It’s been a little while since the last edition of Flog but what with the spirit and joy of Christmas happening all around me everything got a little lost. Now all that is out of the way, Flog comes roaring back to you and today we are talking about DEATH.
Nat Lofthouse died over the weekend, which was sad. The only reason I know Nat’s name is from a few black and white clips showing him battering some goalkeepers over the line in what would today be considered a common assault, so I don’t think I could express the same level of grief that perhaps older Bolton supporters could justify. An English centre forward whose style is nostalgically referred to whenever a big lad like Andy Carroll rises through the ranks to become the next focal point of every English centre back’s forward pass for the next decade.
Lofthouse is a Bolton legend and has been honoured so, and the likelihood of there being a minutes silence (or applause, which I prefer immeasurably) before their next league game is obviously high. The footage of him barging a goalkeeper over the line in an FA Cup final is part of the archives and his record of 30 goals in 33 England games speaks for itself. ‘It’s really very good’ it says from the back of the cupboard, next to an old Morph video.
But what is going to happen in the future? Not to be morbid, but we are all going to die. You, me, the Queen, Vernon Kaye; we’re all on the hit list eventually. So when today’s footballers reach the end of their innings and start popping their Nike clogs, we are to expect minutes silences/applauses/break dances (could happen in the future, these crazy kids) just as we do for the old heroes? The difference, however, will be pretty massive because anyone is a hero these days. It’s a much more personal experience to watch football; the tabloid media and the gigantic, online know-it-all, bullshit machine Wikipedia playing the biggest roles in this of course.
Tottenham fans still remember Steffen Freund with much fondness partly due to his lack of goal scoring exploits but also his combative attitude and decent distribution. He was a good player, but he wasn’t Lofthouse to Bolton or Moore to West Ham. Will he get honoured? Will older generations pass the name of this cult hero on to their children? Will he get mentioned on the Spurs website, which you will be viewing on your iPhone v273?
Where do you draw the line? I expect and demand measures to be put in place: players must have played for the club in at least 100 games. They must have done at least one thing of note, this can include scoring a goal, saving a penalty or punching a linesman. They must NOT, repeat: NOT, have assaulted a child or small dog at any time in their career at the club. Simple rules like these could save thousands of hours in the future, which I choose to take in lieu right now and spend eating biscuits and playing FIFA 11.
In the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s, football became much more like what it is now, basically a religion. Superstars were born and when they die they are honoured in the right way because success was measured in trophies and medals. Presently, the lines have been blurred to the extent where success can mean simply staying in a division. I’m not denying those who are part of these teams deserve that recognition, but the greatest achievers in this sport could find themselves lost in the names.
So that’s death taken the piss out of…
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