THE FINAL COUNTDOWN...

As this extraordinary `campaign` for the EU Referendum reaches the final countdown in the next few days, I hope I`m not alone in being fed up with all the claims and counter claims, the confusion of statistics, promises, pledges, forecasts, reports and `expert opinion.`

For me at least, whilst determinedly hanging on to the courage of my convictions, I wonder if our `leaders` realise that the more I feel I am being treated as some lectured, threatened, bullied and dimwitted peasant, the more determined I become to resist all of that and cast my vote in the opposite way to that which I am being hectored to do.

Come Friday when, thank God it will all be over, I suspect that once again I will find myself not only in a minority but also disappointed at the outcome.   But, hey, I`m a Saints fan and I know all there is to know about disappointment and bewilderment, especially now that the Chairman of the Premier League has today confirmed that `all 20 clubs currently in the Premier League are in favour of remaining in the EU.`  Well, that`s that then.  I`ll go back to posting some nice photos and some decent music.

OH DEAR...

Recent events at Southampton have meant that the onset of another Premier League season in just three weeks time is being looked at with something of a jaundiced view. Now as a Saints fan since my Dad first took me to The Dell in 1946 you would think that I had grown used to the ups and downs (literally,) the slings and arrows, the false dawns and the perennial bewilderment that comes with the territory, but the selling of most of last year`s successful team, along with the mysteries of the boardroom, have raised new questions about what seems to be a one-way street of loyalty between the football club and its fans.

My suspicion is that the real culprit here is the Premier League itself. Rather than being a reasonable contest between teams playing football, it has instead become a contest between those with the biggest cheque books.  It has become a contest between financial egos (Abramovich, Sheik Mansour, the Glazers et al) and when Southampton were bought by the late Markus Liebherr there was the fleeting notion that we might sup at the same table.   A whimsical notion indeed, as Southampton is not part of some sprawling conurbation, St. Mary`s Stadium holds a mere 32,000 and our place in the food chain has always seen our talented academy graduates being gobbled up by the wolf gang higher up the ladder (Walcott, Oxlade-Chamberlain, Bale, Shaw, Lallana and so on.)

So it is with a shrug of inevitability that I face the new season with mixed feelings - last season we had the impertinence to reach our glass ceiling and next season brings once again the prospect of a struggle for survival with a hugely depleted squad, an accidental owner in the late Markus`s daughter quite probably looking to sell the club to the highest bidder and a boardroom headed by an ice hockey coach.   

Part of me wants the Saints to survive and prosper, especially after all these years of sticking by them, but another part of me almost wishes (and I know I should be careful what I wish for) that we could get back to where the hopes and expectations are reduced and where competition is that elusive but reasonable contest between teams playing football.   As for the Premier League ("The best league in the world (tm)") it reminds me more and more of food retailing - it has become the Waitrose of football, catering for an affluent niche customer base, where quality and price may be of less concern than the cache of being seen in there, whereas those like me who remember flat caps and rattles might prefer the unpretentious surroundings of the nearest Aldi.

High up on the Hampshire Downs above the Meon Valley lies the village of Hambledon, once, in the 1760s and 1770s, the home of the most successful village cricket team in the land.  On Broadhalfpenny Down`s fabled pitch, Hambledon took on and beat all comers - even the All England team.   In 1908, when cricket returned to the village after a 116-year absence, a celebratory match was arranged when Hambledon again beat an All England side.   Even then, The Times was lamenting the change in the way cricket was played and organised: "from an occasional pastime, marked by geniality and rapture, into a more or less mechanical trade."

And so today, as the Premier League is gearing up for the next ten predictable months of the Super Sundays, Magic Mondays and Midweek Specials of its more or less mechanical trade, my heart sinks a little, not just for Southampton`s prospects but also for the long ago passing of geniality and rapture.

Oh dear!

LIVESTOCK EXCHANGE..

At 11.00pm last night, yet another transfer window was firmly closed and I noted with some astonishment that no less than £490million had been spent by football clubs buying players.   Most of that money was spent by clubs in the Barclay's Premier League and most of it, at least 90% I would guess, spent on foreign players.

The whole thing is reminiscent of a cattle market, with players coming and going, sometimes with little or no prior notice and it`s all supposed to be in the cause of strengthening the club squads.   This might be true in most cases, but too often I hear the phrase `good business` which kind of gives the game away and confirms that the commercial interests of the clubs come way ahead of the personal interests of the players.  There is also the discomfort of hearing the announcements of just how much money has been spent in the transfer window, as if that in itself is a yardstick for success in the chest beating triumphalism of the Premier League.

There are, of course, some players who move happily and willingly to take their places in the highest echelons of the game in this country but there are, sadly, others who are `moved on` with all the disruption to family life that is involved.   A good example is Billy Sharp, bought by Southampton from Doncaster Rovers as recently as last January.   He came to St. Mary`s with a good goal scoring record but also on the back of a family tragedy with the loss of his young son shortly after he was born.

The Saints fans took to Billy not just for the goals he scored but also for the man he was and I for one had hoped that he might have found some life enhancing stability on the south coast.   However, late in last night`s proceedings, he was shipped out to Nottingham Forest where he must try once more to adjust, to settle and forge a new future for himself and his family.   I suppose there`s no room for sentiment in the ruthless results driven business in the `best league in the world (tm)` but sometimes it seems as if some attention by the animal rights activists, if not the Professional Footballers Association, might not come amiss.  

I`m afraid the culture of the livestock market is yet another reason why I am more and more viewing life in the Premier League with some distaste.   It`s not the game itself that I have played, refereed and watched for over half a century that gives me a problem, it`s the grievous bodily harm done to it by rampant commercialism, arrogance and assumed entitlement.

THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR

Yesterday was a conspicuous day.   The nation gripped by the fever of the Olympics, the financial world continuing to reel under the Eurozone crisis, the appalling carnage in Syria and so on.   And on the south coast, whilst the blue few of Portsmouth continue to lurch, like lemmings, towards the cliff edge of liquidation, I had an e-mail from Southampton advising me that yesterday was the very last day when I could purchase a season ticket for the coming Premier League season.

So I pondered on the conspicuousness of this invitation and the decision with which I was faced and tried to put it into some kind of context.   I thought about the 65 years of following the Saints since my Dad first took me to the Dell in 1947, about the enjoyment of meeting up with good friends, revisiting my boyhood village and retracing the steps of my many pilgrimages to follow the red and white.

And then I thought about the season ahead and the daunting prospects that await the return to the `best league in the world (tm)` and any enthusiasm I might have had began to melt away.   First, the cost of it all.   If I were to accept the invitation to purchase a season ticket, even as an old age pensioner struggling to survive on a fixed income during the most difficult of economic times, it would set me back around £600. 

Add in the cost of petrol for my 250 miles round trip, a matchday programme, a sumptuous repast in M. Hulot`s Patisserie on Town Quay, the odd `incidental,` and the expense involved begins to approach arm and leg proportions.   Never mind the tediousness of a long drive home in the dark winter nights, quite possibly after the occasional crushing defeat with only Alan Green and the assorted numbskulls of 606 for company.

But in the end what really made my mind up was the Premier League itself and I asked myself whether I really wanted to part with a shed load of cash to watch all the usual suspects invading St. Mary`s Stadium - the millionaire poseurs of United, Citeh, the Arse; the Neanderthal management of Ferguson, Pulis, Allardyce and their ilk accompanied by their Mongol hordes; Wenger and his incessant whingeing; the strange kick-off times to accommodate Sky television; the rampant greedy, excessive commercialism of it all and the added distaste left in the wake of the Terry/Ferdinand scuffle, the instant conclusions of the Twitterati and other unseemly appendages to what was once the beautiful game.


And it occurred to me that even asking the question of myself, provided the answer for me.   So, whilst my loyalty to and my affection for the Saints will remain undiminished, my preference will be, for this coming season at any rate, to follow their progress from a discreet distance, as I have concluded that I really can do without the Premier League and all it has to offer.   I suspect Mr. Scudamore and his chums will feel the same about me but sometimes considered discretion is better than some strange kind of compulsive, misguided `valour .`   

....AND THEY WONDER WHY..

So, Manchester United midfielder Michael Carrick has announced that he `would consider` selection for the England national team once again.   Having asked not to be considered for selection for the recent European Championships, Carrick `has not ruled out` a return to the England set-up.

"I`ve had no contact from Roy Hodgson (the England manager) so it would be wrong of me at this stage to make a decision either way," said Carrick, "but I would consider it, definitely."   Now it strikes me that the business of selection for the national team lies exclusively in the hands of Roy Hodgson, rather than for players to `consider` whether they would like to be part of the England squad.

But Carrick`s statement holds no surprises, for it encapsulates much of the arrogance displayed by Manchester United, their impossible manager and many of their players, Carrick included.   And they wonder why they are held in deep contempt and why those, like me, are turning their backs on the Premier League and all the excess and arrogance that it represents.

FIXATION...

Just a short while ago, the Premier League concluded a deal with Sky that will see them rake in over £3billion in the next three years.   Today we learn that Barclays have concluded a deal with the Premier League that will see a further £120million paid to the self-styled `best league in the world` for the continuation of Barclays` sponsorship.


The report states that "It is another sign of the popularity of PL football after last month`s 70% increase in the value of its domestic tv rights.   In addition to giving Barclays global title sponsorship of the league, it also provides exclusive worldwide marketing rights for the bank, plus extensive advertising rights, tickets and hospitality."   Not much talk of football in all that.   Barclays are, of course, in the news for its role in the Libor interest rate fixing scandal and have been fined $435million for making false reports of its borrowing costs from 2005 to 2009.   


Now a couple of things occur to me.   The first is that the Premier League are supposed to have a `fit and proper persons` test for people running football clubs and I do wonder whether Barclays really are fit and proper to be the flagship sponsors of the Premier League?   On the other hand, maybe they just deserve each other.   Anyway, secondly, as they are seemingly so adept at fixing things, maybe Barclays can fix it to ensure Southampton`s survival for one season at least?