As readers of these pages will be aware, the à souffle de butt coverage of the Association game by certain of our Sunny-ADHD-guzzling Quatrième État is a curious, slightly tacky-to-the-touch phenomenon.
Take, pray do, the example above: a portion of the website of one of Britain’s most moderately popular newspapers, which I shan’t name because the anonymous organ in question is hardly alone in adopting the approach I am about to describe. Suffice to say, the name of the paper ends with he Times.
The headline encapsulates, with such startling acuity that it practically stabs you in your unworthy eye, the glory that came Burnley’s way as a large number of pounds sterling was deposited in their account. Joy was loosed and humorous slogans t-shirted as the bank sent notice that the money transfer had been successfully accomplished. In scenes redolent of Arsenal’s open-top bus parade through the streets of Islington after their sponsorship deal with Emirates Airlines was confirmed, or the spontaneous parties that broke out in Manchester when United’s “2-in-1″ replica shirt was released, or the global week of rejoicing that followed that trade agreement between the US and the EU, or—
Wait a minute, you are doubtless saying to your computer screen, worrying the person beside you at the library — none of that actually happened, did it? And that, my friend who is about to be approached by the librarian and asked if something is the matter, is my point. Despite the fact that one of the oldest teams in football (a founder member of the Football League, no less) is back in the top flight for the first time in three decades; despite the fact that, not so very long ago, the club was but one game away from being flushed out of the League altogether; despite the fact that the club represents a town whose entire population could attend a game at Wembley and still leave room for enough rich people who don’t care about football to make the event financially viable — despite all this, the newspaper would have us believe that the best way to express this wonderful achievement is in terms of a cash sum. A sum which, as has been neatly explained elsewhere, is about the same as every other team in their new division will receive anyway.
The dubbing of the Championship playoff final as The Richest Game In Football is a function of the Premier-centric nature of football coverage. Media outlets have such a large stake in promoting the Premier League that such an opportunity to worship the fertility of the Promised Land is readily taken up. Somehow, we can’t be trusted to understand the game on a purely sporting level, even though this, surely, is how we respond most primally and instinctively to it. No, no: here’s A REALLY BIG NUMBER FOLLOWED BY THE WORD “POUNDS” to drive the importance of the match home to you, like a pencil rammed up your nose. The corollary of this is that while the winner gets to amble past the velvet rope, the loser may as well wallow in the stream of vomit in the gutter, for all the media care. By gleefully emphasising the grand prize, the message to everyone outside is that their very existence is bereft of meaning. And though the occasion, and the focus on its financial aspects, would appear to be a great opportunity to discuss the chasm between the Premier League and the rest of football, when it is mentioned, the subtext is usually to press home the supremacy of the big league. I mean, you wouldn’t want to be a downer, would you?
What’s most notable to me is that — and correct me if I’m wrong, dear reader — most people don’t think of sport like this. Not that we run away from considering the financial side of sport as if we were a referee who had just refused to award a penalty and, who’s that running after us? Is that a grizzly bear? Jesus Christ, it’s Michael Ballack! Get a move on! It certainly ought to be discussed. Indeed, the average lover of sport, not just of football in these interesting times, gains a decent grasp of economics just by following sport. But what matters most is the sport itself. The headlines may try to suck the romance out of the event by turning it into an accountancy contest (”You join us live here from the Cayman Islands…”), but the media remains curiously out-of-touch when it comes to the Championship playoffs. For all the talk of the £60 million, how many of us thought of it when the final whistle blew at Wembley?
Fredorrarci writes an excellent blog at Sport is a TV Show. Amongst the wide-ranging posts, we rather like the Champions League Final Stabbini Index and the overarching ambition of Peter Kenyon.
top, top post as always, jeff.