Search: ' flags'

Dear WSC
While it was an otherwise fairly accurate piece culminating in stating what many of us believe (WSC 232), which is that Neil Warnock is an “offensive gobshite”, Pete Green lets himself down by recycling that old rubbish about Warnock spending his career “picking up ailing clubs off the floor and setting them back on their feet”. Not quite true. In the late Nineties, Stan Ternent guided Bury Football Club from the then Division Three to Division One with successive promotions, and kept us up in Division One while luminaries such as Manchester City were relegated from it (oh how we laughed when we beat them at Maine Road in the process), before buggering off to Burnley and leaving us to the mercy of the “Red Adair” of lower-league football. Warnock’s tenure at Gigg Lane started off in patronising fashion, referring to us as “a smashing little club”. He flooded the team with under-performers he had dragged with him from his previous clubs, turned up at Gigg Lane wearing a Sheffield United club tie while we were paying his wages, got us relegated to Division Two, then skulked off to Bramall Lane, taking some of our better players with him and paying peanuts for them into the bargain. Bury were then relegated to the bottom division, went into administration and nearly out of business. So please spare us the revisionist history about Warnock. If the truth be known, Stan was the Man who turned the Shakers around – Warnock destroyed his work. And yes, I will be looking for Sheffield United to be humiliated in every match they play next season
Howard Cover, Liverpool

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Dear WSC
The Spurs “yids” thing (WSC 230) is indeed well and truly weird. This derogatory term emanated from Arsenal, a club with a proud tradition of support from the large north London Jewish community. As an eight- or nine-year-old, sitting high in the Highbury east stand with my uncle at my first ever game, even my pre-pubescent jewdar was sufficiently sensitive to know I was among my own. These days it’s a London thing. The term is seldom heard from northern fans, whereas one Chelsea fan website, presumably popular as it is on Google’s first page, proudly lists the lyrics to more than 25 (I stopped counting) anti-Semitic songs. In the mid-1970s, some Spurs fans created an incomprehensibly bizarre variant on terrace youth sub-culture by wearing skinhead uniform, skullcaps and Israeli flags. There’s one for all the sociologists out there. I sit in a different east stand now and for years optimistically clung to the notion that, in reclaiming the word, Spurs fans displayed rudimentary class consciousness and solidarity with discriminated groups in our society. This forlorn hope has been shattered in the face of vicious, sustained homophobic chanting, ostensibly related to Sol Campbell’s predicaments. The lip service paid by most clubs to kick out racism seems positively enlightened by comparison, and if we can’t learn anything from all this then the future’s bleak for football.
Alan Fisher, Tonbridge

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Dear WSC
In response to a letter published about the term “mullered” (Letters, WSC 228) and the origins of the word, at the risk of turning WSC into an episode of Balderdash & Piffle, I always felt it appropriate for the term to be linked to fabled West Germany forward Gerd Müller and the team of the early 1970s. Despite being too young to recall “Der Bomber” in his heyday, checking out old videos of him in action (hardly ever leaving the penalty area in a fashion Gary Lineker could only dream of) and a check of his goalscoring feats – 68 goals in only 62 international matches – it seems to tally with my favoured definition of “mullered”, to be comprehensively beaten in a surprising and unimaginative manner. The only other time I have heard of the term “mullered” is in relation to drinking too much alcohol which, sadly, may be linked to the end of Gerd’s career.
Jonathan Paxton, via email

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The Cross of St George may be everywhere but it’s not that long since it was mainly used by extremists – and, as Dan Turner explains, the BNP have stepped into a row at Oldham 

It takes a hell of a story these days to divert Oldham fans away from moaning about their team’s on-field woes. As the most expensively assembled squad of recent times at Boundary Park spent most of the autumn stumbling from one mediocre performance to another, the groans of dissatisfaction from the faithful grew and threatened to come to a head. But just as manager Ronnie Moore’s lump-it-and-pray tactics were leading even the most phlegmatic of Latics to question his position, along came the flag. And never has 18 square feet of material caused such a rumpus.

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"A case of anything goes." Gavin Willacy looks at the laws of yesteryear

There seemed to be little unusual about the game at first. Twenty men of assorted shapes and ages, indulging in a ragged Sunday kick-about on the outer fringes of a south-west London marshland, shooting at goals without crossbars let alone nets, no corner flags or referee, wearing an assortment of knee-length trousers and footwear of varying suitability.

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