The role of sports fans is rarely underrated, least of all by the players at the centre of their attention. As an Oscar winner’s speech methodically praises their director, their family, and, last but inevitably not least their adoring supporters, so too post-match interviews are littered with praise for managers, team mates and above all the thousands of faces that fill the stands, roaring along with their heroes’ triumphs and sharing in their heartache. Indeed, their role should not be underrated by anyone; the enthusiasm of a crowd can make the difference between glorious victory and dismal defeat. However, with this influence a new question arises; when does the behaviour of sports fans go too far?
For as the third Ashes test match finished in a draw and the post match analysis drew to a close, it was the behaviour of England’s “Barmy Army” that fell under the spotlight. According to the Guardian, “everything Ricky Ponting did was met with a chorus of boos, Mitchell Johnson was barely given a moment's peace, every Australian wicket was followed by chants of "cheerio" and England fans serenaded their visitors with regular outings of "God Save Your Queen". For many this did mark the point where crowd support had turned nasty and abusive, with former England cricketer Mike Atherton deeming the matter “ridiculous”. Despite this, others have taken the opposing view, claiming that the fans’ have brought a needed enthusiasm to the sport.
At the heart of this divide runs the ongoing dialectic between purists and a more contemporary fan base. That this has been drawn along class boundaries is little surprise. Cricket is traditionally seen as a middle class sport, with test matches carrying a strict all-white dress code, and a history in royalty and grammar school education. I remember a friend once telling me about his trip to the Oval to watch a test match; a Mexican wave was tearing around the stands, but at its arrival at the Pavillion stand, which holds the executive boxes and balconies, it stopped dead. The rest of the crowd booed, until one man stood up resulting in rapturous applause. Compare this to football, a sport identified with a traditionally working class fanbase, in which there is no division in fan etiquette, no apparent elitism on how to behave.
And it is not only cricket in which this has become a talking point. Tennis, another middle-class sport with royal origins, has seen an emergence of more vocal supporters, resulting in “Hen-mania’, ‘Murray mound’ and the thousands who flock to SW19, of all ages and backgrounds, to cheer on the players and indulge in strawberries in cream. As ticket prices dropped in the 90s, tennis began to lose its association of being an upper class folly, and today attracts fans similar to those of the Barmy Army, dressed in Union Jacks, singing and cheering after every shot.
Thus the rift is frequently presented as caused by elitists who resent the increase in younger, louder and more boisterous fans. As a result, anyone with an opinion on the debate finds themselves pushed to one side; either a “po-faced purist” according to Simon Burnet, the Guardian’s sports blog writer, or someone enthusiastic about the expansion of sport away from the priveleged and wealthy.
However, that one must be one of the two is an obvious falsity, and one that does a great disservice to sport in this country. As with most people, I suspect, I resent any attitude or set-up (e.g. ticket prices) that keeps arts, culture and entertainment from those who have less money, and believe that sport can only ever develop if it becomes universal. What this view should not lead me to accepting is that the rude and disruptive behaviour of some fans is tolerable.
For the actions of the Barmy Army, from all reports, is inexcusable. Just as fans can lift their players to great heights, so too can they leave their opponents frustrated and utterly hopeless. To continually boo, mock and taunt players creates a deeply unpleasant game, in which the away side will become distracted and angry, ultimately leaving the pitch with resentment at the fans. Of course, it might be argued that this is only part and parcel of a players’ job, that part of their skill is their mental temperament. This logic seems flawed, and can only go so far (for example to accept that lack of your own strong fan base when playing away will make things more difficult.) For in sport, all considerations are taken to make a game as fair as possible, so that the victory is decided on the player’s merits alone. To expect one side to then face an ongoing onslaught of antagonising behaviour is unfair. It is no use either pointing to the fact that the away side will have the opportunity to do the same when they are the home players, for then fan attendance will no doubt be different; circumstances will be different. Indeed, all Ashes test match will take place in England this year, meaning if Australia lose at the hands of their fans, England will have a victory stained in bad sportsmanship.
Anyone who watched Andy Murray in this year’s Wimbledon will know that these difficulties arose here, too. Constant cheering after every single point won by the British star and chants of his name, even as the opponent made to play their serve, were both unfortunate events at this year’s tournament. Of course, any opponent of a British star is never going to have it easy, and this has to be expected when going into the match. But as they become ever more frustrated and resentful of the crowd, clearly leaning to the point where they are distracted beyond hope of victory, it has to be accepted that the crowd has a responsibility too. While cheering on your own player is all well and good, fans must respect the importance the match has to their opponent too, and should not turn the match from an even contest into a crowd-induced onslaught.
For what this comes down to is fairness. Fans should be free to cheer, shout and scream on their players, urging them to victory; this is something any opponent knows and accepts. However, this can clearly be done in a way that goes from giving the home side an added advantage, to making the game hopelessly unjust. Cheering can turn into hostile booing, name chanting can go from brief interludes in the moments of inaction to badly timed cries that interrupt a player’s momentum, and friendly good will can turn into needless aggression. All of these should be condemned, and hiding behind the mask of class battles will only prevent this; ultimately, British sport will only suffer because of it.
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