Crushing One Another with Colossal Expectations

Ron Waller

2008 rolls into town with SMBU mildly smug to still have an article entitled Why Paul Lambert Must Stay adorning its front page, dated during the same time certain Wycombe fans were calling for the manager to be sacked. An unspectacular but efficient trot into a play-off position has calmed that stroppy period, like a old man dishing out the broken biscuits to a teary eyed grandson. There, there, it’s not a Galaxy bar, but it’ll fill a hole.

My own stance on the performance of Paul Lambert as manager is probably a bit kind, and a bit gushing, but then when you think, as I do, that the long term future of the club is more important than short term gains, you tend to be a bit more patient and forgiving. Which is all a bit quaint I suppose, like the habit of buying a programme instead of reading on-line version, which is a bit like pouring a jug of water over your head in the bath to wash your hair, while a brand new power shower stares back at you unused from the far end of the tub.

So maybe quaint is the correct adjective for dismissing SMBU in 2008, rather than 2007’s cynical bollocks. We hear the criticism of players, management and tea bar staff and it’s spiteful and empty. Wycombe Wanderers will lose and draw football matches in 2008 and there’s nothing the tetchy grousing from sections of the Wycombe support can do about it. Look for the silver lining, take pride, put spring in your step, the Blues are seventh and it could be a lot worse.

And we hear the repetitive appeals for more noise from the Wanderers crowd, and they curdle our earwax. Who cares? Do the players care? Not if the home record is anything to go by. Are we supposed to be lying awake at night, sweating like a post-fuck adulterer, racked with guilt that Adams Park is a pretty quiet ground? Well I’m not. There seems to be desperation for an idiosyncratic Wycombe anthem, or thing, a catch that makes the club unique. So why not use that? We don’t sing. We don’t make much noise. We generally, bar a few die-hard kids behind the goal who just won’t let it go, don’t sing dreary, generic, football chants with one word changed. There you go, there’s your hook kids. Stop tiring yourself out thinking of songs, and stop campaigning for the Adam’s Apple reunion to GET THINGS GOING. If Wycombe had a trumpet player in the crowd, I’d hope he’d be stood in the far corner of the Valley terrace, facing the wall, roaring his way through a note perfect, piercing version of Venus de Milo. If the Wycombe crowd has to have a drummer, I hope he’s repeatedly rolling out Rick Buckler’s tumbling drum intro to The Bitterest Pill, frowning disappointedly at anyone who tries to clap along or start singing.

Everyone knows that Crystal Palace supporters are incredibly meek and socially inadequate, because they are haunted by the ghost of former goalkeeper Billy Callendar, who hung himself from a beam in the Old Stand at Selhurst Park in 1932. Well now everyone knows that Wycombe fans don’t sing, because they find the generic, tiresome, tacky, crappy, acrylic shirt and trackie b’s world of the Super Coca-Cola Football Fan an absolute pile of shit.

Steve Hayes, like myself, became more involved with Wycombe Wanderers through a 6ft 5 mate. Presumably he decided to invest time, effort and money, and smoke cigars down Hillbottom Road because he enjoyed it. Just like I enjoyed standing on the far right side of the Valley terrace throughout the 1990s, hearing tales of Kettering away, comparing the B-sides of Gang of Four and listening intently to the uber-camp debate on the best looking Wanderers player of the O’Neill era. Some home games the atmosphere was literally like an audio book of Rip It Up and Start Again, the Sanchez era more like Hammer of the Gods, the Smillie era more like Of Mice and Men. The point is that it was enjoyable, and I hope Steve Hayes still enjoys watching Wycombe with his mates, and that the hard work and money are worth it. Because that’s all watching football is – having an enjoyable time with friends. Rip apart all the pompous statements of heritage, history and the soul of the game and all that’s left is something that’s enjoyable to do, occasionally gripping to watch, welcoming to all, and the friendships that are made, stories that are told, memories and jokes that are shared. If that part of it didn’t exist, then football wouldn’t be the most popular game in the entire world. It might not even exist at all.

When Steve Hayes meets the moaning hard-core of the gasroom, and perhaps SMBU, I hope the old ground is left well alone. Hayes thinks the future of the club lies with Wasps and a new ground, many of us don’t. But its years down the line. There are councils, residents associations, rugby clubs, six supporters clubs, four or five supporters trusts, religious groups, soccer Moms, card schools and naturist societies that all need to be appeased before a site for a new stadium can even be agreed. Do I really have to spend my time arguing one way or the other for the next five years? Does it have to be that sour? Watching Wycombe is supposed to be fun, and it is fun, and I hope that if Steve Hayes holds a meeting with the feared dissenting agitators of the gasroom, then there’s karaoke, or a Playstation tournament, or Kevin Betsy returns to run a quiz. Or at very least a decent spread, with pickled eggs.

Positive things happen to positive people, say the club. Well that works both ways. There’s nothing positive about pouring over every word written in the gasroom, making demons out of those who dare to think differently to the PLC, tracking their every move. There’s nothing positive about taking things too seriously - cheeky words written in humour by people bored at work trying to kill an afternoon. And conversely there’s nothing positive about pointing out grammatical errors or dead links on the Official Site, and smirking behind your hands. Those who work for the club and promote the glorious plastic, rugby soaked future will inevitably clash with those who remain completely unconvinced by the idea of a new ground, and the financial abyss that stares us in the face every day. Yet at the start of the New Year, it might just be time to take a step back and remember that both sides enjoy watching Wycombe Wanderers, and more importantly, care enough to debate and argue for how they think the long term future of the club can be secured, and enjoyed by future generations.

Because as Tucker Chump once wrote, I prefer it when Wycombe Wanderers score more goals than the opposition.

We all do.

Happy New Year.

04.01.2008. 09:55

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