Issue 5 - October 1998

The Temple of Doom?

On August 22nd, Reading Football Club began a whole new era. The first game at the Madejski Stadium saw the dear old Biscuitmen dragged into the 20th Century - the Whiff, of course, was there.

Football is the new religion - so it says in every glossy men's magazine on the newsagent's shelves, so it must be so. Along with the coming of Viagra (or should that be the coming after Viagra), football is the latter twentieth century's answer to theism, with Sky TV playing the role of the Almighty. The parallels are stark: the place of worship, the rituals, the ridiculous clothing, the faithful following abandoning any pretence at rationality.

Temple

For the followers of Reading FC, the last couple of months has seen extraordinary change in their particular sect as the old, run-down temple has been replaced by a magnificent new edifice, which seems to be both awe-inspiring and yet gaudy, tainted by the stain of rampant commercialism. The change of temple requires change to the matchday rituals, the most sacred of the supporter's liturgies.

Side

On August 22nd, 1998, Royals' followers had to invent an entirely new set of practices, to be honed over the years so that they become as familiar as the old ones: leaving the car in that little side road just off the Tilehurst Road, the swift pint in the Rendezvous at 2:30pm, the pre-match grot burger and the post-match misery. Only the last two can be transported to the new temple, although the last seems to have a acquired a particularly new sense of bitterness, as though Elm Park feels betrayed and has decided to haunt us in our new home.

Piss

The faithful may find it hard to adapt to this change. Parking in Safeway's, a two mile hike, and a pint of piss in a concrete tunnel just don't seem to do justice the sacredness of the ritual. Indeed, until the appalling traffic problem is resolved, most will probably develop a surrogate set of practices, concentrating on getting too and from the stadium with the minimum amount of fuss. Indeed, at the moment, the whole ritual has been extended as hordes arrive up to three hours before the game. On the 22nd itself, a steady stream came up Acre Road and huge queues quickly developed as worshippers sought to entrance to the new temple. The mood seemed subdued and certainly not ebullient - maybe the early nervous early season results had dampened some of the fervour. Of course, many of these "hordes" would soon leak away once the novelty of the first game had gone.

Bollocks

Novelty itself can generally be regarded as a good thing - a change often bringing a fresh approach to a stale rite. For the faithful, however, all it brings is dislocation, a sense of not belonging. How many felt the early games at the Madejski were more like away games? The experience is not yet a wholly satisfying one as there is no comforting set of practices to offset the traffic and ticketing problems. Familiarity, for the new religion, obviously breeds content.

Cramp

The stadium itself is a glorious monument to late twentieth century capitalism. The old, cramped Victorian grounds are slowly but surely being replaced in spectacular fashion as television money (or, at least, the promise of it) promotes spending on an unprecedented scale.

Pipes

The faithful are being encouraged to worship in comfort, entertained by music and other non-religious spectacles - it seems that simple observance of the creed is no longer enough. The only visible signs of the previous wasteland, the silver pipes decorating the car park and stadium surrounds, are testament to a fantastic engineering achievement, almost miraculous - turning stagnant water into blue and white wine.

Arse

The game? Well, Reading won 3-0 but then you knew that anyway.