Firstly to clarify something that really shouldn’t need clarifying.
The Luke Shaw injury on Tuesday evening in Eindhoven was both hideous and cruel and everyone – no matter their allegiance – is wishing the Manchester United and England left-back a full and speedy recovery.
However, the planned minute’s applause throughout the 23rd minute of this weekend’s game at St Mary’s when his present and former club meet is surely another harbinger that football is becoming too awash in sentimentality. Every other week there seems to be a minute’s commemoration either in silence or applause for some lost soul while black armbands are becoming so commonplace you suspect at times it’s for the passing of the chairman’s cat. And now we’re paying our respects to an injury?
On your behalf – because we’re good like that – we’ve peered through the looking glass to see what an average Premier League fixture will become ten years from now.
Tissues at the ready…
1pm – The stadium is already full to capacity as supporters turn up two hours prior to kick-off for what has become the customary ‘Matchday Memorial’. This equates to sustained clapping – a minute apiece – for the 120 most prominent supporters across the globe who have passed since the previous home game.
Hand gel is routinely distributed with every ticket along with a leaflet warning of the dangers of palm trauma.
Meanwhile the campaign to lengthen the Matchday Memorial to two and a half hours continues. This began after a rare occurrence of 128 prominent supporters popping their clogs in the space of one week following a cold snap last winter. Fans duly stayed behind for an additional eight minutes, with some consequently missing the start of X Factor.
2.50pm – The players emerge head bowed to honour the 55,000 people in the UK who suffer from the plight of Cricked Neck Syndrome, a debilitating condition that can strike when you sleep funny.
The NCNA (National Cricked Neck Association) is this weekend’s Premier League designated charity with similar tributes being paid across the country.
It has now become customary for players to honour each charity in an appropriate manner. This week’s head bowing is fine but Crohn’s UK did complain recently when Wayne Rooney, Sergio Aguero and the others ran onto the pitch clutching their stomachs and pretending to look for the nearest toilet.
3.03pm – The first of numerous bursts of applause, this one in tribute to a gravely ill local MP who was once three-years-old.
3.07pm – At this particular fixture another sixty seconds of solemn ovation rings out as all in attendance remember what occurred at the previous match. In the seventh minute the home side’s creative midfielder went down holding his thigh. He had to go off.
The away supporters heartily join in with the testimonial.
3.08pm – The home fans offer up a minute of thunderous applause in appreciation of the away fans class.
3.19pm – The deadlock is broken and the jubilant striker peels away in celebration. Fulfilling his contractual obligation he lifts up his shirt to supposedly reveal a t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘Premier League – Against Racism Since That Whole Suarez Incident’.
Instead he has swapped it for a t-shirt of his own that warns of the perils of drugs and advocating that kids stay in school. He is later fined a year’s wages with an entire half of the following game given over to emotional applause from fans supporting his stance.
3.27pm – The first in-game sixty seconds of silence and both teams dutifully knock the ball around like West Germany v Austria in 1982.
A year earlier a foreign player – new to our shores and not yet accustomed to our ways – had the temerity to score during a similar minute of reflection. A supporter instinctively cheered and it all got very messy. The Premier League acted swiftly issuing a dictat that ensures that now, to accompany the ground falling still, even the most adventurous of players temporarily turn into Michael Carrick.
On this occasion the quietude is for the Bothans, many of whom died to bring the Rebel Alliance information concerning the Death Star.
3.45pm – Half-time and a cherubic boy no older than five walks unsteadily onto the pitch dressed in an adorable little suit and bow-tie. He stands in the centre-circle and cries for the whole duration of the break while Sigur Ros blares from the tannoy system. No-one questions why.
4.07pm – A rapturous rendition of Happy Birthday breaks out to celebrate the 52nd birthday of the team physio. Each player trots over to shake his hand.
4.15pm – In 1960 this fine club reached the quarter-finals of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup. Some of that legendary side has since departed this mortal coil while the goalkeeper was reduced to selling his story to a tabloid recently to purchase a crate of Special Brew.
Walter ‘Wizzy’ Brown meanwhile – who was once termed ‘the next Stanley Matthews’ after setting up all nine goals in a Fairs Cup group game in Bilbao – now suffers from mobility issues and requires a stick.
The ground rise as one from their seats and all hold hands while the two teams do likewise along the halfway line. Respect.
4.22pm – A dip in ratings results in a dramatic fire at the Dog In The Pond in Hollyoaks that rather conveniently culls the less popular characters. One of them was just 22 years of age. The ground grieves.
4.31pm – A game of football momentarily breaks out taking everybody by surprise.
4.41pm – Each week the players are allocated a full minute and vote for whichever tragedy or injustice that is dearest to their hearts to be suitably commemorated. On this occasion it is the closing of a local strip bar.
A handful of old-school supporters attempt to stir up a chant about how their town is full of tits, beer and the football club in question but are roundly whistled down. Next week they will unfurl a long banner apologising for their archaic views after the controversy makes it to the back pages.
4.47pm – After a couple of minutes of injury time – that is always played out in respectful silence to remember those who have pulled a ligament or tweaked a groin in the line of duty – the referee pulls out his bugle and plays the Last Stand.
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