Something is not right, is it? What’s this highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury that I feel? Why has it returned of late, after so many years?
What I feel is, of course, the sensation of pain. And it’s coming from everything associated with Aston Villa FC. Woe is me! Woe is us!
It is a fact that any object of affection has the capacity to hurt. What a dichotomy love can be! Why do we persevere with it?
This feeling has been intensifying over the last 3 years in particular, and it has caused me to hark back to the 1960s to recall the sense of despair then, when you would think: “The next game is when it is all going to be turned round; the recovery has to take place now” – only for your favourites to be turned over by the likes of Blackburn Rovers by something like 4-0. And later a super Chelsea side that won 6-2.
But you’d not give up. You’d keep on believing: this was Aston Villa. Along came the super Spurs of the day – Gilzean, Mullery and all – and you’d still believe in your team against all the odds. And Villa would send her supporters into ecstasy by leading 3-0 after 30 minutes, achieved only by intense pride in the claret and blue. Only to draw 3-3 in the end against a quality team.
But that was the end of the make believe. After that it was down and down. A change of manager came along, but no further joy. It got worse and worse. The fans decided – as they had murmured for some time – that the board was to blame. Via intense determination from the fans, the board finally gave way and in came the revolution. Tommy Docherty was recruited to pilot the recovery on the pitch, and for 12 months there was banter and camaraderie – but it did not stop a further slide and another change of manager.
Eventually the tide turned and the era of Ron Saunders stands out like a beacon. In the Nineties there was some happiness as well. But we now seem to have gone full circle.
For me, part of the pain in the present situation is that we went through all that in the Sixties, and the magnificent rise of the phoenix in the Seventies. Why, then – after all the blaze of publicity about a proud history and a bright future – do we now have an owner who treats the fans with such contempt? The answer may be (unpalatable as it may seem) that it could be that we deserve it after the manner in which Doug Ellis was treated; it may be our karma.
Bringing in a ‘foreign’ philosophy (of karma) into the equation may not seem to be appropriate, but, if anything, life has taught me that we need to reflect on what we do. What goes around, comes around, they say.
I near the exit from this article with my remembrance of the pre-Sixties, when fans would applaud the play of the opposition, when opposing players would fetch the ball for the goal kick to be taken, and when cautions and sendings-off were a rarity.
Players probably took more physical punishment then than they do now (an older fan reminded me recently how our George Cummings used to despatch Stanley Matthews into the terraces!), yet they usually took their punishment in a stoical manner. We thought they were gods in their attitude to the game in the days of the leather ball, which used to weigh a ton when it was wet.
All that does not solve the club’s current situation. We cannot bring back the past. But we can try to be more stoical – beating the same old drum does not help anything. In fact it can make matters worse.
I believe the fans need to be heard by the owner. Let’s tell him directly that “it’s just not fair that hard-earned money is wasted every match at Villa Park”. Let’s tell him directly that “Aston Villa is a great club that should be leading the Midlands”. Let’s tell him directly that our patience is running short. Let’s remind him of Villa’s home stats over the past 3 years.
Each of us can write him a letter. Or e-mail Paul Faulkner and fill his e-mail box.
The Author
