Fans ain't what they used to be. So said Sir Alex Ferguson after Manchester United's routine win over Birmingham City on New Year's Day. "The crowd were dead," he grumbled. "It was like a funeral out there."
Some United followers have been quick to point out that at Old Trafford standing and shouting is likely to get a spectator thrown out by stewards. While only three people at United's last three home matches have been removed for standing, that the risks exist must restrain the ebullience somewhat.
Yet this cannot be the sole reason for a muted atmosphere. Maybe Ferguson's United have been so successful for so long that their fans assume that in run...#8209;of-the-mill fixtures their team will perform without the need for massed vocal encouragement. So they wait to cheer the deeds of Cristiano Ronaldo et al rather than willing them on. On Tuesday it would have been widely assumed that United would beat Brum, the only question was by how much.
Modern all-seater stadiums have been blamed for a general loss of atmosphere, particularly at the bigger grounds where the rawer passions have been priced out. But Anfield had a similar experience when Liverpool were winning leagues and cups regularly in the early 80s before Hillsborough, the Taylor report and a revolution in spectator safety and comfort. Teams who keep winning can silence crowds almost as much as those who keep losing. And at least poor, hapless Derby enjoy generous support at Pride Park where the winning of a favourable throw-in will be greeted ecstatically.
One answer may lie in the way spectators now approach matches. When the bulk of support lay on the terraces fans had to arrive early to be sure of a decent view, sometimes to be sure of getting in at all. This ensured a steady build-up of emotion that was released in a mighty shout when the teams took the field. Now a stadium will be two-thirds empty less than half-an-hour before kick-off because the supporters, their seats secured, are having a pre-match bite before finding their way to the stands. The tension is not there to start with and the fans have to be wound up by the game itself.
Some grounds still produce a decent decibel level by habit and Newcastle and Sunderland continue to make more noise than most, but even in these hotbeds of football passion the atmosphere is not what it was. Jackie Milburn and Malcolm Macdonald could bring the house down at Newcastle but Alan Shearer merely rattled the chimneys. And when Sunderland moved to the Stadium of Light they left their roar at Roker.
Crowds do not roar any more. They get fairly worked up in places such as Naples, Marseille and Istanbul but in England the sedentary spectators are relatively sedate, ready to shout rude things at the referee and the opposition but less likely to bellow continuous support for their own team.
Millwall's New Den still has its livelier moments but will never match the passions of the original Den down Cold Blow Lane. In the 60s Harry Cripps only had to warm up along the touchline to set the place in a frenzy. In the 50s Brighton put a note in the programme asking fans not to shout too loudly because nearby residents had complained. The Goldstone Ground was a dump but it was a dump with passion.
Perhaps the saddest loss to the eardrums is the Hampden Roar, long since stifled by seating and a reduction in capacity. "Those of you who have never heard the Roar cannot appreciate the effect it has on a player," wrote Stanley Matthews of his first experience there playing for England against Scotland in 1937 in front of a crowd of nearly 150,000. "As the match progressed so did the Roar become more terrible for us. It shook our confidence and left our legs a little uncertain." England scored first but "as the Roar grew in volume so did Scotland seem to get a stronger grip on the game. I knew within myself we could not now win." England lost 3-1.
Supporters of the leading teams can still be relied on to give the home side decent backing in big games, such as when the elite are playing each other or on important Champions League nights. When Tottenham's 1961 Double...#8209;winning team played in the European Cup they lost an away leg 4-2 to a little-known Polish side, Gornik Zabrze. A crowd of 60,000 packed White Hart Lane for the return and so fierce was their support that Gornik became intimidated and in spite of taking the lead eventually lost 8-1.
Later the conflicting passions turned to hooliganism and the families stayed away. They are back now but the old raucous sounds of football have gone forever. Fans may still sing "it's all gone quiet over there" but in reality it's all gone quiet over here, too.
