The Sacred and the Soccer

Nice little piece on the question "Can football grounds be sacred" from Peter Crumpler.

And obviously the answer is "yes". A football ground is a place where people are brought together as a community, to share their hopes and to believe in something better. I have in the past heard people say that supporters "worship" the players, but you know what, I reckon that's not true. I remember Nick Hornby's wise words in "Fever Pitch" whereby he basically said that footballers aren't, for most fans, heroes - they're representatives.  In a way, they're more like priests than demigods. When they're playing well - as in a fantastic little piece of a dribble I saw from Mohammed Salah yesterday - they are the way in which we are taken out of ourselves. But when they're doing badly, they know all about it.

And personally, having been present at one of the times the anniversary of Hillsborough has been marked with a minute's silence, there's nothing quite so like 50,000 normally extremely noisy people standing perfectly quiet. There's a haunting nature to the silence, as you hear sounds from outside the ground, the flap of the occasional flag, even a bird on the pitch.

And who can't be impressed by "Abide with me"? A hymn about death, and yet one that is so redolent of the Resurrection. And sung every May at the FA Cup Final.

But a sport played by the young is always a reminder that things pass. The sprightly youngster becomes the seasoned veteran, then the failed manager, and finally becomes another person remembered once with a minute's silence. As Melissa puts it in "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air":

But youth will pass. Men, growing old
approach a different kind of goal
and though they're now so brave and bold 
They won't be, as the years turn cold.

Supporters, in this stadium vast
one day will also breathe their last.

Football grounds, like churches, can become places where people want to spend all eternity. And I'm speaking literally here, not metaphorically about having to endure a goalless Birmingham derby. That just feels like it. There's a story about Bill Shankly (of course) who was asked if someone could have his ashes scattered on the pitch at Anfield. Someone suggested scattering them on the penalty spot. But Shankly said, not there - he could jump up and stop a goal. So he was scattered on the wing instead. And many people have chosen to have their favourite team run over their mortal remains for the winter months. Truly "hallowed turf".

All this causes problems, of course, when we remember that football grounds are actually much more temporary than we like. As Melissa continues:

The flags will be brought down the mast
And time will every feature blast.

And every brick and stanchion strong
Will be brought down before too long
And weather, age, or warring throng
Will bring an end to football song

500 people had their ashes scattered at Highbury over the years. So when the ground was redeveloped and the Gunners moved to Emirates, those ashes were respected.  Apparently you can't have your ashes scattered at the Emirates. Which is ironic, because it's as quiet as the grave on match days.

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