A Momentous Decision

Today I’ve come to a momentous decision.  Momentous, that is, for me, but probably not for the world at large.  Let me explain.

For as long as I remember I’ve loved the game of football, and cherish some great footballing memories.  As a child in the 1960s I attended matches as Boothferry Park, the former home of Hull City.  I found the whole experience absolutely magical: the atmosphere, the noise, the crowd, the cheering and the booing, the thrill of victory and despair of defeat.  Later there was a wonderful period when my dad and his two brothers, together with me and my brother, were season ticket holders.  Matchdays were eagerly anticipated in the days when Waggy and Chillo were leading the Tigers’ attack.

Another particularly memorable occasion was an away match at Burnley in the 1980s, when City required a 3 goal margin of victory to achieve promotion.  At the time I was living in Norwich.  My brother, Phil, travelled over from his home Germany, and we drove up for the match. The Tigers won by 2-0, thus losing out on promotion by a single goal, but the atmosphere was amazing.  When the club moved to their new ground, the KC Stadium, in 2002, we had a brick with the names of my dad, me and my brother placed in the memorial pavement near the main entrance.

The best footballing weekend of my life occurred in May 2008.  By that time I was chaplain of Doncaster Rovers, and both Rovers and City had reached Wembley play-off Finals (for League 1 and the Championship respectively), to be played on consecutive days that weekend.  I managed to get tickets for both matches and saw both teams triumph.  I will never forget that weekend!  Hull City reached the Premiership for the first time in their over 100-year history.  That, perhaps surprisingly, is when my love affair with football began to turn slightly sour.

To be frank, life in the Premiership hasn’t been all that it promised during City’s two spells there.  Yes, there have been some great performances and memorable matches, and yes, City did reach the FA Cup Final for the first time in their history last year.  But I seem to have become somewhat disillusioned with professional football, especially at the top level, not least through the fact that money seems to be the driving force.

In February it was announced that the Premier League has sold TV rights to its games for over £5bn, which I find grotesque.  It is reputed that the top players like Wayne Rooney can earn around £250,000 per week, which is about 10 times the current UK average ANNUAL salary.  How can that be justified?  Football at the top level is awash with money, but where does it all go?  It seems to me that much more such be reinvested in grassroots football to benefit those who can least afford it.

This week brought the news that two separate criminal investigations are underway into corruption at FIFA, football’s world governing body, with seven top FIFA officials having been arrested.  US Attorney General Loretta Lynch stated that, "The indictment alleges corruption that is rampant, systemic, and deep-rooted.”   There are allegations of corrupt actions dating back many years, including millions of pounds of bribes.  Meanwhile FIFA President Sepp Blatter, who has been at the head of FIFA all during that time, denies any knowledge or responsibility, and has been re-elected to serve for another term as President.

That, I guess, is the straw that has broken this particular camel’s back.  For me, “The Beautiful Game” has become very ugly, and I have come to the decision that I cannot simply close my eyes to its ugliness.  Plainly put, although I will always love Hull City as my club, and will cherish some very special memories, I feel that I can no longer support the professional game.  I've struggled with this, but my decision is that as long as Sepp Blatter remains as President of FIFA I will not attend another game of professional football.

Many will think that I am spitting into the wind, and that my action is as much use as King Canute trying to command the waves to recede.  Of course my action will have no effect on Mr Blatter or FIFA, and little or no effect on my own club (whose owners seem to pay little attention to the fans anyway, but that’s another story!)  So am I cutting off my nose to spite my face?  Maybe, but it’s my little protest at a football world which has gone mad.  I’d rather put my money into something worthwhile.  And my decision will please my wife no end!