeed an Amersham and Wycombe
College Stand (Wycombe), a Findus Stand (Grimsby) or a Charlie Brown’s Stand (Pulse
Stadium, now with some other stupid name). Let’s take this opportunity to lord it
over these clubs and revel in a small moment of superiority, as you have to when most
teams are above you and your season is falling apart because you goalscorer’s just
been taken away for no good reason and your central defenders are apparently allergic to
footballs. Crumb of comfort, anyone?
