This weekend marked the start of trophy-lifting season in England. The business end of the campaign is a period of giddy expectation for supporters of the big boys, though it’s rarely as thrill-packed for fans whose lovable rabble have descended into jaded mid-table irrelevance, without so much as the faint threat of relegation to keep the juices flowing. Thing is, you’ve got to get your kicks somehow. So once again, it’s that time of year when fans across the land hold their nose, take a deep breath, and hitch their wagon to another star.
Or, to put it more accurately, decide whose success in the Premier League, FA Cup and Championship would be the least annoying, least unpalatable, least injurious to the central nervous system. Those from the old school will immediately demur, recoiling at the very idea of searching out any result other than their own. But this is not adultery. Or even vicarious glory-hunting. You’re going to be reading about the exploits of all the winners throughout the spring, the summer, and in some cases forever more. It’s only natural that your instinct pursues the path of least resistance. The heart doesn’t want what it doesn’t want.
Tribal loyalties will dictate some decisions; you’d have to assume the majority of Old Trafford denizens will be hoping Tottenham taste Premier League glory come May. But what about the genuine neutral who’d struggle to express a preference from the trio of clubs chasing the title? Assuming such a person exists, the subconscious kicks into gear, whereupon vague feelings, half-formed opinions and minor crushes are invested with way more importance than is strictly warranted.
Perhaps they quite admire the clinical modernity of Pepball, don’t mind the heart-on-the-sleeve passion of Jürgen Klopp or are fairly impressed by the cheery relentlessness of Son Heung-min. Perhaps they mildly despise the influence of petrodollars, are slightly put off by lachrymose showtune singalongs or would rather not spend all next season listening to Manchester United fans bait their rivals, high on life, whacked off their noggins on schadenfreude. As we’ve known since 23 June 2016, previously insignificant beefs and long-dormant petty personal prejudices, suddenly revived and blown out of all proportion, inform everything nowadays.
But this needn’t be a wholly negative pursuit. Plump for a favourite in the title race and you’ll be rewarded with a mild buzz of righteousness should your selection prevail. If that team capitulates in widescreen style – just like you know your lot would, too – you’ll feel a warm inclusive glow upon realising crushing failure is not your preserve alone. And what’s that pleasant head rush? Why, it’s thundering indifference, of course. You’ve enjoyed all the benefits of mild distraction during the run-in, but suffered none of the searing existential pain when it all went mammaries-up. You had no real skin in the game. There’s nothing like gambling with house money.
The neutral can be even more generous of spirit as the FA Cup nears its denouement. Unless you want City to win a quadruple to irritate their cross-town rivals, a legitimate stance in some neighbourhoods, surely nobody sound of mind will be cheering for either Manchester team to win it. After all, five of the eight clubs remaining in the competition have never won the famous old pot. Take your pick, though in an ideal world Wembley hosts a Swansea-Millwall final. The reasons for this are three-fold: there hasn’t been a winner from the second tier since West Ham in 1980; Swansea have never reached an FA Cup final; and Millwall have never won a major trophy. Therefore, the Lions to beat the Swans by the odd goal in seven, please.
Not that supporting the underdog needs to be the default setting. Of the teams vying for promotion from the Championship, Bristol City stand out. The Robins have enjoyed two brief spells in the top flight. The most recent is mainly remembered for the brazenly uneventful eking-out of an “Disgrace of Gijón”-style draw with Coventry in 1977 that ensured the survival of both teams at the expense of a furious Sunderland. City’s first stint saw them finish second, but that was in 1907, so our neutral may conclude another shot at the big time is long overdue.
But who goes up with them? In broad historical terms, Norwich are the next smallest of the competing bunch. They’re also the best team in the division, if the way they systematically dismantled Leeds recently is anything to go by. But they’ve had a fair few cracks at the top flight lately. Leeds, by contrast, have suffered more than enough; ditto fellow fallen giants Nottingham Forest. All fair-minded neutrals – and so many are fair-minded about Leeds – would love to see these two back, adding extra big-game glamour to the Premier League. Also, we’d be three steps closer to replicating the old First Division of the Football 79 album, a most agreeable realignment of the stars. (Your first-ever Panini album contains all the definitive top-flight clubs, too, right?)
Hands up: chances are you consider all of the above to be arrant poppycock. But then that’s the whole point. Your inner neutral will have good reasons of its own and be cranking into gear right about now. Here’s hoping they maintain you, maybe even generate a frisson of excitement, while your true loves amble aimlessly toward the season’s end.