Walter Tuffy
Red
SO, as we enter the final furlong, the leading horses seem intent on falling at every given moment. We have had a procession of Devon Loch-type incidents as all of the three donkeys slip up, sometimes in most amusing ways.
So who now for the title that nobody wants to win? The Chavs still have to be favourites even after their gutless display against Spurs. However, they travel to Anfield on the May bank holiday weekend, and a defeat could hand the title to the Mancs. This throws up all kinds of Machiavellian possibilities, but lest anyone forget, we did beat Blackburn back on the last day of the 1994/95 season to hand the title to the Mancs, only for Andy Cole – God bless him – to hand it to Rovers.
Most Irish-based Reds hate all things Manc-related with a capital H, and would be in two minds if a 2010 version of Jamie Rednapp’s superb free kick was re-enacted against Chelsea. However, seeing that spineless git John Terry lifting ‘our’ trophy might just be too much. So we are damned if we do and damned if we don’t. But our Scouse friends across the pond have an utter contempt for all things Chav, from JT to Boris Johnson, and detest with gusto their false southern swagger.
It’s rather like the differences between our Munster rugby stock and that of the Leinster D4 brigade. So there exists a large portion of red Scousers who, given the dreaded choice, would opt for the Mancs, and would justify it as respect for a club not very different to us in a lot of ways. At least they have a history and a loyal fan base not composed of jumped-up west end jolly boys.
The season is well over for us, and with news of Torres’s surgery, there is little to look forward to. So our devilish little minds have to be filled with some idiotic drivel from Fleet Street, and the continuing saga over the sale will fill many an otherwise barren column over the summer.
We would all welcome a sugar daddy, but would that make us just a rich man’s plaything. Surely we have to aspire to more noble heights. The most obvious alternative to a sugar daddy or venture capitalists would be for the clubs to be owned by the fans, à la Barcelona. There are drawbacks, such as the over-hyped presidential elections every two years, where each candidate promises the sun, moon and stars. It’s a bit like Fianna Fáil in 1977 – and look what happened there.
For this system to work, a grouping of supporters must be assembled together to buy the present owners out and then set an agenda for the future: membership fees, ticket options and the new stadium. The figures do look daunting, but if 50,000 supporters are willing to invest £10,000 each, then we could wave bye bye to the Yanks. A further £1,000 per season would provide £50,000,000 in transfer fees. Of course these figures are excessive, but each share could be valued at £10,000 each and the annual fee could garner some rights to tickets, etc.
This all seems eminently doable, so why has there been no rush to organise such a grouping? Or are we so in love with capitalism that we assume that it will cure the problem? My friends, it is this same system that has got us in this hole in the first place – and I don’t just refer to our great club on this one.
