Bear with me. This might end up a pointless, self-indulgent, rambling mess of unconnected thoughts, so forgive me.
I’m a gnarly old Scot. We don’t do emotion. The only things we get excited about are drinking and football! I can honestly say that I love football; I’ve been involved in the game for nearly 50 years now, as a player, a coach, an administrator, a referee and nowadays as a referee assessor. It’s been a huge part of my life and still is.
When I moved to Wellington from the UK in 1999, I never dreamt I’d end up supporting a professional football team. But I did. We moved to Auckland just as the Phoenix journey began, but I managed to fly down for games regularly in those first couple of years and as often as I could since. The Nix have given me joy and they’ve given me heartbreak. They’ve let me catch up with old friends and make new ones. They’ve caused me terrible hangovers and they’ve given me some amazing experiences. Paul Ifill’s goal in the play-off game against the Jets was as supreme a moment as I’ve ever experienced at a football ground anywhere, the journey from the ROF to Four KIngs on the ‘Fever bus’ after a last game of the season against Adelaide, with “Yellow Army” belted out at full volume for almost the entire journey. Great memories. That’s what football does. It stirs emotions, it creates memories.
The club I’ve supported all my life, Partick Thistle, almost died in 1998. Fans raised money to bail us out of the massive debt we were in and kept us alive. Supporters of other clubs held collections at their own games and donated the money raised to keep us alive. That’s what football is about, behind all the rivalry and banter. The majority of football supporters are the same. They share a love for the game and they are passionate about their clubs. No real football supporter takes any pleasure in the potential demise of another club.
Despite the fact that the game is now run by men in suits, for me it’s not about money, it’s about people. It’s about community. It’s about the look on my son’s face when I took him to his first Phoenix game. That’s what the FFA are destroying. They’re not just killing a football club, they’re not just causing job losses and filling their pockets. They’re killing dreams and they’re ripping the heart from the chest of every person who has become a part of the Wellington Phoenix community. Football is about emotion, and this decision has stirred that emotion in football supporters, not only of the Wellington Phoenix, but all over New Zealand and Australia. This decision is not only soul destroying, but also baffling to me on many levels
The men in suits at the FFA won’t read this, I doubt they’d care even if they did read it, but I’ll remember Monday, October 26th 2015 for a very long time. Probably for ever. I’ll remember that, at around 6.50pm that night, I told my football mad 7 year old son, Euan, that the Phoenix probably wouldn’t exist after the current season ended. I’ll remember how he looked at me with his eyes filled with his tears as he asked me why. I’ll remember that I had to tell him that some people didn’t want the Nix in the A League any more, and I’ll remember how I was holding back my own tears as I had to try and explain a decision which I don’t understand myself. Ultimately, that will be the legacy of the FFA, as far as I’m concerned. They made my son cry and, no matter what happens now or in the future, I will never forget or forgive that.