The Emotional Attachment of Football And The ‘Contract’ Between Fan and Club. 

This summer saw many Wolves fans proclaim their displeasure at the actions of Wolverhampton Wanderers, upset at steep season ticket price rises for the 24/25 campaign. Many claimed they would never set foot inside Molineux again, so irate were they by the actions of the club. Jeff Shi was public enemy number one and was going to be the subject of mass chanting at the first game back. In addition, numerous fans said they would not buy any merchandise, food or the new club shirt. We were all going to stand together to protect those who were being priced out of the game.   

I remember thinking to myself, ‘yeah right, I’ll believe that when I see it.’  

To be fair, fan group petitions were handed in, protesting at the increases, and the mood music lasted for about three weeks, until the club relented to a small degree and scrapped the planned increases for u/14s, not to mention the promise of a price freeze for next season, assuming we stay in the top flight. 

This stopped the planned rebellion in its tracks with many, seemingly happy to be seen sporting the new shirt and professing their love for all things Wolves.  

Please note that I am not criticising those who do so, as each of us are our own masters when it comes to the morals of business and football. We all have our decisions to make.  

Likewise, I am not here to discuss the actions of Jeff Shi but merely to comment on the choice of fans to make the ultimate sacrifice and withdraw their ‘labour’ from watching Wolves, by choosing not to renew their season ticket. 

What I did find irritating, though, was that the summer communication from the club implied that we should be grateful for the involvement of Fosun and that we should just pay up and do as we are told. As a punk rocker of some 56 years, I find it insulting that we should bow down before such corporate greed, in the vain hope that they may shower us with transfer cash. Quite frankly, we existed before Fosun put the gold into our gold and black suits and we will still exist after they depart, albeit dressed in more down-to-earth clothes.   

Equally, however, my irritation extends to those on the ‘terraces’ who expect a company to invest millions on a foreign football club, without realising that Fosun are an investment organisation – i.e they invest to make a profit, not to make the population of Wolverhampton happy.   

I should, of course, explain my own back story. I had a season ticket for home and away matches for the period 1987-2008, despite living in London. As an avid member of London Wolves, I went to all the games and lived for each match day. However, from around 2002 onwards I was losing interest and found that the number of matches I was attending was gradually reducing. The reason? I felt a disconnect between myself and the owners, who seemed to view supporters as ‘cash cows’. That, together with obscene wages paid to players, made me resent the modern game. Therefore, I felt like I was being exploited by experiencing this emotional pull to go to the matches, whilst at the same time being ripped off to fund rich peoples’ lifestyles. This was a direct contrast from the old 4th and 3rd Division days, when Bully was in his pomp, when each supporter truly felt like they were ‘all in it together’ with both club and team. In those days I honestly felt like I was letting the ‘lads’ down if I did not attend for whatever reason. As a result, I clocked up forty to fifty matches each season, reluctant to let down ‘me babbies.’ 

So, when I gave up my season ticket, for the season we got promoted to the Premier League the second time around, I did not feel a sudden loss, as the withdrawal had been a slow burner for me. I did, however, miss the friends I used to attend matches with, not to mention the heavy drinking sessions that made the Hoddle management years a tad more bearable. Indeed, so bad was the drinking that when my wife asked me what the score was, when I came home late at night, I usually had to consult Ceefax to find out myself. Mind you, I should have just said 1-1, as practically every game under Hoddle (2004-2006) seemed to end that way.   

Since then, I still attend the odd game and usually manage to catch most matches via the internet, but the ‘contract’ between myself and the club has been broken. I now watch as a casual ‘consumer’ rather than the ‘fanatic’ I once was.  

I only mention this as I guess many others went through the same thought processes when Jeff Shi announced his season ticket bombshell. Doubtless the people who did give up their season tickets now also miss their friends and the familiar match day routine, as much as the match itself – always the secondary attraction of football for me. That increase was the first sign of the current ‘contract’ breaking down between fan and club, a turn of events instigated by the owners. The away end at Brentford, on October 5, was the next sign of the contract being ripped apart, this time by the fans, with their chants about Fosun being direct and to the point.       

What I do say, though, is that the body and mind soon adapt to the change. Rather than endure hours stuck on a train I now have more free time to indulge in other interests, before the match starts. I watch the Wolves podcasts to keep in touch and feel a connection of sorts, albeit not one with the passion of those 1987-2002 years. 

Part of me thinks it is because I was going week in, week out, during our rebirth, that I find it so much harder to moan and fret about the tribulations of the Premier League. After all, when you have been at Molineux with only seven thousand fans in it, everything else is relatively rosy. During my time we have gone from free transfer signing Steve Stoutt at full back (from Huddersfield in 1985) to 36m Nelson Semedo (from Barcelona in 2020). Are things really that bad? 

And yet still people moan! 

Honestly, if people going today had experienced the problems we had back in the 1980s they would never say a word; trouble on the terraces, muddy pitches, ten-metre high fences, toilets that were worse than Glastonbury and grounds that were death traps in the making, as we sadly witnessed at Bradford (1985) and Hillsborough (1989).  

Nowadays we are blessed to have pitches that are pristine and wash basins with running water. Food now consists of a plethora of options, ranging from the poncy to the practical. Back in my day it was a burger with fried onions or a Mars bar. Botulism and a stomach full of grease was often the result, no matter the action on the pitch. 

And yet still we went.   

Yes, we are bottom of the league, but at least we still turn up at a ground that is largely covered from the rain and is stuck in the city centre, rather than being one of those hideous out of town monstrosities that have no soul in their shiny new brickwork.   

Please note that I am most definitely not defending our current regime, who have totally lost touch with so-called ‘legacy’ fans, a term I hate. No, I just think we need to understand that the link between fans and club, throughout football, has been stretched to breaking point. It is now a game played and watched largely by people on above average wages, with any hint of it being a ‘working class’ game long gone. It is now a middle-class sport with the more feral, tribal and emotional aspect of fandom being secondary to the stock market listings of the respective club. If that is what you want, then commit your emotion to the ‘project’ and enjoy it. If you preferred football in the past, when the contract between player, club and fan was alive, then leave its current version alone.   

I think it is important to note that Wolves are not the only club to feel the ire of its fan base. Tottenham also felt a backlash over their plans to reduce concessions for pensioners – a problem that most clubs will have to address, given the rapidly ageing demographics of those who sit in the stands. The Premier League seem to think that everything in the garden is rosy, where it comes to stadium occupancy, as most games are sold out. However, the amount of grey hair and beer bellies on display is scary and football is at risk of pricing out a whole generation of younger fans, who cannot afford the entry fee and whose preferred form of entertainment seems to come almost exclusively from smartphones. The pips are most definitely squeaking at admission prices up and down the country, as we see at Molineux with empty seats now on display. Clearly, being a genuine ‘fan’ of football involves long hours of expensive dedication for little or no reward. For clubs like Wolverhampton, it probably involves even more hours of effort for even less reward, as our chairman alluded to this past summer. However, he has a point as our last major honour was the League Cup in 1980, a competition that the big boys now consider the last resort in trophies.   

I often ask myself; am I sad that I sacrificed all those years at football? Not really, as I genuinely enjoyed it at the time. However, I am equally glad I stepped away when I did.  

I can see clearly now, as the ‘contract’ has broken down, for me at least. 

So, for those scared at the prospect of giving up their season ticket next season and the associated social exclusion I say do not be scared. If you genuinely feel like you have been let down by the club, then walk away. Honestly, you must have self-respect. If the game does not respect you, then you owe it nothing. 

Nothing at all.