Rude. Crude. But just part of the game.
If you’ve ever attended a sporting event at any level you’ll be aware that the terraces are no place for the easily offended. Sport brings out the worst in us all, turning the mild-mannered into the manic, the taciturn into the temporarily deranged, and the kindest, most gentle souls into horrendous, foul-mouthed yobs. Yet because it’s all in the name of passion, it’s easily forgiven – even if it does mean your six-year-old spends the journey home asking what a c*** is.
But sometimes it’s not enough to just bellow your support, sometimes those out on the pitch need a bit more than “come on lads, for f**** sake!”. To this end we create songs in their honour, witty little ditties designed to show our appreciation and spur them on to greater heights. Strangely, for a country so steeped in musical folklore, this phenomenon has never taken off in the GAA. And the rugby lot are far too refined to sing anything other than maudlin odes from bygone times.
No, if you want to hear decent terrace chants you must go to a football game, and preferably one in England. While the atmosphere has been dampened by all-seater stadia, corporate boxes and extortionate prices, there are still occasions when the few remaining vocal supporters can come up with something worth hearing. And the supporters of Manchester United are among the most inventive when it comes to original terrace anthems. Their latest number, however, falls foul on several fronts.
Dedicated to new number nine, Romelu Lukaku, the song champions the Belgian’s goal-scoring feats, even going as far as to label him a genius despite only joining the club a couple of months ago. But such hyperbole is common in the world of football chants; no one believes that there is only one David Beckham, or that Lincoln City are by far the greatest team the world has ever seen. Rather less common however, are songs which speculate on the size of a player’s penis.
I won’t lower the tone of this esteemed publication by printing the words here, but if the Manchester United supporters are to be believed, Mr Lukaku was somewhere near the front of the queue when God was handing out willies. This assumption partly stems from Lukaku’s physical bulk – he is 6 ft 3 in and built like the proverbial – but primarily from his ethnicity: black. That most of the men singing this tune are Caucasian merely adds to the weirdness. Because that’s what this song is. Weird. It’s not offensive. In fact, the only thing offensive about it is how juvenile it is, how completely lacking it is in wit or quickness of thought.
You could argue that, as a white man, I can have no understanding of what it’s like to have a racial stereotype reinforced in front of thousands of people every weekend. But I can tell you now, that any man, regardless of colour, wouldn’t complain if a chant mythologising the size of his appendage was regularly aired at football grounds all over the country. Maybe that’s penis envy on my part, maybe I’m just as bad as the cuckolds who authored this anthem, but I fail to see how Lukaku, or indeed any black man, could be offended by it.
Lukaku, clearly instructed by the club, sent out a carefully worded tweet, asking that the fans sing about something else, his lovely eyes perhaps. But there was a sense of ‘Down with this sort of thing’ about it all; I sincerely doubt he’s bothered. The FA are though, and, after United’s fans continued to sing the song at Southampton last weekend, it announced its intentions to identify the culprits via CCTV. Upon doing so, we can only surmise that those found guilty will receive banning orders or be ordered to sing Ring a Ring o’ Rosie for the entirety of United’s game with Liverpool next month.
Really, the issue isn’t with this song – it’s a rubbish tune and will fade to obscurity before long. A far greater problem is the continued gentrification of Premier League football, efforts which have seen normal, working-class fans pushed to one side in favour of consumers, people who would struggle to identity Romelu Lukaku even if his tallywacker was down by his toes. They’re the only type of supporters likely to find offence with this song. But because their pockets are the deepest their concerns will be addressed as a matter of priority.
