Us and them. Sadly missed?

A notable feature of football support in most of the world is how teams are supported mostly according to locale and region. Indeed in some parts of the world, the Catalunyan capital of Barcelona being the most obvious example, the local team is an intrinsic part of local identity. It embodies all that the people of the area hold dear about their locality and the fortunes of the team have a huge effect on the general mood and outlook of an area. In much the same way that for Spanish nationalists and royalists FIFA founder member, Real Madrid are often the second favourite team for most Spaniards outside of the capital, and indeed the health of Spanish football is gauged by the relative success of Los Meringues.

In some places the football team you support even indicates which caste of society you consider yourself to belong to. In Buenos Aires the working class folk from the slums all congregate at La Bombonera to be led in song and chanting by their most famous son Diego Maradona, while the historically upper class is to be found in the white of their (literally) fierce rivals River Plate. Of course this is by and large a generalisation but the distinction certainly holds true for most.

Similarly in that little island off the coast of France, regional identity is first and foremost in the decision as to who to support and perhaps even more importantly who to direct all the bile and venom you can manage towards. The wonderful council-house dwellers of the red-half of Merseyside only have one feeling more intense than their love for the Dragon emblem, and that is their hatred of their cousins over in the red bit of Manchester. Quite why anyone would expend that much energy competing for the title of Blighty’s yobbiest welfare class is beyond me, but then again my people never ruled the waves, so what do I know?

Perhaps the zenith (nadir?) of football as a social metaphor is in the religious divide between Celtic and Rangers fans over in Glasgow, though just how a people who did a good collective job of stealing the credit for as fine a liquid fortifier as whisky from the prodigies over in Ireland, can have the energy to take a (relatively) minor squabble onto football pitches is beyond me.

Curiously local football hasn’t had such a geographically based culture of support in decades. Not since the heyday of local teams in the 60s to 80s. Back then Durban was a fortress for the African Wanderers, Bush Bucks (the decent ones from Durban, not the piss-poor Eastern Cape version). Back then Orlando East was an all-night party when the Almighty Buccaneers won, people were careful about their black and white combos in Phefeni and everyone in Mamelodi knew the sky and only the sky was the limit while Zola Mahobe had cash to splash. If you stayed in a hostel, owned a knobkerrie or two and had a propensity for meting out physical retribution at the slightest provocation you were in the stands shouting (Zulu men do not scream. Ever) “Hebe’Usuthu” at Princess Magogo come the weekend.

For sure Chiefs and Pirates with the then Mighty Dube Birds — a not so distant third — were always the most popular teams around but when they were in your neighbourhood you knew where your bread was buttered. Nowadays such fervent loyalty is to be found in pockets around the country. Places like Bloemfontein and their wonderful Siwelele, the love the people of Limpopo have for Black Leopards, such are few and far between. The closest I ever came to a geographical connection with Pirates was when I lived in Jabulani, Soweto for the first few months of my life but that aside my undying devotion to the only SA team to win the CAF Champions Cup had everything to do with my father’s brilliant indoctrination skills and nothing about being true to any roots. Hell, I was born in Lamontville but I wasn’t most pleased when Golden Arrows defeated The Happy People Tsunami.

‘Tis a curious phenomenon and one that I feel is open to some study and understanding. Certainly the marketing prowess of the Big Two cannot be discounted and neither would it be anything short of churlish to blame them for the near death of local pride in SA football. But when a team has the ‘home’ advantage 600km from their real home, something surely is wrong. While most teams likely will never match the financial and ensuing publicity and marketing power of Pirates and those limp wrists in gold and black we must learn from the example of the happy hordes who fill stadiums to the brim every time Celtic are playing and sing to high heaven whatever the result. That on a match day can make up for all but the biggest gulfs in resources. Not to mention restoring a pride in one’s community that is sorely lacking in today’s society.

That said, I remain a Buccaneer for life.

Once a Pirate and all that.