WE SAY ‘NO’ TO FOOTBALL’S SUPER LEAGUE
SPORT of all kinds, whether played or watched, gives us all the chance to dream. As children discovering a talent for football or tennis, athletics or swimming, many hope to one day achieve greatness. And as spectators we all dare to dream that our favourite competitor, our chosen team, can hit the heights.
In football, that dream of following a club in the hope that it can make it to the very top is what sustains fans who watch and support teams from the very lowest level. And, across Europe, we have a system that – in theory at least – allows that possibility. Plymouth Argyle, Exeter City, Torquay United – all could harbour dreams of a playing in, say, a Champions League final. It sounds fanciful, but over the history of the game clubs that were once minnows have grown to be giants, while former giants have shrunk in stature to be a shadow of their former selves.
Yet fans of those once-great clubs, or of clubs that have yet to achieve greatness, still know that the possibility exists of a meteoric rise. Given a generous new owner with deep pockets or an explosion of talent from the players, anything is possible. That’s why die-hard fans keep stumping up for their season-tickets, keep taking their places in the ground on match days. It’s why they keep the faith. Yet that faith has now been dealt a mortal blow.
The news that six of the biggest sides in English football are, with teams from Spain and Italy, planning a breakaway super league to play only each other at the most elite level of competition kills, at a stroke, that hope of a giant-killer rising up the ranks to compete against one of the best. It creates a two-tier system with a glass ceiling that can never be smashed.
Cynics will say that was always the case; that foreign money and overseas owners are interested only in the big brands; that the obscene sums paid to players at the elite level have already undermined the spirit of the beautiful game; that this breakaway bid by the major clubs is an inevitable consequence of a long decline which has removed football so far from its grass roots and its true fans that the game – literally – is up.
But some of the greatest drama in competitive football still comes not from the major matches between two sides at the very top of the game, but in the clashes between the alsorans languishing in the lower leagues versus the fancy dans from the elite. When a club with a household name is forced to come and play on a wet Wednesday night at a muddy ground in some obscure footballing town or city and meet their opponents on level terms, the magic still happens. But will that still be the case if the biggest teams from the UK have succeeded, with their European counterparts, of creating their own little clique of clubs?
The battle is now on for those who currently run the game, in league with the politicians who say they support the status quo, to fight to save the current system that, for all its flaws, keeps those dreams alive. It could also turn out to be a fight for the very soul of football in all its passionate, life-enhancing glory that is sustained – for the true fan – by hopes and dreams.