The atmosphere must have been unbearable for anyone who would not follow the herd toward knee-jerk fanaticism that has somehow earned its place in football supporting circles as an example of intense loyalty - this thing they call passion. As I watched it (on my television if that makes the difference) I was bitterly disappointed but the vitriolic reaction of "hardcore" fans was despicable. He is right and it was utter idiocy from Adebayor but it was also pitiful. "That would have shown real class and that to be honest is what most players choose to do when they score against their old clubs." What need, what drive was in the Arsenal fans who burst blood vessels screaming at Adebayor? Thierry Henry has said "No matter what Adebayor's emotions were, he could have earned himself a lot of respect by not celebrating the goal. It is the lingering remains of hooliganism and a sad indictment on our collective nature. This faux-passion taints the pure emotion that we feel come win or loss. It isn't, and she would have me out in the cold. If it was passion then my girlfriend would feel flattered if i was to search out her ex-boyfriends to scream obscenities at them. Is it the man who feels the need to swear blind at an old man who asks him to sit down at a game because he cannot jump up and down every time the ball gets near the 18-yard box? No. Is it the fan who took a clout from Bellamy? Is it the obscene terrace chanting which pretends to be humour and has a total disregard for younger and more sensitive fans? Passion in football is a cliche but what does it really mean? Is it the passion demonstrated by the impotent fury of Arsenal fans towards Adebayor during his celebration last week? However, this article is not purely a reflection on the inspirational elements of the game we love but also a reflection on the divisiveness and strain that the nastier elements of our football culture can allow to develop within our community. So many threads ran through this one match that you could write a book on them: the mini-sagas of the Tevez affair, Hughes' mind-games and Gary Neville's attempted-taunt-cum-warm-up as the net rippled in the 96th minute to name only a few. Michael Owen, whose promising career took such a disappointing downward-turn after leaving Liverpool, is rescued from the Championship by their arch-rivals and scores the seventh goal in the number seven shirt (vacated by a hero who spurned them) to clinch the derby at the death. Bleeding out of the high drama on the pitch were all the back stories and plot devices that raised the temperature through the roof.
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