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Interesting article from a Middlesborough evening newspaper.
"At the end of the minute's silence before the Arsenal game a gentleman of the press who had stood solemnly with head bent in quiet reflection leant over and asked a colleague: "Who's that one for?"
The scribe had stood silently and gone through the motions without even knowing the reason for the sham reverence - and that speaks volumes about the way a once rare mark of respect at grounds has been completely devalued.
And that is not a comment on the fittingness of the Pope to be granted a tribute at a club in a town with a significant Roman Catholic population.
It is more a comment on the ephemeral ten-a-penny nature of what was once an extremely unusual event and one that was invariably 'impeccably observed'.
Now they feel almost weekly. A colleague recently clocked up three in one weekend.
Of course, in the past the minute's silence was almost exclusively reserved to mark the memory of a stalwart servant of the club: a former legendary player, long serving manager or chairman.
Back then the silence was a public expression of loss within the family and a chance for the fans to pay their respects to someone who they had a deep personal relationship with and real memories of. It was an intimate and moving private occasion and one supporters expected and welcomed.
Now, however, as a new climate of touchy-feely empathy dominates society, grounds have become just another venue for the public display of conspicuous compassion.
Public institutions are expected to take part in co-ordinated emotional responses to events outside their own universe. It is part PR, part social engineering and part fear of being branded callous.
Now fans are expected to join tributes to ever more distant figures that have nothing to do with their club and often little to do with football.
Holly and Jessica's only connection with football was the Manchester United tops they wore. Ken Bigley's footballing allegiances were unknown.
Genuine public outcry over these issues was co-opted by the game in a ham-fisted and inconsistent way that sets an awkward precedent.
For instance, if the Soham schoolgirls, why not other gruesome murder victims?
If Ken Bigley - in Iraq at his own risk earning big money - why not the dozens of British servicemen killed in action?
You can have sympathy with, be shocked about, feel a sense of loss, without being expected to display that publicly in an arena that for many is an escape from harsh reality.
There is now a great danger of an emotional inflation that is losing all grip with reality.
The usual rate is a one minute silence. Yet Ken Bigley warranted two minutes (the same as 9/11 and twice what the Pope got) and the Tsunami was worth three minutes.
Where do you go from there? What price the Queen?
Familiarity breeds contempt. Now silences are marked by defiantly unswayed supporters quietly swigging lager in the concourse or silently texting jokes to their mates... or by outright, vocal dissent.
The silence for the Pope at Hearts v Celtic was disrupted. Perhaps it was no surprise as given the sectarian politics in Scottish football it presented an easy open goal. It is a good job they weren't at Rangers or there would have been a riot.
It is time for a return to sincerity. Clubs should ensure that moments of silence are not cheapened and are reserved for those with a real connection with their fans."
"At the end of the minute's silence before the Arsenal game a gentleman of the press who had stood solemnly with head bent in quiet reflection leant over and asked a colleague: "Who's that one for?"
The scribe had stood silently and gone through the motions without even knowing the reason for the sham reverence - and that speaks volumes about the way a once rare mark of respect at grounds has been completely devalued.
And that is not a comment on the fittingness of the Pope to be granted a tribute at a club in a town with a significant Roman Catholic population.
It is more a comment on the ephemeral ten-a-penny nature of what was once an extremely unusual event and one that was invariably 'impeccably observed'.
Now they feel almost weekly. A colleague recently clocked up three in one weekend.
Of course, in the past the minute's silence was almost exclusively reserved to mark the memory of a stalwart servant of the club: a former legendary player, long serving manager or chairman.
Back then the silence was a public expression of loss within the family and a chance for the fans to pay their respects to someone who they had a deep personal relationship with and real memories of. It was an intimate and moving private occasion and one supporters expected and welcomed.
Now, however, as a new climate of touchy-feely empathy dominates society, grounds have become just another venue for the public display of conspicuous compassion.
Public institutions are expected to take part in co-ordinated emotional responses to events outside their own universe. It is part PR, part social engineering and part fear of being branded callous.
Now fans are expected to join tributes to ever more distant figures that have nothing to do with their club and often little to do with football.
Holly and Jessica's only connection with football was the Manchester United tops they wore. Ken Bigley's footballing allegiances were unknown.
Genuine public outcry over these issues was co-opted by the game in a ham-fisted and inconsistent way that sets an awkward precedent.
For instance, if the Soham schoolgirls, why not other gruesome murder victims?
If Ken Bigley - in Iraq at his own risk earning big money - why not the dozens of British servicemen killed in action?
You can have sympathy with, be shocked about, feel a sense of loss, without being expected to display that publicly in an arena that for many is an escape from harsh reality.
There is now a great danger of an emotional inflation that is losing all grip with reality.
The usual rate is a one minute silence. Yet Ken Bigley warranted two minutes (the same as 9/11 and twice what the Pope got) and the Tsunami was worth three minutes.
Where do you go from there? What price the Queen?
Familiarity breeds contempt. Now silences are marked by defiantly unswayed supporters quietly swigging lager in the concourse or silently texting jokes to their mates... or by outright, vocal dissent.
The silence for the Pope at Hearts v Celtic was disrupted. Perhaps it was no surprise as given the sectarian politics in Scottish football it presented an easy open goal. It is a good job they weren't at Rangers or there would have been a riot.
It is time for a return to sincerity. Clubs should ensure that moments of silence are not cheapened and are reserved for those with a real connection with their fans."
