Football, as we knew it, is gone.
Our understanding of the game has changed beyond recognition, and as much as we long for a return to a bygone age; that will sadly forever remain a pipedream.
Our long wish to see terraces return at football matches won’t happen, or if it does it will be way beyond the time when anybody who remembers them actually cares about standing anymore.
Ticket prices will never drop down to an affordable level; and will just keep on rising. Your club stopped caring about you a long time ago, and if you aren’t going to pay it, then they’ll just charge more for your mate to go to cover the cost.
Player’s wages will never fall in line with reality, and it won’t be long until even the most average performers are on at least a hundred thousand pounds a week. In fact that’s already happening.
Managers will not be given time; they’ll continue to be sacked after a few defeats. We simply must stop being surprised by this news.
Your favourite player will leave the club you support. They won’t stay because you tweeted him to say you love him; he won’t come back because you tweeted him to say he’s a dick.
Fans will not become more rational. In fact they’ll probably just get more furiously myopic; and demand more for their money. They are less fans now, more customers, and the customer wants their money’s worth. Failure will not be tolerated quietly.
TV companies will continue to buy every scrap of football; and offer you the chance to pay a lot of money to watch it. Before too long the FA Cup will be via subscription only; and even the World and European Cups will be on BT vision.
Hull City will soon be Hull Tigers, and Cardiff City already plays in red. Your team will probably change their name to the Budweiser Angels or The Bay City Rollers, depending on the whims of a rich chairman. MK Dons won’t be the only team to up sticks and move to an area that is more profitable. Expect to see Portsmouth playing in Bridlington sometime soon.
Football became a business a long time ago, and long since past the point of no return. All that is still recognisable is twenty two men, kicking a ball about, on grass. As long as you still want to see that; then the rest probably doesn’t matter all that much.