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The Voice of Bantam Progressivism revisited

Bradford City: The City Gent

I am firmly of the opinion that the editor of this august publication has a peculiarly weird sense of humour. Who in Bradford actually understands the word progressivism never mind makes it the subtitle of the City fanzine? I hate to admit it but I live within easy reach of Valley Parade and believe me there just ain’t no-one who would understand and that goes for the Richmond family as well.

My grandfather moved to Yorkshire during the Second World War when the East End was being bombed and Leeds wasn’t. So he taught us that the rule was to support our nearest team, Leeds, and also to have a sneaking admiration for the one love of his life, West Ham – he was born in East Ham and apparently it’s not far away.

Thus the first time I visited Valley Parade was when my nephews were reaching that age when normally their father would introduce them to their local side. In the absence of a father, and he had been absent for such a long time, a willing Aunt will do. After a particularly boring 0-0 draw at Chester – bearing in mind that from a Leeds supporter this is a damning statement – my youngest nephew was heard asking "Do we have to pay to get out?". OK, with me so far – so the production of an informative, interesting and witty fanzine was a real surprise. I’m beginning to wonder if the excitement on the pitch is in inverse proportion to the wit and repartee contained in the fanzine. Of course that couldn’t possibly apply to Wrexham which naturally has both writing and footballing talent!

I have decided though that the few citizens of Bradford with creative writing A-levels must all be City fans. For not only did I understand their reports but some were amusing/heartfelt/tragic/or just downright sensible. It seems that City is a team aspiring to the highest possible level of the game but tragically held back by the inability of the Chairman, Geoffrey Richmond, to allow the vast amounts of money which have been spent on players which will actually benefit the side. It would appear that the summer expenditure was welcomed by the supporters but with the reservation that it was less with a plan and more with the desire to be seen to be spending more than any of the other First Division sides. I can’t believe that anyone would recklessly spend their own fortune on crap players but until Isaiah Rankin performs up to his price (if not his talent) the likelihood for criticism will always be there.

That said, I actually understood a lot of the comment in the magazine and it seems to be a trait of all contributors that the desperation for their team to perform well far outweighs the actual belief in the side. All masochists are football supporters because at some point their team will let them down but never quite when it’s expected.

Mary Lewis

Quiet desperation on the Preston by-pass

Preston NE: Pie Muncher

Most men, said Goethe ‘lead lives of quiet desperation’, especially if they support a team that was once one of the greats of English football, but is now merely making up the numbers. But, supporters of Preston North End can seek solace in Pie Muncher, which is a monster of a good read, with some good writing, humour, and laid-out with a professional touch.

Issue 32’s highlight was a bumper 10-page interview with one of the gods – Tom Finney, who tells what it was like in the days when players served apprenticeships, lived in holes in the ground, ate shovelfuls of gravel for breakfast, and have wives called Elsie and arrived at the ground by bus. An article worthy of a wider readership.

Amongst the other articles, I liked the one where two ordinary fans sampled life in an executive suite courtesy of two complimentary tickets. In fact, no self-respecting fanzine should be without such an article, sampling not just their own executive suites, but executive suites worldwide. In fact, there could even be (perhaps there already is) a magazine called Which Executive Suite, for fans who choose their team not on the basis of some long-standing familial connection, but on the thickness of the carpets, the smoothness of the velour upholstery, and the sweetness of the champagne.

Readability though would be much improved by the incorporation of some paragraphs in the text - perhaps the editor was off school the day the English teacher taught how useful they can be, for breaking slabs of text down into bite-size chunks, but reading Pie Muncher without these little white spaces was at times like picking the bobbles off a polyester sweater – a bit of a chore.

Steve O’Loughlin