Last round’s EPL clash of the titans had all the hallmarks of a ‘big game’ – star players, David Moyes’ job potentially on the line, and the ladder leaders Arsenal at Old Trafford against a desperate Manchester United.
Hundreds of millions viewers around the globe tuned in live, all vitally involved in the clash and its outcome.
Not me, though – another big game had my attention and the anticipation was high. When Southampton took on Hull City, my team, the Saints, had the wondrous opportunity to climb to third in the English Premier League.
An emphatic 4-1 triumph made it so. Pride is too small of a word.
Ask most Australians who they support in the EPL and there’s a certain sad predictability about their responses. The “English soccer” will probably be the first clarification. “Oh, Manchester,” comes a common answer, sometimes followed by “United”.
There’s always a good chance of Chelsea, Liverpool (among an older generation brought up on the 70s and 80s glory days), perhaps Arsenal and, among today’s teens, Manchester City.
The popularity and subsequent disappearance of Leeds shirts over the last decade is telling.
Many (not all I stress) of these teams’ support is ‘plastic’. The plastic supporter is not tied to the team by geography, family, genuine commitment or experience. The plastic is the quintessential glory hunter.
They know that they ‘like’ (in an almost Facebook way) Manchester United, but when asked why, the answer will invariably be shallow.
My lifelong support for Southampton is viewed quizzically by many, often with a staggering indifference.
“Who?” is by far the main question. “Do they play in the Premier League?”
That, or a simple and often arrogantly tinted “Why?”, are what usually greet my support for Saints.
For far too many of the Australian sporting public, being a plastic is quite okay. They don’t really follow the EPL like they do the NRL, AFL or other homegrown codes, so their desire to board a successful bandwagon is not surprising.
It’s the ‘big clubs’ who get the media attention and glory. Genuinely supporting a small club isn’t fashionable or easy, but by God when we do well, there’s a lot to enjoy.
Plastic supporters of big clubs know little of suffering. Southampton have dragged me through various relegation scraps, heartbreaking cup knockouts, relegation, financial ruin, managerial chaos, administration, another relegation into League One (the old third tier) and complete anonymity.
Searching the fine print of the results page to a find a home draw with Halifax Town is genuinely joyless.
I’ll try to address the “why?” In 1976 as a nine year old, I was allowed to sit up to midnight to watch the FA Cup Final.
Wembley Stadium. Mass singing in unison. Abide With Me. Sdvertising hoardings of Mornflake Oats and other strange products.
A Game one assumed to be their grand final and a win for Southampton that the commentator likened to David slaying the entire Goliaths bikie gang. That’ll do me for a team.
Believe it or not, English football did exist before Fox Sports and the Premier League. The ABC provided week-old coverage of The Road to Wembley and Match of the Day – a day in the last month or so, to be fair – of Division One Football.
Saints made their way into ‘the top flight’ in 1977 and stayed there until 2005. West Bromwich Albion, White Hart Lane, Stamford Bridge, Sheffield Wednesday, Stoke – the names seemed a hybrid of the old world, Tolkein, a Scrabble answer.
Every year Liverpool, Arsenal, Man United and the usual suspects dominated, whie Southampton got the occasional mention for causing an upset.
The ‘big adventure’ saw me backpacking, partying, working, stressing my parents and following Saints during 1992, ’93, ’94 and early ’95.
Happily, my time in Sunny London coincided with a religious experience. God wore number 7 and played for Southampton.
Matthew Le Tissier was winning the BBC Goal of the Month for fun. Saints were doing well and my vows were renewed. No doubt many readers are saying “who?” about now, as Le Tiss was a one-club man and was never tempted by the big clubs’ big money.
Type Matt Le Tissier onto YouTube, sit back and enjoy. How good was God? When the Premier League finalised its supreme goals of the last 20 seasons, there was Thierry Henry, Alan Shearer, Bergkamp, Beckham et al with a goal each – and God with two goals of the all-time top 10.
Being a plastic supporter of a big club means you’ve probably got plenty of star players to idolise.
As a Saint there’s Le Tissier and… that’s it. A bit like our trophy cabinet, though we did win the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy a couple of years back.
About now there will be lifelong supporters of the aforementioned big clubs seething. “I stood at the Clock End at Highbury”, “My grandad built the Kop” and so on is not what this is about.
Plastic supporters know nothing of their club except that they win a lot. Many plastics may well get up in the small hours to watch their team play. Setting the alarm for a Southampton game is a different level of commitment.
Too often TV sport updates of the EPL starts and finish with “another win for the Red Devils…”, and that’s the Premier League done then.
That an upset win by “lowly Southampton” even makes the bulletin says as much for the 19-year-old script writer as it does for many Australians’ knowledge of the EPL.
Our recent 1-1 draw at Old Trafford was portrayed as a massive surprise, when in fact it was surprising how badly the home team was outplayed and still hung on for a draw.
This weekend, top of the table Arsenal host third place Southampton at the Emirates. Gunner plastics will expect an easy victory, and they’ll probably get one. You never know though.
Supporting a small team in the EPL has a lot more downs than ups. I know we’re up to third and by God it feels good.
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