I can’t decide between two great songs.
‘The Times They Are A Changin’ or ‘The Modern World’. Dylan versus Weller.
Both songs, both in title and lyrics, reflect how I feel about football and, indeed, Palace.
Let’s reminisce a little…
I’m not going to lie, I feel pretty lucky to have started my support for Palace when I did. My first game was on 14th March 1987. I was nine years old and compared to many, was quite a late starter. I had never watched much football and wasn’t interested in going much. I loved having a kick-around with my mates in the street and denting the neighbours’ garages we used as goals, but with both my parents working full-time to keep us all fed and watered, I never felt like I was missing anything.
Then, one Saturday, my Dad was bored at work and said he was going to take me to a game. Growing up a Chelsea fan, my Mum had reservations about where we would end up, but our local team, just minutes down the road, were at home to Birmingham City. I won’t pretend I remember very much about the day but I remember two things. The excitement at a 6-0 win (read more in the excellent ‘Back In The Day’ feature by Red ‘N Blue Army) and the fact that numbers two, four, six, eight and ten scored the goals. Even now, with a slight case of OCD, this pleases me!
I was hooked on football, and I think Dad knew it. In a vain effort to sway my allegiance, he took me to see Charlton Athletic play Chelsea a few weeks later. It was my first night game, it was a division higher, the crowd was double, we stood with the away fans. It ended goalless.
“So, which is it?”
“Which what?”
“Palace or Chelsea? You’ve got to pick one.”
“Well, Palace won 6-0 so it’s got to be them.”
I’m pretty sure he’s never been more disappointed in me!
That was that. We went to a couple more home games that season and had season tickets the next.
I said earlier I felt lucky and you can’t be any luckier than starting your ‘career’ as a supporter right at the beginning of the best period in the club’s history. We were flying under Steve Coppell for the next few years. Play off wins, cup finals, third in the league. Even though we moved away, it was still a great time to be a Palace fan. The relegations hurt, but the bouncing back was generally great fun. We were the first proper yo-yo team in the nineties, but every year had something to keep you interested.
It’s hard not to sound like one of those old fellas in the pub who talk about the ‘good ol’ days’, but skip forward nearly thirty years from my Palace debut and things just aren’t the same.
Despite some amazing performances, such as victory at the Bridge last year, another cup final and the odd ‘wow’ signing, the game has changed immeasurably and not always for the better.
For a club of our stature, with our recent history, nobody is going to argue that the money we have now isn’t making a massive difference but it just doesn’t feel like my club any more. It’s not the one I grew up with, that’s for sure.
In Dylan’s words, ‘you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone‘ and isn’t that just what we’ve become now?
We’re a small club. We’ll never be a Manchester United or a Liverpool, or even a Chelsea or a Tottenham. Yet as we sit here today, social media is full of fans amazed that we haven’t spent £32million on a striker. £32 MILLION. Is this really us trying to swim and avoid the near inevitable sink to the Championship? Or is that what football now is? I can’t pretend I wouldn’t be pleased with signing a player like Benteke. Of course I would, but the money is obscene.
Let’s be brutally honest here too. The whole situation isn’t helped by the club itself. The mixed messages and jumbled communications leave fans yearning for answers. As a business, and us as customers, they have no requirement to tell us what they are up to. But as fans, wecare owed more than that and with the evolution of social media, gossip is king. Everyone has an inside source. Everyone’s cousin has a mate who works with a bloke whose sister got chatted up by a player when she was out in Croydon one night.
I have been through too much to be over excited by a player joining, or even heartbroken by a player leaving. Games have caused me untold anguish at times but they have also provided uncontrollable ecstasy. Players come, players go. The Premier League merry-go-round.
Sometimes, all you want is that word of clarity. This never happened in the halcyon days of viewing transfers on Teletext. Or worse, Clubcall at £20 a minute. And we were happy with it, turning up on opening day to see a load of blokes you have never heard of nor seen.
Just imagine that now. Heaven!
But hey, this is the ‘Modern World’ I’ve learnt about. And it’s here to stay.
