Sport

English soccer is in a tizz of self-recrimination. Not before time. This new autumn season has seen attendances drop alarmingly in the Premiership. Goals have dried up and so, correspondingly, has the excitement. Two–nil is now a goal glut. The mercenary players are overpaid, over-praised and over here, and the fans, we are told, are fed up with them for, you might say, taking the money and not running. Those die-hard supporters themselves are now generally considered by much of the country as way out of the loop, not just touching weekend hobby-obsessives in striped scarves any more, but simply mad, sad nutters being taken for a ride while ashen-faced supremos of their squads debate whether entertainment and enjoyment, fun and laughter, are anything to do with them at all. For sure, however, they know that one–nil equals three points and their own wallets are full to bursting.