Identity Crisis?

Next Wednesday, many of my friends will be scrabbling around for fake ID, frantically searching for any way possible to enter nightclubs, even if it means through the toilet window. Because the 1st December is of course, The Big Rugby Match (C), the Clash of the Titans (TM) and the Best of Enemies fight. Or am I getting confused with David Haye v Audley Harrison? Never mind. Anyhow, the only identification I will be needing that night will be my Birmingham City season ticket, and my blue and white scarf. For next week, ladies and gentlemen, is probably, for me, the most eagerly awaited match I've ever known- Blues v Villa in the quarter-finals of the cup.

It's not that I have anything against the rugby match. Please don't think that, I think it's fantastic how people turn out, and you can guarantee that under any normal circumstances, I'd be there too. However, 'Grammar till I die' isn't strictly true, is it? We're only really Grammar till next year. Supporting a football team, well, that's a slightly different matter, isn't it?

I was wondering, what makes a Blues fan a Blues fan? What makes a Wolves fan a Wolves fan (aside from of course, the fact that you're a pikey and your sister is also your mother)? What makes a Gateshead United fan so firmly dedicated to their team? Why can we not just throw aside these loyalties and forget about football apart from the odd 90 minutes here and there? It's the question that has baffled non-football fans for decades, and probably football fans too, if truth be told. I used to laugh it off, claim it to be genetic, blame it on my Dad, anything to skirt the issue. But although the superficial reasons are tempting, it will only hold off the inevitable inquest later in life, when I regret passing up a date to see Blues play Huddersfield.

I'm not sure whether I'm more fanatic than most of my friends about my team, or whether I just fail at hiding it. I asked somebody recently what was my worst quality (I'm not entirely sure why, in hindsight, it makes me seem like a self-obsessed arse). She, without hesitation, said that I get too upset at football too easily. It's probably true. Two years ago, I refused to commit myself to my Year 11 prom in case the Blues were playing. The first thing I check when somebody asks whether I'd like to come out is whether the Blues have a game or not. I don't regret it for one second. But why do I feel such an attachment to this particular group of men running around in coloured shirts?

Yesterday, I found a website detailing every single Blues match, and from the mid 90-s onwards, the team and scorers from each game. I could hardly contain myself. I found my first game (versus Port Vale, 21/08/1999, we won 4-2), relived some of my greatest memories, and generally just had a good old wander down Memory Lane. I was almost euphoric with glee. The thing that surprised me most was how good my memory of certain matches was. I remembered going to a night match in half term to see us play Gillingham, and vividly remember Marcelo scoring a 90th minute winner. (I only remember it because I think I compared the ecstasy surrounding me to that moment in Chicken Run when the chickens eventually escape). I also had a vague inkling that it was 'Kids for a Quid', and sure enough, the attendance was over 26,000! I also remember coming out of a game against the Wolves, miserable, with my Dad saying 'well, that was like watching a goalless draw, they scored so early'. Sure enough- 1/4/2001, Blues 0-1 Wolves, Ndah 1.' Now, if you were to ask me what I learned at school today... Not a chance.

This trip down Memory Lane also allowed me to go all misty-eyed over certain players, names that will mean nothing whatsoever to 91/92 clubs in the Football League and Premier League. Even my sister, who stopped going when we lost in the play-offs to Watford ('it's too depressing, seeing grown men cry'), occasionally yells 'Dele Adebola! He was playing when I went to watch them!' when he pops up on Soccer Saturday from time to time. Yes, he did play back then Sarah. And he still hasn't got a right foot.

Now, I'm well aware that that joke about one-footed Dele will mean nothing to the vast, vast majority of readers. But that is what is so incredible about being a supporter of a team. I have no desire to gain an encylopaedic knowledge of Everton, or Yeovil, for example. But my club, these names, like Mark Burchill (greedy b****** who looked like me), Christopher Wreh (next best thing? Useless!) and Stern John (in the last minute...!) will always have a resonance with me, just as, I don't know, Tomas Radzinksi will have a resonance with Everton fans. Like I said, I don't know.

I'm even not entirely sure why I hate the Villa so much. It's just so. But would I love the Blues as much if I didn't hate the Villa? My Dad and I had this discussion recently. With clubs like Sheffield Wednesday teetering on the brink of apocalypse, how do Sheffield United fans feel? Do they laugh? Would I laugh if the Villa went out of business? I'd probably miss the rivalry, but on the other hand, you could have a good chuckle to yourself. Before the league meeting a few weeks ago, I pondered whether I'd prefer the pragmatic win in the league to a victory over them in the cup. Years ago, I'd probably have said the league. But now, I'm well aware that after 17 years of supporting the Blues, my best memory isn't a glorious treble, not even a cup win, but a 94th minute equaliser. You can't really wax lyrical about a scrambled point in February, no matter how good it felt.

I'm fully aware I've posed more questions than answers in that article. But perhaps what it means to be a Blues fan can be summed up in the way that, following Chelsea's capitulation at the hands of Sunderland the other day, the Birmingham City forums were awash with people saying 'well, you know what this means, a Chelsea backlash'.

Or perhaps, more poetically, it can be summed up in three words: Keep. Right. On.

'Back On My Old Stomping Ground'

Here I am, back on blogspot, grovelling at the doorstep, for a brief foray into the world I once knew. The reason? This blog doesn't really fit in with my Videojug account. So, what has the first quarter of the season taught us?

1. Chelsea aren't as brilliant as we first thought, but they'll still easily win the league. When they played the mighty footballing forces of Wigan, West Brom and Blackpool, and swept all before them, some thought that they'd prove to be the best team ever. They aren't, as disappointing performances at Villa and Man City proved. However, the other teams in the division are far too inconsistent to mount a decent challenge. Arsenal may have learned how to win ugly, but the real test will be whether they can win at places like St Andrews, Molineux, the Reebok. If Manchester United are in touch as we move into February, they have a decent chance, but it's impossible to look past Chelsea.

2. Money eventually talks. Whilst Man City won't win the title this season, the signs are there that, with the right stewardship, they will eventually be serious title challengers. He may have taken the Josef Stalin approach to management, the 'if I put enough players in the ranks, I can't lose' tactic, but Mancini is not the right man. Not only is his name, in the same fashion as Arsene's, far too similar to his club's to be taken seriously, he is far too negative. I could win the games that Mancini has this season, finishing 4th is not good enough.

3. The Championship is a lot duller without the Albion. Usually, the bi-annual tour of the Championship from West Brom adds some excitement to the second tier, but this season, they're not in it, and neither are the Wolves. Sure, it's funny to see Leeds struggle, but without a vested interest, the Championship passes me by.

4. There simply aren't enough good referees. Michael Oliver, Stuart Attwell, Anthony Taylor and Mike Jones are too young and too inexperienced to be refereeing at this level. Some of the decisions have been laughable this season, and unfortunately, we seem to have been on the wrong end of more than most. Martin Atkinson seems to have a personal vendetta against Blues, and should simply never be allowed to referee us again. You can bet your bottom dollar that had two shocking penalty decisions gone against Sir Alex Ferguson, Atkinson would never have darkened Old Trafford's door again.

5. The offside law needs re-writing. Far too many times this season, the offside law has been interpreted to the letter, and as such, the wrong decisions have been made. It's not the application of the law that needs looking at, it's the law itself.

6. Monday Night Football is still just as dour as ever. It didn't take long for the MNF games we know and love to replace the seemingly fantastic games that Sky showed at the start of the year. You don't watch MNF to see Manchester United v Liverpool. You watch it to see Blackburn v Wigan, or Charlton v Middlesbrough. What? Neither of those teams are in the Premier League anymore? Why are Sky even having MNF then?

7. Alex McLeish may not be the most tactically astute manager the Blues will ever have, but he's probably the most magnanimous and genuine. His refusal to criticse referees must be applauded, and the way he spoke about how the Blues players must 'button it' in the face of poor decisions brought a smile to this referee's face.

8. Clarke Carlisle should've spent more time training, and less time reading. Did we really have to be subjected to that tripe on a Monday night? He talked non-stop, about nothing in particular. I know he's supposed to be the cleverest player in England, but he was worse than Andy Gray. And he's shocking.

9. I'd rather watch the Carling Cup than the Champions League. The only matches I've wanted to watch this season have been Inter v Spurs, and Man Utd v Rangers. Simply, nobody cares if Arsenal put 4 past Rag-Arse Rabotnicki, or Pub-Team Belgrade. Contrast that with the stories that have been emanating from the 'much-maligned Carling Cup' (TM). Lee Hughes at Wolves. Brentford. Kevin Phillips desperate for some silverware at last. The most eagerly-anticipated Midlands derby since 2002. You can have your prawn-sandwiched Champions League, while I'll have a pie and a pint at the Carling Cup.

10. Whisper it, but Avram Grant might actually not be that good a manager. Yes, he performed admirably at Pompey, but there was no pressure and their FA Cup campaign was given a huge helping hand from Sepp Blatter and his anti-goal line tecnology crusade, and a linesman's decision that will always haunt me if I never see us win a trophy. West Ham got rid of chipmunk lookalike Zola, and replaced him with Herman Munster's butler. With pressure from the eel-munchers at Upton Park, Grant has started terribly.

11. It's much harder to hate Liverpool with Woy in charge. I hate that I don't hate Woy Hodgson. Why can't I just hate Liverpool like I used to, with that smirking Fat Spanish Waiter in charge? With a bit of luck, the Americans will fail to realise that Woy will turn it round, and is a fantastic manager, and they'll get rid of him and appoint some whooping Yank.

So there we go. It used to be claimed that the only thing that was certain of the Premier League is its uncertainty, but now I feel the only thing that is certain is that Chelsea will win the league. The relegation battle, much though Sky would hate to admit it, is far more intriguing.