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Karl Marx rose from the dead in George A. Romero-like fashion yesterday. He walked out of from his resting place in London’s Highgate cemetery, took a quick look around to survey the scene in and the first thing he did was to retract his famous words, “Religion is the opium of the masses.”
God had well and truly died in this green and pleasant land.
“Football is the opium of the masses,” he told himself.
Karl also found out that what was once the preserve of the English working class, top-flight football, had now become a plaything of bored billionaires and weekend entertainment for the bourgeoisie.
However, the opiate was so strong and powerful, the working class, who grew up loving their clubs and the game over found it difficult to quit what was becoming a very, very expensive habit.
They were first to be exploited because of their love for the game and then eventually excluded, Marx surmised, sagely.
He walked into a lovely Hampstead Heath cafe and picked up a copy of yesterday’s Guardian. There was the confirmation he needed staring back at him in the sport section.
Recently promoted Queen Park Rangers, the plaything of Bernie Ecclestone and Flavio Briatore, rewarded their fans’ loyalty and passion by increasing match day tickets prices to £47–£72.
Season ticket prices increased by an astonishing 40% (Factoring the EPL has six less home games than the Championship, in real terms the increase is 67%)
To justify the price-gouging of their fans, QPR said in a statement: “The board are keen to stress that the prices are in line with other London-based Premier League clubs and are encouraged by early sales figures following the release of season tickets earlier today.”
It was all too much for vice-chairman Amit Bhatia, part of the astronomically rich Mittal family, who own 33 percent of the club. He resigned.
The Guardian spoke to Paul Finney of the Independent R’s website: “It’s an absolute disgrace and, yet again, underlines the total contempt the owners of QPR have for the fans. Flavio Briatore’s dream is a ’boutique’ club, which has an exclusive feel to it and is the place for wealthy people to be seen.”
I’ve heard of boutique stadiums, but a ‘boutique’ club. What is that? you ask.
Well, this is how it will work.
You drive to the stadium in your flash European car, give the keys to the African refugee who will park the car, go to the bar, order your complimentary prawn sandwich and cocktail of choice, take the complimentary straw and use it to put some Charlie up your nose, get to your seat in the 30th minute, watch a bit of football, half time, get another drink in, another line, feeling great, try and pick up the WAGs’ friends, not your lucky day, sit back down in the 70th minute, watch a bit of football, oh, we’re losing 1-0, no point hanging around to see if the team can level, leave ground in the 80th minute, get African refugee to return your car, drive back home to the wife.
Boutique fans for a boutique club and all this can be yours at Loftus Road in the not too distant future.
Sure you’ll pay through the nose, but at least you won’t have to deal with the lumpen proletariat in Briatore’s world. They can make do with a satellite dish.
P.S I would like to dedicate this piece to AFC Wimbledon. The supporter owned club gained promotion to the Football League. Six promotions in nine season after the club they supported was broken up and sold to Milton Keynes. Wimbledon manager Terry Brown “As much as anything, it’s good to give the FA a bloody nose”. Congratulations!
Art Sapphire is the pseudonym for Athas Zafiris, and is on Twitter @ArtSapphire
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