Corporate interests vs 'authentic' fans: The new Premier League culture war (2024)

When Manchester City announced the arrangements for the sale of their 2024-25 season tickets, they produced a fast-paced, emotionally charged video, extolling the virtues of their fans.

‘Our city. Our people. Our team’ was the slogan. It referred to the fans as the ‘heartbeat’ of the club. The final frame was a collage of pictures, half of whom were current players and half were fans, the clear message being that those in the stands were equal to those on the pitch.

The clip also featured a banner, hung over one of the tiers of the Etihad, which read “We’ve seen things they’ll never see”, lyrics from the Oasis song “Live Forever”.

We mention this, because one of the official reasons that City put forward recently for removing a banner hanging from the second tier that read “Record profits but record prices — stop exploiting our loyalty”, before their game against Arsenal, was that they had a policy of not hanging banners from the upper tiers of the Etihad during matches.

There was then a dispute for the following home game against Aston Villa, when 1894, the group responsible for that banner, claimed they were prevented from doing their planned displays, while City insisted this was not the case. The club claim 1894 didn’t apply for the requisite accreditation to enter the stadium early to set up the display; 1894 say they notified the club weeks in advance of their plans. Whatever the truth, it is clear that relations are tetchier than ever.

The situation isn’t especially dignified, and there is nuance to it, but it’s one case of how football clubs — not just Manchester City — are happy to make a virtue of their fans when it suits them, but marginalise them when it doesn’t.

There are plenty of examples elsewhere. Crystal Palace’s Holmesdale Fanatics (HF), the group responsible for much of the noise and the displays at Selhurst Park, seem to be in constant conflict with the club. In November, the HF boycotted the first half of a match against Everton in protest at various issues, including the banning of particular materials from being used in displays and the removal of a platform constructed from scaffolding poles for safety reasons.

The current issue is over a banner that the group have displayed across the bottom of the top tier of the Holmesdale End at Selhurst Park for some years, which reads simply ‘Holmesdale Fanatics’. The issue now is that while in the past this was merely covering a static advertising board, this season the club have installed an LED board that displays rolling adverts and other graphics, and so removed the banner.

For the home game against Luton recently, the HF protested by not putting on their usual display of flags and so forth, which typically form a big part of the atmosphere at Palace home games. The group told The Athletic in March that it was a “hugely detrimental” move by the club, accusing them of choosing “gambling sites and cryptocurrency firms over their supporters”.

In response, a club spokesperson said that the LED board “helps greatly with the spectacle and also drives revenue for the club”, and that alternative locations for the HF banner “such as placing it below the roof of the Holmesdale, have not been deemed acceptable”.

There was a curious situation a few years ago at Tottenham, where a long-displayed “Spurs Cyprus” flag was briefly banned from the stadium on the basis that it was a ‘political’ symbol, but the decision was reversed after significant backlash. Earlier this season, the Chelsea Israeli supporters’ club’s banner was replaced, by the club, with one that didn’t include a Star of David, a move the group described as “antisemitic”.

There have been similar cases elsewhere, even in the still relatively young fan culture of MLS. Before 2019, MLS fans were not allowed to display banners with the Iron Front, an anti-Nazi symbol, something that was changed in part thanks to a protest by Portland Timbers and Seattle Sounders fans.

If nothing else, the value of fan displays and banners is shown in how they are used as tools of protest. Like the Holmesdale Fanatics, the Liverpool fan groups Spirit of Shankly and Spion Kop 1906 withdrew the banners and flags that are usually so prominent at Anfield from the Europa League game against Atalanta, in protest against another rise in ticket prices and the club’s apparent failure to consult meaningfully with the fans about those rises.

“We are disappointed in the football club’s decision towards ticket prices for 24/25,” said a Spion Kop 1906 statement. “In response, there will be no flags on The Kop for Thursday night’s game. Unlike the club’s own approach, this has been agreed in consultation with other fan groups.”

Even in Germany, where many English fans cast an envious eye because for the most part fan protests are not stymied and they do actually affect change, there is a line.

In 2020, a game was effectively halted because Bayern Munich fans held up a banner insulting/protesting against Dietmar Hopp, the Hoffenheim owner and benefactor whose money had taken the team into the Bundesliga and was a rare exception to the ’50+1′ rule. In this case, it wasn’t so much the point they were making that was deemed beyond the pale, more the way they made it: the banner called Hopp “du hurensohn”, which means “son of a whor*”.

You can make arguments either way on whether all of these cases are justifiable acts of caution or pointless acts of censorship, but they illustrate how the conflict between what might be described as ‘authentic’ fan culture, and the corporate nature, or hard reality, of modern football is inevitable.

One comment that came up frequently from speaking to some of the fan groups that put on displays of this kind, is that they often feel like they are being used as free marketing for the clubs. Part of English football’s appeal is the atmosphere at the grounds — something that was emphasised in its most extreme form when games took place behind closed doors during the Covid-19 pandemic. Even on TV, nobody wants to watch football without fans present.

Thus, vibrant crowds present the image of a vibrant and attractive game. Clubs will use banners and displays and tifos on their social media feeds, making the stadium look like an exciting place to be: ‘Wouldn’t it be brilliant to be in the middle of all this next time: step right up!’

Sometimes it’s even more direct than that: as in the City example, clubs will routinely use pictures and footage in their marketing material when it comes to season ticket renewal time, a direct invitation for you to give them your money, so you can see why those fans get irritated.

It’s not as if the fan groups that put these displays together are looking for any financial recompense or any special treatment, but it is a source of irritation and there is a sense among some (although not all) groups that they are being taken advantage of.

Clubs have fan liaison officers who will work with supporters groups on many different things, but in-stadium displays are a big part of that. Clubs technically have ‘censorship’ rights over what is displayed on officially approved banners, which means that anything that is critical of the club or its actions won’t be allowed. There is a loose justification for this, in that they want to foster positivity in the stadium, to create as good an atmosphere as they can to support the team.

This is not an unreasonable goal, but the logic is flawed: for a start, it carries with it an implication that fans should toe the line, essentially be an extension of the club’s PR and as such should be ‘on message’. Also, the idea that the atmosphere and by extension the team would be so adversely affected by the odd protest banner seems fanciful, at best.

Admittedly, sometimes fans may take things a bit far: a few years ago, a supporters group for a Premier League club proposed to their fan liaison officer that they bring in a banner depicting a skinhead holding the decapitated head of a rival in their hands. That one was nixed pretty quickly by the club in question, and even considering the arguments about free speech and authenticity, you can understand why.

That said, the relationships between clubs and these groups can fluctuate wildly, depending on the state of play on the pitch, the general mood around the club and often simply on whoever from the club is dealing with the fans. At some, it can be like conducting international diplomacy with unstable states, emotions and tempers on hair triggers. Relations have crumbled at more than one club over something as ostensibly petty as the access to storage facilities for the flags and banners between games.

Football clubs are many different businesses rolled into one: they are sports clubs but also hospitality companies, charities, community organisations, events spaces, among others, and you can include public relations agencies in that too.

Their priority is to project the most positive image of themselves possible and that doesn’t include being visibly criticised or contradicted by their own fans. This carries with it an implication that fans should remain ‘on side’ — or, perhaps slightly more accurately, you can say or do what you like and express your fandom freely whether it’s positive or negative, as long as you don’t do it in the seat you’ve paid £60 for.

Arguably the most galling aspect of all this is not just how these disputes usually revolve around money, but the insignificant amounts of money involved.

Palace cited the Holmesdale Fanatics banner as being a problem because it interfered with a “revenue stream”; City and Liverpool’s protests were about ticket price rises. Even if you can get past the idea that nothing is more important than making money, the amounts involved are minor: is it really worth Palace annoying their most vocal fans for the sake of a few advertising boards? City’s ticket price increase would be worth around 0.25 per cent of the club’s total annual revenue.

There’s also the guilt-trip element: the underlying message or implication often seems to be, “We want to be able to afford those nice new players, but if you’d rather have your banners…”

The point is that clubs trade on the authenticity of their fans and their fan culture but, in some cases, forbid authenticity when it is expressed in a way that is either critical of them, is negative in some other way or harms their commercial interests.

The relationship between football and fans is one-way in so many aspects — ticket prices, kick-off times, replica shirts, moral questionability of commercial relationships, the number of subscription services that we are asked to sign up for just to watch games on TV — that you would think clubs would at least allow us to display our dissatisfaction without too much censure.

(Top photos: Getty Images/Sam Lee)