Romance of non-league...?

In a throwback to times when players weren't scared of playing twice in three days, I visited St George's Lane today, the home of Worcester City FC, for a Bank Holiday clash with Solihull Moors. I was expecting twinkly-eyed blokes manning the terraces in flat caps, 90 minutes of hoofball, and buckets of abuse for the referee. As it was, I got all three. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it of course, it was a good way to spend a late summer's afternoon, and I came away from the ground feeling quite good, despite seeing Worcester lose 1-0. That's where I'm feeling uneasy. At any Blues defeat I've ever witnessed, I've come away feeling devastated, and have begun to accept that such a feeling is part of the matchday experience, just like walking to the ground, or (let's chuck in another cliché), the smell of frying onions. If this were a Nick Hornby novel, and I were a walking cliché, I'd be eulogising about how my eyes have been opened to the wonders of non-league football, and how I will discard my Birmingham season ticket in favour of a Worcester one.

'Away, foul piece of plastic! You have robbed me of joy for the last time!'

As it is, I believe I could never bring myself to do it. I noticed that the average age of the crowd today was somewhat older than I normally see down at St Andrews. I'm guessing that these people, at some point or another, were driven away from the Blues, or The Hawthorns, or Villa Park due to the 'money-culture' of the modern Premier League, and have since found solace and comfort in the grassroots level. I doff my cap to these people. But I could never do it, at least, not in the foreseeable future. This is edhiggs.blogspot.com, not nostradamus.blogspot.com, and who's to say in 60 years time, when the Premier League is played on the moon, or heaven forbid, Dubai, I won't do the same? It's perfectly conceivable.

It's a very romantic idea, of course, people supporting their non-league club and shouting 'Up Yours' to the money-men. But in all honesty, give me the sex appeal of the Premier League any day. The emotional bond of supporting the Blues wouldn't be broken easily, I can tell you that. I fully understand AFC Wimbledon's decision to start a new club, and I respect their fans for that immensely. I don't however, see FC United's point. If they were going to 'up sticks', why not do it when Manchester United boycotted the FA Cup for some ludicrous money-making frisson? And why start a new club? Why not give some fans back to the clubs they stole from, the Rochdales and Burys of this world?

I don't hate Manchester City's fans for enjoying their moment in the sun, as I know I'd be doing exactly the same. I wouldn't leave if a billionaire took over at the Blues- far from it. I'd hope, however, that I'd remember my roots, and not display breathtaking arrogance towards the clubs that, not long ago, I was equal to. Reading a Manchester City forum pre-season, the question was posed 'why would Joe Hart want to go to a nowhere club where he'll never win anything?' This comment, of course, came in the wake of Manchester City's treble-winning seas- oh, wait.

It would take something monumental to ply my fingers away from my season ticket at St Andrews. It would have to be something moral. Marlon King signing, for example. I couldn't throw it away through the rose-tinted spectacles of one day watching non-league, because although St George's Lane might look appealing on a bright sunny day, it's nothing compared to St Andrews, and the emotions I feel at My Club, win, lose or draw.