Families should not have to shut up and take abuse from stands

Tony Adams’s late father, Alex, had to stop watching his son play for England in the early 1990s because he could not take the “ee-aw” taunts, in an era when the insult of choice for a centre-half was “donkey”. Alex had been a good amateur footballer, a tough east London boy who set up a roofing business, so if he could not take it, what chance others?

Eric Dier is understood to have stormed into the stand at Tottenham Hotspur on Wednesday to defend his younger brother, Patrick. Dier may be the first footballer in a long time to try to protect his family that way, but he is by no means the first who has thought about doing so. Many will often tell you that it is much easier being on the pitch than sitting in the stand listening to fans vent about a son, husband or brother.

In his second autobiography, Steven Gerrard describes the vicious reaction of a group of men he refuses to call Liverpool fans after his own goal in the 2005 League Cup final against Chelsea. In the crowd, his mother, Julie, and wife, Alex, heard the accusations that he was a “traitor”, coming as it did during a period when Chelsea were pushing hard to sign Gerrard. “I could deal with that,” he wrote, “but it really hurt when Mum told me… [those fans] started chanting that Alex was a slut; a slag. They had no idea that they were sitting so close to my wife and my mum.”

Peter Crouch, already 6ft 7in at 19 in his early career with Queens Park Rangers in the Championship, was routinely subjected to a song declaring him a “freak”. It was depressing enough for him, but even worse for his parents, Bruce and Jayne. “It was really hard for Dad when people had a go at me,”

Crouch recalled in his first book. “I may have been a professional footballer, but I was still his son.”

The list goes on. With Liverpool 2-1 down at half-time of the 2006 FA Cup final, and Jamie Carragher having scored an own goal, his father, Philly, was unable to prevent himself reacting to a comment from a fellow supporter in the lavatories at what was then the Millennium Stadium. An altercation ensued. As a robust Liverpudlian family, the Carraghers generally adopted a rapid-rebuttal approach. For other football parents, or families, it is much more difficult.

The issue is a delicate one, given that most supporters regard players and their families as belonging beyond the velvet ropes of the VIP section. They are the people benefiting from the huge salaries of the modern era, the complimentary tickets and the

‘It was hard for Dad when people had a go at me. I was a footballer but I was still his son’

general privileges of the 21stcentury footballer. While there is undoubtedly some truth in that perception, it remains an unusual agony to witness a loved one’s mistakes in a public forum in which open, pervasive, spittleflecked abuse is not so much a convention as an expectation.

The modern football parent will have spent much of their child’s academy years as a glorified taxi driver. They will have been through the annual anxiety of rejection, then the wait for a scholarship, then a professional contract, which is only a given for a very small elite. They will often wonder if it is all worth it.

Then finally, when all the sacrifices have paid off, and their child is a professional footballer, their small allowance of free tickets will allow them to hear first-hand the unvarnished opinions of supporters, as well as millions more voices on social media. Part of the job? So they are told, and the professional contract will clearly be a consolation. But it is a wonder that there are not more incidents.

Footballers were subject to stick even in the days when they could smoke a Woodbine on the tram home without fear of a picture finding its way on to social media. Now the great riches on offer, and the occasional very public consumption of wealth by the men who command the top salaries, is part of a greater disconnect between the game and its fans. There is something different about it: more visceral, more angry, speaking to the notion of a debt that can never be repaid by the majority of players to fans who see their money going on expensive tickets and pay-tv subscriptions.

Spurs announced a hefty rise in season-ticket prices last month, unfortunate timing given the team’s current struggles. All the evidence suggests that there will not be lots of money to spend on new signings in the summer. Small details but ones which, at any club, can contribute to a change of mood, or an expiration of goodwill.

At the other end of the stadium on Wednesday night, the Norwich City fans will not have given a second thought to matters such as Tim Krul’s salary. The FA Cup victory secured by their team is the joyous moment that match-going supporters live for. Meanwhile, Spurs fans were experiencing the opposite – a moment of recrimination in which it is possible to imagine players simply as proxies for one’s frustrations.

Caught in the middle can be the families. The proud parents from ordinary backgrounds, the siblings, the partners, who recognise the privilege of being a footballer but also know what it costs to get there. The unsaid expectation, sadly, is that they shut up and take it.