Why I Am Proud To Be a Lower League Fan

Like any outsider looking in, it is hard not to be more than a little envious of the Premiership.

The wealth, the glamour, the constant adoration—it all looks like a rather enjoyable party, one you would not want to miss. As a fan of a lowly Championship side, however, it is exactly that nightmare I have had to face most of my life.

As a result, it was perhaps inevitable that my jealousy would spill over to the many fans of clubs in England’s top league. After all, they get to see the team on TV every week, hear about the latest club news every hour of every day, and enjoy the anticipation of that next big-money signing until their heart’s content.

I, on the other hand, have to trawl the web in search of a story about my team, do a jig of delight when their name makes it into the paper, and think £20 000 is big money for any player (which, to be fair, it is in this current financial climate).

What makes it worse, almost painfully so, is that I have savoured the Premiership experience on more than one occasion. I am familiar with that sweet taste of success, I have lived and breathed it.

But if a Crystal Palace fan knows anything, it is that the good times never last.

For, as fleeting as that moment in the spotlight lasts, it really is enjoyable. The constant attention, the high-profile signings (Nicola Ventola? Unbelievable!), and undeserved put-downs from Alan Hansen all make for an exciting year.

The inevitable relegation, however, does manage to put a real downer on things. You feel like a recently eliminated X Factor contestant—what is there to live for now?

Championship sides seemingly have very little going for them—the rest of the world only care about them when the Playoff final rolls around, after all.

The adage about a trip to The Valley not being quite the same as a visit to Villa Park is—like all over-used clichés—based on more than a little truth. And, perhaps most damningly, the majority of games still kick-off at 3pm on a Saturday.

I mean, what self-respecting team does that anymore?!

I still loved it though, don’t get me wrong. I embraced the atmosphere, I saw its own unique charms. I thought the Championship was where the real work was done, where good honest professionals went out and gave it all for their club.

Let the big boys have the glamour and wealth—we had real football.

However, after the unfortunate events of the summer, where Tottenham ruthlessly stole the prodigiously talented John Bostock away from us, I really began to reconsider my beliefs.

After investing a fortune in our much-vaunted youth system, Premiership clubs were now coming in and taking our greatest prospects—for a fraction of their potential wealth.
It didn’t seem fair.

I had followed Bostock’s career since he was 13, felt the anticipating build as he neared the first-team. And just as he began to reach that milestone, he packed his bags and headed across to the supposedly greener pastures of North London.

Now he sits in Spurs’ “development” squad, years away from unleashing his formidable talent on the Premiership. And, worst of all, most Spurs fans won’t even give him a moment’s thought until he does.

Maybe that is the real difference between the fans of the Premiership, and everyone else. For the Chelsea fans, the West Ham fans, the Portsmouth fans—it is all too often about the here and now. Who should be dropped next week? Who should be bought to improve this season’s fortunes? Who is to blame for the current problems?

If a youth-teamer is released, no one bats an eyelid. If a successful former player returns to the club, he is routinely booed. Now is all that matters.

For Palace fans, it is the complete opposite. A former player is never forgotten. We salute our big name players as they head on to bigger and better things (I remember crying myself to sleep when Gareth Southgate missed that penalty in Euro ’96, and still follow his managerial work at Middlesbrough) but we also remember those players that never made it to the top level.

Mention the name Teerathep Winothai to any Palace fans—odds are they will remember him. He never played a game for the club.

In the lower leagues, this is the subtly different dynamic. The present is important—but equally so is the future. Current on-the-pitch troubles will always be the primary concern, but fans are constantly looking further down the road. Most fans know all about the young players coming through, and take comfort in their development.

For a Premiership fan, everything is so immediate, so throwaway. It is not necessarily their fault—after all, much of it is encouraged by the constant inundation of news updates and analysis. When the Eagles were soaring in the Premiership, I fell under the same spell.

But the fact remains, for any stable Premiership club, one week’s problems are next week’s chip paper. A Saturday defeat is mourned for the rest of the weekend—and maybe Monday as well—before being boxed up and thrown away, wiping the slate clean in time for that crunch midweek game.

In the age of Sky, every Sunday is a Super Sunday.

In the lower leagues, however, support is one long, constantly evolving battle. While the results are far from inconsequential, they are taken with far less emotion than those watching their sides on Match of the Day. Whatever happens on the pitch, there are always positives and negatives to be talked over in the pub afterwards.

Just as it is a different type of football, it’s a different type of supporting. Lower league fans are all about the journey, as much as the destination. After all, there are no guarantees it will ever be reached.

For many Premiership teams, however, they are already at their destination. As a result, the emotions are more immediate, the highs and lows more instant. Inevitably, the approach is more short-term.

This is what I was jealous of—the instant pay-off. It was like they were watching a blockbuster film every week, while I was continuing to plod through my never-ending soap story.

And yes, on the outside that does appear to be the case. I don’t think lower-league fans live week-to-week, or even month-to-month, but year-to-year. The moments of real drama are fairly infrequent.

But this is not necessarily a bad thing. The years of mediocrity, disappointment, and adversity only serve to make those moments more dramatic, more meaningful.

I will never forget weeping like a baby during Palace’s relegation-defining match against Stockport County in 2001, and the unmitigated relief I felt when Dougie Freedman scored in injury time to keep us up.

But that moment caries so much more poignancy when I remember all that surrounded that season—indeed everything that had occurred since our relegation from the Premiership in 1998. That moment at Edgeley Park was the culmination of three years of trials and tribulations.

So, I’ll continue to savour the journey, and worry about the destination if and when we get there. I’ll enjoy those blockbuster moments when they come—Playoff drama, the big cupsets against Premiership opposition—but now I don’t lose sight of the bigger picture.

I’m no longer jealous of those enjoying the Premiership lifestyle, I simply appreciate the experience I am given. I’ll live for those little moments—like when home-grown Victor Moses scored that goal against Watford.

Not necessarily in the same league as seeing your team beat Man Utd on Sunday afternoon—but it will do for me.

To many it might appear to be less fun—but who said supporting a football team should be about having fun?