Across the pond

Author: Adam Clayton

In today's globalized world, there is seemingly nothing that can't be done cheaper, quicker or better somewhere else. Profit-maximizing companies scour the world looking for the best places to make and market their products. Apparently, sports teams are no exception. Hidden under a veneer of passion and loyalty, most decisions made by major sports teams are monetary ones. Nowadays, with fan bases reaching across the planet, the decisions made by club executives have to take into account the global demand their success has engendered. Seventy-five percent of Manchester United fans are in Asia, while any top team's Web site is usually available in three or four languages. Players sometimes get brought in more for their exotic name than for their playing ability, the illusion of such a move being a football decision often discarded altogether.

Such was the case when the Premier League proposed recently, with little consultation or fan-fare, the idea of tacking on an extra game to an already crowded schedule, one that would be played thousands of miles from either team's stadium but could nevertheless determine the outcome of an entire season. American football already broke boundaries by playing in London, and it is likely basketball and baseball will follow its lead in the near future. Chief executive of the F.A. Premier League, Richard Scudamore, claiming "[the premiership] competes in an entertainment industry," believes this move is good for the prosperity of England's domestic football clubs, as if Chelsea playing Arsenal in Beijing was akin to a Britney Spears performance.

But English football is not just entertainment, Dick. For many people it engenders a stronger sense of identity and pride than race, social status or nationality ever will. Football and politics have been intrinsically linked for centuries, causing wars and uniting populations from social unrest. Dictators such as Franco saw football as a pillar of their power, as well as a potential threat if not manipulated correctly. To denigrate football in this way is to overlook the passion and dedication seen week in and week out around the world, both from the players and the fans who invest time and money to support their team. Imagine a Newcastle fan attending every game, braving the most hostile receptions around England, only to find himself watching the culmination of his team's efforts at six in the morning, struggling to understand the Portuguese or Japanese chanting emanating around the stadium. Such a proposal would be comical if it didn't seem like an eventuality.

If Scudamore insists on taking his cues from American football, why not play rock music and create cartoonish mascots to parade around at half time? The motive of this is certainly not to give fans the opportunity to watch their idols. The premiership can't even be watched by 1.4 billion people in China because only 20,000 can afford the $100 subscription that pay-per-view TV brought about last season, so they sadly watch Italians and Germans instead. Football is already a domestic fixture in every country around the world, and it will be to the detriment of their leagues if Scudamore gets his way. If profits have to be pursued at the expense of pride and the sanctity of what's right, English football will end up just like that other model of the entertainment industry - Britney Spears - bloated and whoring itself out to whoever hasn't moved on, a shadow of its former great self.