Saturday, 2 April 2016

What's that bloody racket?

Football grounds are invariably a full sensory experience.  Even at this level.  Those of us who attend regularly tend to forget this.  The noises, smells and sights can wash ineffectually over us.  They are part of our Saturday afternoon and are as natural as breathing.

"What's that bloody racket?"
Even so, occasionally a note is struck that is so discordant that it penetrates even the hardiest, long-exposed Poppy.  You know.  That game when things aren't running as smoothly as we'd all like (i.e. we aren't battering the opposition into a staggering stupor for fully 90 minutes) when some dickhead far to close too you thinks that his vicious personal abuse of his team will help them play better.

It always amazes me that although we may have shed upwards of a thousand fans in recent years we have still managed to cling onto a handful of the most hateful f*ckwits inside or outside of a football ground.  Why do they keep coming when they so obviously hate everything to do with the club?  Beats me.  We've all silently suffered through their constant, unbelievable verbal bile.  We've all had to bite our tongues to stop ourselves telling them what we think of their senseless tirades.

But no, this isn't the "bloody racket" I've alluded to.  And be advised, if you read further, you do with my warning that I may just ruin your afternoon.....

Steve Kinniburgh has many fine qualities.  Although he seems to have put his playing career on hold he has racked up over 100 appearances for us. He captained last season's title-winning team.  Ritchie seems to have folded him into his plans to conquer China.  He is also part of Marcus's coaching staff, which is the round-about-point of this rambling article.

Whilst Marcus is known for his laid-back demeanour, Steve is the more animated and vocal member of the off-field team.  More vocal.  Far more.  His shrill extolling, encouraging and condemnations cut through all the other bubble and grumble inside Latimer Park.  Five hundred of us have no chance of drowning out Steve's powerful, high-pitched, Calendonian pipes.

Steve's shrill din is not a problem as such.  Hopefully the players benefit from his banshee's of wisdom.  However, once your ears have tuned into the frequency of his shrieking it is almost impossible to tune it out again.  It becomes all you can hear until the final whistle drowns him out for another week.  Have a listen at the next home game.  See if you can shake his voice out of your head once it's lodged there!

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