Hack feels left out. He’s covered two Premier League football matches this weekend and travelled on countless trains, but didn’t experience any racism at all. Not even any casual racism, let alone abusive chanting. This is unusual as that kind of thing seems all the rage lately. Cynics might argue this is because Hack wasn’t covering Chelsea. Or Millwall. But still.
It all started with that film of Chelsea fans pushing a black man off the train on the Paris metro while singing a racist song. Then they were fingered singing more filth at a station in London. Now, “Chelsea fans” are accused of doing similar on a train to… Manchester.
Hack would say he travels on the wrong trains. But this is not true. He has witnessed similar things many, many times, sadly. And it reminds him of one of his biggest regrets.
Travelling home from one Premier League game, Hack was sitting near a group of fans who all supported the same London club, when on gets a jolly-looking imam from the local mosque. A smiley chap, he’s in full white robes and headgear, has a long thick beard and glasses, and is carrying his shopping in a plastic bag. Cheerfully, he enquires of said bunch of fans how their team, who he also supports, got on in the game. Silence. Broken quickly by Yob #1 saying: “Fuck off. What’s in the bag? Fucking bomb?” Yobs #2 & #3 chuckle at this, and one of them replies: “Fucking ragheads. Religion of peace my arse.” Mortified, the no-longer-jolly-looking imam gets off at the next stop. And Hack didn’t lift a finger. Shame on Hack.
This got Hack to thinking. It’s no surprise really, however shocking, to hear stories like this. But what makes a group of grown men want to sing “We’re racist, and that’s the way we like it?” Don’t get Hack wrong. We all sing things in public we regret. Only today on the school run, Hack was plodding along singing “I need a MAAAAN” a little too loudly and getting some very strange looks (Mrs Hack had left the Eurythmics on in the car, and some of it is quite catchy you know. No really). One of Hack’s old school chums also had a similar experience once singing “Rape Me” by Nirvana at the top of his lungs while plugged into his walkman (remember those?). But racially aggravated abusive chanting? No. Not for Hack.
And then Hack sees the picture hopefully attached to this blog, of a betting company at Wembley proudly offering fans the chance to “Prove you’re not prejudiced”. Ugh. Then again, it is the same company who pretended they’d cut down half the Brazilian rainforest to spell their name as a pre-World Cup publicity stunt.
In Rio, Hack met a black a referee who told him after one match he officiated, he returned to his car to find it stuffed full of bananas. So there are clearly idiots everywhere.
But Hack wonders how much footballers care about it all. Do they care about anything, footballers? Hack heard this weekend about one Premier League manager, in charge of one of the biggest clubs around, being spotted on the motorway in his chauffeur-driven car after one particularly crushing defeat, with his head in his hands, looking thoroughly miserable. But then it’s always the managers who end up losing their job, isn’t it? Players don’t. Unless you’re Ched Evans.
So do they care? They mostly say all the right things. And some of them talk with passion about issues like race (though Hack once asked a high-profile former player for an interview about the Rooney Rule, and was told, tartly, he’d “said all he wanted to about that and won’t be saying any more”. XXXXX XXXXXXX. Fighting racism the best way he knows how). Others are understandably scared to speak their mind, and not just on racism.
That doesn’t stop them speaking out about other things though – like the footballer Hack knows who enjoyed one young lady’s 34D boobs so much he offered to give her several thousand quid to make them even bigger. Hack has always believed any more than a handful is a waste, but you get the point.
Hack thinks footballers do care. Just not always about the same things. He knows one, for instance, who was in hospital waiting for surgery one Mother’s Day and sneaked out to buy all the mums in the hospital flowers (you’d know who this was if you read the Daily Star… answers on a postcard). And he knows another who only seems to care about chocolate. And sweets. And looking up random women on facebook (you’ll have to do more than read the Daily Star to find out any more about that one. Two or three pints should do it).
But for every player accused of racially abusing an opponent or raping a teenager, there’s one who donates his whole salary to charity, or buys match tickets to hand out to the jobless.
It would just be nice if a few more of them spoke their minds about the things that really matter. Rather than boobs.
HackOnTheRoad 