Boo. Who?

Boo

verb; gerund or present participle: booing

- say ‘boo’ to show disapproval of a speaker or performer.

Booing has long been a part of football-fan culture.

The club’s fierce rivals or pantomime villains – in the form of an ex-player or the referee – are often the main recipients. VAR has become another target for the boo boys (and girls) because it’s impacting their enjoyment of the game.

But this season, a team being booed of the field - be it at the half-time or final whistle - is much more common. This instant fan feedback used to be delivered in extreme circumstances, such as after a long winless run or losing games the fans deem unacceptable (to a team from a lower league in the cup, for example).

That’s changing. Being level at half-time at home to Burnley is now deemed completely unacceptable, and at some clubs, fans are booing their team off for far less than even that.

Booing actually derives from our cave-dwelling days and is embedded in human DNA. It’s a deep, guttural roar that sounds like a hunting animal. Throw in a tribe that we want to fit into and…well you can see where this is going.

Three hundred thousand years on, it has long been a part of the performing arts. The pantomime itself was designed as a place where boos naturally manifest, but many other arts – opera in particular – are places where public booing is not only accepted, but in some cases, felt to be merited.

It certainly feels – and sounds - like there’s increased booing in the Premier League, if watching a live game or MOTD is anything to go by. This might just be the positioning of pitch-side mics, or some equally plausible rationale, but it might also be because fans feel more short-changed than ever before.

Tickets for the recent midweek game at Spurs (v Newcastle) were being sold for over one hundred pounds. If we paid over £100 to watch a play, or a concert, and it was utter crap, we'd surely feel entitled to boo at the end at the apparent misuse of our hard-earned money wouldn’t we? We’re telling the performer that what we’re seeing isn’t good enough. So why would that not apply to our football club?

But it’s surely slightly more nuanced than that. A performer on a stage gets the message that they need to up their game, and while a player on the pitch probably gets the same signals, I’m not sure it has the same impact. A play/concert/opera viewer is attending once or twice, whereas the relationship between a player or manager and the fans goes much deeper and therefore any breakdown lasts a lot longer too.

For precisely that reason, I’ve never actually booed my team off  (although I think 98% of fans will say that others do it, but not them). I just can't see how it helps the players and the  bond is – after being booed – slightly broken in my opinion. Call me old fashioned, but I’ve always felt that a supporter of a club should provide support through thick and thin. I look beyond the moment, but maybe that also comes from a pragmatic realisation that being a football fan is usually made up of disappointment ninety-five percent of the time.

Good Enough

He may have both aimed and delivered it badly, but Oliver Glasner’s ‘stay humble’ response to recent boos by Crystal Palace fans did resonate on some levels. It was only last season that was the club’s ‘best ever’ and this year they are one of the favourites to win a European trophy, so he’s suggesting that memories can be incredibly short and, as fans, we forget how mediocre our clubs have been once we get a little taste of success. Of course, as Glasner has also expressed his intention to quit at the end of the season, he’s opened himself up to extra dissatisfaction, but it also shows how rapidly things change.

Anfield has also had more boos this season. The Reds, traditionally, are a club where the fans stand by their man and that’s why the booing heard during and after recent results against perceived weaker teams have stood out. Arne Slot won the Premier League title in his first season, but even that hasn’t protected him from fan fury when they fail to win (or even lead) a game by half-time. Maybe that is partly down to style of play, after Jurgen Klopp’s rock-and-roll approach, but it still feels harsh on Slot.

As well as those two, the boos – alongside the now obligatory ‘sacked in the morning’ chants – have arguably been at their loudest at the aforementioned Tottenham Hotspur Stadium.

When Thomas Frank’s calamitous reign finally came to an end with another insipid defeat in that Newcastle United (another team who’s fans booed when they lost at home to Brentford a few days earlier) game, it wasn’t clear if the booing was aimed at him or the people running the club, given it was the same before Frank became the manager.

But then I’d wager that very few Premier League clubs haven’t been booed off at some stage this season.

Brentford are probably one. Sunderland another – for obvious reasons - and possibly Bournemouth, while Fulham might be in a grey area, but everyone else has experienced it at least once, including a few isolated grumbles from Arsenal fans despite being clear at the top.

Burnley were booed off after defeat to West Ham, then bounced back to win at Palace, who were then booed off themselves. The Hammers might have turned a corner recently, but the atmosphere at the London Stadium was utterly toxic not that long ago. And so on.

Another team who heard lots of boos were Nottingham Forest. Despite a performance that saw them rack up a record 35 shots without scoring and being ninth in the form table (Sean Dyche had mustered 22 points and a Manager of the Month nomination for January), the booing at the end of the goalless draw with Wolves seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Dyche was literally ‘sacked in the morning.’

‘Are you not entertained?’

Had the boos alone been enough to persuade the owner that change was needed? As Vitor Pereira became their fourth manager already this season, the Forest fans might conclude that they only need to show their discord vocally to force a managerial change. The audible reaction of the audience determines whether it’s a thumbs up or a thumbs down.

But this increase can’t just be down to the fans. The product and perceived quality of it is key too. The more clubs treat fans as Sainsbury’s might a customer, and fail to value them or even acknowledge their worth, the more risk they run of falling foul of more discontent.

Booing is the verbal incarnation of a complaint email, or one star review, that a customer might provide. It's the fan’s way of saying 'I'm not impressed' and price also plays a significant part.

While fans at all clubs at all levels boo their team, and have every right to, the Premier League is in the sweet spot of having an incredibly high price point, more ‘tourist’ fan-types in attendance and the biggest imbalance between expectations and reality.

So if the product quality is unacceptably low and the price unfeasibly high, only winning can placate the masses. And if their team lose – or draw - there’s only one thing left to do.

Let out a deep, guttural roar from within.

But while it’ll be heard, it probably won’t do anyone a great deal of good.