The Pandemic and The Football Fan

A tale as old as time – mankind needs to watch twenty-two sweaty athletes kick a ball for ninety minutes to maintain sanity. 

 

In the midst of a global pandemic, the days have rolled into a monotonous series of boredom and mild hysteria. Watching my favourite team, or even my least favourite, has become a welcome dose of unpredictable, spontaneous entertainment in a generally dull and subdued time.

 

March 2020 – the national month of hand soap and loo roll. Amongst the panicked shoppers and lockdown banana bread-makers, the general mood of the nation was relatively hopeful. I was similarly positive as I naively thought the postponement of all football was just a reasonable precaution and we would be back in the stands by summertime. Well, how could I have predicted that a year later I would not have smelt another cup of Bovril or got an earache from an angry, potty-mouthed fan beside me. 

 

When the Premier League returned with ‘Project Restart’ in June 2020, it was like Christmas morning as a child. The anticipation that had led to that exact moment, and the sheer joy when opening the gift of an exhilarating 0-0 draw was like no other feeling I had experienced since the pre-lockdown days. As I watched my beloved Aston Villa escape the claws of relegation on the last day of the season, hiding behind the sofa instead of my old man in the stands of Villa Park, I was completely distracted from the pains of pandemic life.

 

Yet it is these gut-wrenchingly tense moments that you long to experience amongst your fellow fans. Celebrating Premier League survival on the last day of the season consisted of heartburn in front of the telly - a far cry from the sheer ecstasy felt when in the stands. 

 

As lockdown three rolled around, the desire for escapism and entertainment became even more intense than ever. The long, dark winter months were screaming out for football at every level, whether it be the battle for Football League survival or the scrap for a Champions League spot. Any ounce of unpredictability was a treat in comparison to the monotonous boredom of daily life in lockdown. 

 

There is now a constant internal conflict between cherishing the congested fixture list while simultaneously dreading another virtual matchday. My Dad first walked me up the steps of Villa Park in 2007, an early May day in which my eight-year-old self was terrified of the dizzying heights of the Trinity Road Stand. Since then, our seats in the Upper Trinity have become an integral part of our fan experience, and the pandemics cruel separation between us and our club has left a hole in our spirits. 

 

We have watched Villa’s best season since 08/09 behind a screen. I have not been able to cheer the names of new and already well-loved players, nor give my necessary criticism during poor performances. The soul of the game has been torn out, and with it, a small part of our lives has been torn away, too. 

 

I sit in the living room almost every evening and tune into whatever football fix I can sink my teeth into. The virtual reality of sport behind-closed-doors is enough to muster brief excitement and engagement, but this fizzles out into a subtle sadness when we realise that we once graced these stadia with our chesty songs and tearful celebrations.

 

The pandemic and the football fan is a tale that will never be forgotten amongst all living football lovers. This period of anxious separation has shown that we are the blood, sweat and tears of the beautiful game. Never again will we take those cold, plastic seats and overpriced drinks for granted. Football needs us as much as we need it.