Fresh air, not armchair, is one phrase banded around. Football is a highly subjective topic. The marmite of sports. Break it down further and tainted bias slaps views across faces and backs angry frustration in media, socially and professionally. Some fans can’t even agree to disagree.

A supporter, a fanatic, a loyalty customer whatever you identify as, as a footy fan, you’re bound to have a preference. Whether it’s the famous black and white of Grimsby Town or the traditional gold of Wolverhampton, football fans stick by their club. Loyalty is tribal. Some fans hide away when the going gets tough. Gates dip. Who wants to watch poor football on a weekly basis? Well, that’s where the diehards sit and stand and roar.

Manchester Utd fan Terry Christian posted the same photo of City’s trophy parade, clearly taken hours before the parade, and about a year two. He mentioned Deansgate. It’s a photo outside the Royal Exchange Theatre. The famous tramlines are a clue. To paraphrase Jim Royle, “Deansgate, my arse!” It’s okay. It’s in jest. Just someone fishing for laughs using social media as a tool. Other blinder to the obvious fans repost it. They claim it. They celebrate it. The parasitic nature of social media captures a perceived truth and turns a silly post into the next Baby Reindeer. It stalks its intended audiences and bugs a few City fans. It is what it is. We do it to them with our Poznans, our chants, and our attitude. Why shouldn’t they wind us up?

The match-going fan goes for friends, family, and feelings that sitting in a pub or at home cannot replicate. The rainbow of emotions at a game, the creeping emotion, and the waves of euphoria or disappointment keep us going. Win, lose, or draw, the fanatic donned in whatever-they-wish-to-wear goes to cheer their club on their way. Few anticipate or expect results to go their way, even if they believe a team capable “on paper.” That’s not cricket. Whether you’re a 100-year-old at Wrescam watching a win or a baby pitch-invading past stewards, football brings people together. It also tears us apart.

As Manchester Utd lifted the 2024 F.A. Cup, suddenly I found reconnection with a few old mates, who felt that day more appropriate to drop passive aggressive messages, jokes, or soft commiserations. It is what it is. City weren’t good enough. As painful as it is to lose to a bitter rival, you take it. We’ve had far worse days. Far worse. I’m more perturbed by price rises at both our club and many Premier League clubs. Tottenham Hotspur’s latest money-grab involves scrapping pensioner prices. That’s not on.

Football desperately needs to stop hiding in social media shadows, gripping well-earned cash from supporter bases that have been there for their clubs through thick-and-thin. The whole success of football lies in community. From grassroots teams like Wythenshawe A.F.C. to Girona F.C., clubs need fans. Their fans. Not just the new money and gloryseekers who latch to player or club. We need more fans like Haguey, Daz, the Oldham Groundhopper, and the West Ham lot.

For now, the posts are lifted up. Savour the past. Look forward to the season ahead. There’s always hope. You won’t catch me saying 5-in-a-row, even if it is “a dream in my heart.”

P.s. Welcome to Wrexham, season 3 is well worth a watch.