Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Switching allegiance

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

    Switching allegiance

    Karl Pilkington admits he supported Man City as a kid but switched to Man United in the 1990s. Wonder why that was.

    Is there any justification for this kind of thing? Finding out your club is now owned by someone who makes sausages out of tiger cubs, that sort of thing?

    #2
    Why would you need to justify it?

    Comment


      #3
      Because football supporters are an instinctively tribal bunch, for whom admitting switching your allegiance between clubs is on a par with admitting selling your children?

      Comment


        #4
        I could accept a kid swapping teams, particularly an armchair fan rather than a youngster who attends matches but Pilkington must have been in his 20's when he swapped for which there is no justification, most likely he was glory hunting, shame.

        Comment


          #5
          Originally posted by Various Artist View Post
          Because football supporters are an instinctively tribal bunch, for whom admitting switching your allegiance between clubs is on a par with admitting selling your children?
          Yeah but this assumes all football supporters are the same. We're not. I'm not instinctively tribal I don't think.

          I couldn't care less whether a grown man wants to switch from Team A to Team B. That's his choice.

          I'll admit I'm coming at this as someone who has slowly switched from being a Carlisle Utd fan to a York City season ticket holder.

          Comment


            #6
            Grimmer speaks for me, but then I'm coming at this as a Norwich fan who has bought an Ipswich shirt and junior blues membership for his son.

            Comment


              #7
              Isn't switching the fans' version of what MK Dons did?

              Comment


                #8
                A fan switching support from one club to another is not the same as a club being moved/taken away from all of its fans, no.

                If I spend the odd Saturday afternoon at Portman Road instead of Carrow Road, that doesn't really affect anyone else in the grand scheme of things.

                Comment


                  #9
                  When I was in third class (8-9) a lad switched from supporting Man Utd to Arsenal, because Arsenal had more Irish internationals.

                  Comment


                    #10
                    As a child I went from Spurs to Leeds to Spurs due to different members of my family pulling me one way then the other. Then in 1994 I was taken to my first Cheltenham game and as I started attending regularly they became my team.

                    I still follow Spurs and want them to win every game (unless they play Cheltenham – it felt odd supporting Cheltenham at White Hart Lane in 2012) and love to rub their victories in the noses of other clubs’ followers who I know, but Cheltenham are my true team and I can’t imagine that ever changing.

                    Comment


                      #11
                      I'll admit to having expressed a 7-year-old's interest in ManYoo before an older neighbour converted me to Liverpool. This was the 80s- it was not a difficult conversion. Needless to say I was (and am) an armchair Liverpool fan. That said, even as casual fan it's pretty much unthinkable that I might decide to start following Arsenal instead tomorrow, and it's absolutely unthinkable that I might start supporting Bohemians or St Pats instead of Dundalk just because I was living in Dublin.

                      A friend of mine, a dyed-in-the-wool Dundalk diehard is working in Cork and his 8-year-old son is developing an interest in football. Most of his classmates have some affinity with (Dundalk's bitter rivals) Cork City, and he's a Cork lad. For now he wants both jerseys and his Dad is, admirably, going to let him find his way.

                      Football tribalism is a funny and silly thing. I'm all for rivalry and the epic bantz that comes with it but I really couldn't care less who you support. My wife and her family are all Shamrock Rovers stock. Revealing this fact to some around Dundalk was more shocking than if I'd married a Protestant or a Muslim.

                      Comment


                        #12
                        Switching when you're in primary school or switching because you move to another place and become enamoured of the local team are both very different things to switching between two clubs from the same city as an adult.

                        It's not a crime or some sort of massive taboo but it's a bit weird
                        Last edited by ad hoc; 28-09-2018, 11:49.

                        Comment


                          #13
                          I tend to believe you can trade down but not up. So if you want go to from Liverpool to your local non-league club then grand, but going from Liverpool to Barcelona makes you an awful person who is bad.

                          Comment


                            #14
                            Originally posted by Grimmer View Post
                            I couldn't care less whether a grown man wants to switch from Team A to Team B. That's his choice.
                            Well, of course it's 'his choice', but I'd instinctively know to take his opinions (particularly those on football matters) with a giant pinch of salt. Why? Because he'd be likely to change them at a moment's notice. Floating voters aren't the most interesting or reliable of friends.

                            One old mate of mine used to pipe up with 'come on, my boys!' to a series of different clubs over the years. But while he recognised that that was obviously a joke, over time he proved very wishy-washy in general as a friend - and we drifted apart.

                            Comment


                              #15
                              I wrote this a little while ago.

                              TL;DR - I kind of almost switched. In the circumstances, it seemed like the natural thing to do.

                              Now that I think about it, I realise I had been wavering for some little while, but it was in 2013-14 that I succumbed to temptation. This was the season I started supporting someone else.

                              Perhaps I had made the wrong choice in the first place. My dad passed on to me his interest in football but he made no concerted effort to encourage me to follow his team. Brought up in Hackney, he went to his first Leyton Orient match in 1954. He was there when Orient were promoted to Division One in 1962 and remained a regular at Brisbane Road until the demands of a family intervened. When I was growing up, Dad would take me to Orient now and again, but deciding on a team was left entirely to me. Young, naive and above all a shameless glory-hunter, I plumped for Ipswich Town, who - in notable contrast to Orient - were very good indeed at the time. Portman Road therefore became the place where we watched most of our football and my dad was left to support the Os from afar.

                              Though Ipswich dominated my attention thereafter, I was not completely immune to the charms of Orient. I stood with the away fans whenever Orient visited my university town and during the year or so that I lived in London, I spent many Saturday afternoons at Brisbane Road. But throughout that time I was also watching Ipswich and, so long as I had time for them, Orient were never more than a stand-in.

                              In recent years, my attendance at Portman Road has been markedly less frequent, due in the main to my status as the father of two daughters who have no interest in football. This literal distancing from the club - from the ground, the players, other fans - has served to weaken my emotional attachment to it. As it has weakened, it has occurred to me that there’s nothing that fundamentally ties me to Ipswich and instead I have been increasingly drawn to Orient, the team with which I do have a persistent and genuine connection, my dad’s team.

                              This pull towards the Os began in earnest a few years ago, when, as a retirement gift for my dad, we went to see them play Sheffield United. After a fractious and controversial contest, Orient rescued a point with a 96th-minute justice-delivering goal that prompted us to leap around in a delirious manner that had seemed beyond the capabilities of at least one of our bodies for some time. Below us, the supposedly responsible professionals on the Sheffield United bench were involved in a bout of ineffectual fisticuffs with the fans behind them. Dad and I slapped each other on the back, united in our delight. It was the most fun I’d had at football for years. Ipswich could have gone second in the Championship that day, but they lost. I didn’t really care.

                              Last season, factors combined to close the shrinking gap between my feelings for my first and second teams altogether. Firstly, Orient were quite unexpectedly fantastic. Starting with eight straight wins, they dealt with all subsequent setbacks to reach the League 1 play-off final. Not forgetting my background in glory-hunting, this was a bandwagon I was keen to board. But more than that, there was something about the team, largely unheralded players performing to the limit of their potential under inspired management, that demanded admiration. A diverse group including players written off elsewhere, French journeymen turned East End cult heroes, and a convicted criminal reformed to such an extent that he’s become a decorated work-in-the-community champion, it was impossible not to warm to them.

                              Secondly, my dad was unwell, ill enough to cause concern and remind me of my parents’ vulnerability. Consequently, subconsciously perhaps, I placed greater value on the things that are important to us both, things that bring us together, things like Leyton Orient.

                              At first, my shifting allegiance manifested itself in subtle ways. The websites I frequented most often were still Ipswich ones, but when discussions mentioned Moses Odubajo or Dean Cox as potential transfer targets, I was more concerned with how such moves would harm Orient than benefit Ipswich. I watched Final Score thinking that the Ipswich game was my main interest but found myself ambivalent to their misfortunes and aggrieved at Orient’s disappointments.

                              This betrayal of my team only increased as the season neared its conclusion and an initially tantalising prospect became an exciting possibility. With Orient stuck outside the second tier since 1982, and Ipswich having failed to find the ineptitude required to join them, fixtures between them have been rare, a mundane League Cup tie at Portman Road the only competitive contest in that time. Provided Ipswich’s unconvincing quest for Premier League status wasn’t also successful, promotion for Orient would see the two teams in the same division for the first time in my lifetime. Despite them often being only a division apart, somehow this had never before appeared likely. Dad’s team and my team operated in comfortably disparate worlds, the distance between them assumed unbridgeable. Now that was no longer the case and, at a time when circumstances were drawing me closer to Orient and to my dad, a meeting of Ipswich and Orient on an equal footing suddenly seemed to make sense. It would be a timely coming-together of our football-supporting lives, the point at which the different path I took looped round to join the road my dad was on. Something to hope for.

                              Standing outside Brisbane Road after that Sheffield United game, I looked up at the Orient crest emblazoned across the South Stand and regretted, just a little, the fact that my dad didn’t try to make me an Orient fan, reflecting upon the experiences we might have shared but which had gone forever. Now the ideal, previously unimagined shared experience was within reach and, as Ipswich’s promotion challenge faded to keep it so, I found that I was pleased, final confirmation of my perfidy.

                              And so on a Sunday in late May, my dad and I were at Wembley for the play-off final, nervously anticipating the realisation of the reward Orient’s outstanding season deserved and of the fixture that had taken on considerable significance in my mind.

                              A happy ending would have seen us celebrating Orient’s triumph together, able to look forward to next season’s encounters with Ipswich, me pretending to wrestle with the dilemma of who to support while knowing the decision had already been made. Of course, that didn’t happen. At times we were fooled into believing it would, but Orient lost a 2-0 lead and then squandered another advantage during the penalty shoot-out, leaving Rotherham to take the promotion place. It seemed cruel.

                              I have seen Ipswich lose in the play-offs many times, often in agonising fashion, but there was something particularly crushing about this. Given Orient’s 32-year absence from the second division and almost complete lack of challenge to return in the meantime, this was an opportunity precious in its scarcity. Well-wishers have noted that “there’s always next year” but as we headed home, I was thinking that for this team, and for me and my dad, maybe there isn’t.

                              Whether my sympathies will continue to lean towards Orient, I can’t be sure, but at the moment there is a feeling of permanence about the change. I have not completely recanted my loyalty to Ipswich, but in 2013/14, that loyalty was overwhelmed by a confluence of irresistible lures from elsewhere. And, despite my awareness of the treachery and despite the desired outcome ultimately remaining elusive, it just felt right.

                              Comment


                                #16
                                Originally posted by Flynnie View Post
                                I tend to believe you can trade down but not up. So if you want go to from Liverpool to your local non-league club then grand, but going from Liverpool to Barcelona makes you an awful person who is bad.
                                What if you're a Liverpudlian and move to Catalunya?

                                Comment


                                  #17
                                  I used to support Inter Cardiff and therefore hated Barry Town who dominated the League of Wales at the time. But Inter disappeared in a merger while Barry got sunk by a charlatan and only a heroic effort by fans kept the club alive. Starting again at the bottom and getting into the Welsh Premier League has been a huge achievement. I've been to see them a few times. I want them to win. And I now hate TNS.

                                  It's not a straightforward swap. But it's close.

                                  Comment


                                    #18
                                    Well, obviously I switched from Cardiff to Wimbledon, (though I still see myself as a season ticket holder/follower of The Dons rather than a supporter per se) after the former rebranded and it was a totally correct and justified, nay righteous, move.

                                    Comment


                                      #19
                                      Originally posted by Ray de Galles View Post
                                      Well, obviously I switched from Cardiff to Wimbledon, (though I still see myself as a season ticket holder/follower of The Dons rather than a supporter per se) after the former rebranded and it was a totally correct and justified, nay righteous, move.
                                      I moved from Cardiff to Bath City for the same reasons as Ray, obviously, but was more capricious as a kid. Supported Leeds (and, indeed, England) until I was 14 or 15 and then had a brief flirtation with Swansea during the Toshack era, firstly, as a bandwagon jumping exercise and, secondly, probably to piss Ray off. Both totally correct and justified, if not quite righteous, moves.

                                      Leaving this aside, the point about the opening post is that, firstly, it is from City to United and, secondly, it is Karl fucking Pilkington.

                                      Comment


                                        #20
                                        Originally posted by 3 Colours Red View Post
                                        What if you're a Liverpudlian and move to Catalunya?
                                        Girona.

                                        Comment


                                          #21
                                          Circumstances change.

                                          I didnt grow up as a Dumbarton fan. As a kid I went to one of the big 2 Glasgow teams with my dad. Even when he passed away I kept going to see the big team.

                                          But as the years went on I became sick of following them. Atmosphere was terrible. The club was sleepwalking towards disaster and there was a split in the fans between those who could see it and were vocal and those who refused to believe it and turned on the vocal complainers. I used to go to games out of a sense of duty rather than genuine enjoyment. In my mid 20s I decided that I'd give up my season ticket, go to games PAYG as and when I felt like it and see if I felt differently in a couple of years time. There were other things I was looking to do such as travelling (I didnt really end up going anywhere) and music (I did end up going to a lot of gigs).

                                          I'm lucky if I went to 3 or 4 games PAYG.

                                          A year down the line and my local lower league team were going for the title in tier 4. I was bored and fancied a day at the football. I went along and enjoyed it. I went back the next season and enjoyed it. I kept going back and kept enjoying it. I liked following my local team. I liked the lack of baggage that the big 2 in Glasgow carry. I liked the atmosphere at the club and the fans I met at the games. I'm now involved with things on match day (50/50 draw, man of the match award) and I'm on the supporters trust board. I keep an eye on the big team naturally as I'm still fond of them but my football loyalties now are the Sons first and foremost.

                                          It is possible to switch clubs. It's usually impossible to switch to a rival but following Dumbarton is different to following a big club and whilst the football itself is obviously of a lower standard, the whole culture around the fans and the club just feels better to be a part of.

                                          Comment


                                            #22
                                            Originally posted by Bordeaux Education View Post
                                            the point about the opening post is that, firstly, it is from City to United and, secondly, it is Karl fucking Pilkington.
                                            I named Karl Pilkington on the "Stuff you don't get" thread as I really don't see the attraction or how he keeps getting TV series. I have some suspicion that he knows how to give incredible blowjobs to TV executives.

                                            Comment


                                              #23
                                              I'm from the same part of town as Karl Pilkington and also supported City in the 80s. Had that maroon and white striped away shirt, and a towel, and David White as an imaginary big brother. Went to about three City games a season for a few years, and was supporting them when they beat us 4-1 in a friendly in 1988. Could never switch to United though. Supporting a big club never really suited me anyway.

                                              Comment


                                                #24
                                                Great piece from Hot Orange there and also from BallochSonsFan. Confused about Alexandria though.

                                                I've always been an armchair fan; in childhood from Chelsea (everyone was) then Stoke (Geoff Hurst and Alan Hudson) then Ipswich (when Paul Mariner went there; good timing). Once Bobby Robson left I was like my Dad always appeared to be: teamless. Strange and rare in those who follow football.

                                                My interest in my "local" teams Reading and Maidenhead (to a lesser extent Wycombe) has only really taken shape since living in Australia if I'm honest. Maidenhead in particular are meaning more and more as time passes which is strange. Must be that I know the town, the ground and its surroundings so well.

                                                Comment


                                                  #25
                                                  Seconded about the good reads in the last few posts.

                                                  I've always been an armchair fan too as I've invariably lived hundreds (and, for a while, thousands) of miles from Carrow Road. As a Norwich supporter growing up in Wales (Norwich is my birthplace, my dad is a fan and I've held true to my instinctive allegiance to the Canaries since I started following football aged 9), East Anglia as a whole has always been a distant but special place in my mind's eye, with only occasional visits to Norfolk to sate my longing. So perhaps it's a factor of not being 'on the spot' and thus not getting swept up in the "Old Farm" rivalry, or maybe just of my intrinsically non-combative nature, but I've never had the slightest tribal dislike for Ipswich -- right from the start I always wanted to see them do well as fellow East Anglians first and foremost. You can add Peterborough and Cambridge to this category, for that matter.

                                                  Comment

                                                  Working...
                                                  X