April 22, 2025

When the vibes are more rancid than a forgotten Easter egg in June

I’m a little behind schedule, due to setting a highly unrealistic schedule for myself, fully problems of my own making, but here we are. As of the day I’m writing about, the train count is sixteen, and the match count is four.

I’ve caved and used footnotes, because trying to write without footnotes feels like trying to breathe after petting a cat–possible, but very uncomfortable.

I woke up in London and had possibly the most exciting news of my trip: since I’ll be back at the same hotel in two nights, they said they’d hold my luggage for me. So I split my things up, putting what I’d need for the next two days in my day pack, and making a few gambles to make it all fit.

Gamble 1: My second hotel in Manchester would have essential toiletries, so I could leave those behind

Gamble 2: It will not rain too much on my two-day trip to Manchester, so I could just take my jacket and not my anorak

Stay tuned for future dispatches to see how I did, and whether growing up in Nevada made me a good gambler or not.

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Once I deposited my larger, heavier bag at the front desk, I crossed the street to St. Pancras Station and caught the next Thameslink north. This trip was nearly the exact reverse of my trip the day before, except we got a true coach for the bus replacement instead of a hand-me-down airport shuttle, and I continued past Stoke-on-Trent on to Manchester.

It all went smoothly until the end, where I needed to throw my bag at the front desk of my hotel and connect to the local tram system with haste to make the next match. I was seeing the women of Manchester City host Everton at the Joie Stadium. All of Man City’s stadiums are on Etihad Campus, and there are actually two tram stops, one closer to the main stadium, and Velopark, by Joie Stadium where the women normally play.

I did not have enough haste and ended up already cutting it close, made even worse when the tram service was cut short, terminating at the first stop, leaving me with what Google Maps said was a 20-minute walk…five minutes before kick off.

To help you understand my anxiety here: I once showed up five minutes before kick off to a FC Barcelona Feminí match and I have never felt more openly shamed than by the people I had to disturb to get to my seat. I will never make that mistake again and ever since, I’ve shown up at least an hour early to all football matches. Is this rational? Maybe not. Will I stop doing this? Definitely not.

Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one in the predicament, and when a Mancunian woman asked a different group if they knew where they were going, I piped up after they said yes, saying I didn’t. She walked almost as fast as me (read: very fast when unencumbered and unaccompanied) and we had a lovely chat as she showed me the shortcut to the stadium. She normally comes to the matches with her 30 year-old daughter, but the daughter was camping for the bank holiday so she was running solo this time.

She was curious why a “lad like myself” was more interested in women’s football than men’s. Frankly, I could probably write a whole book on the subject. Not knowing her politics, I chose not to mention my gender identity in my answer, just in case. Certainly growing up a girl in the US, with the 99ers like Mia Hamm, Brandi Chastain, and Briana Scurry had a big impact. Instead, I was vague with my answer, mentioning the community around it, and the accessibility.

Practically, women’s soccer has been more accessible to me over the years, given that until recently, the majority of the matches could be streamed for free, while at the same time, the men’s matches have historically required cable. Then, for a while, all the NWSL matches were on Paramount+, which was one of the cheapest streaming options at the time.

Nowadays, the NWSL is split across about twenty different services, so I have to put in a little more effort, and borrow some log-ins, if I want to catch all the NWSL matches live. That said, the WSL is still easy enough between YouTube and my family’s Disney-Overlord-Media-Bundle. Meanwhile, with many more men’s matches available to be with ESPN and Peacock, I’ve also watched a fair bit more of them recently too.

I also must acknowledge the vibes: the vibes are simply different. The energy is less hostile, and more often than not, the most emotionally fraught I get is when I want both teams in a major competition final to win, knowing that they both cannot. There are few footballers that I really Do Not Like on the women’s side, and all of them are people who are openly opposed to my rights in the media. I don’t ask a lot from footballers, politically. If you must hate my people, just don’t do it so loudly, that’s all.

Meanwhile, on the men’s side, there are many players, clubs, and national teams that I truly despise. The Netherlands national team? Either Manchester? Real Madrid?¹ Can’t stand them. I love to see them fall. The mutual failure of both Manchesters this season in the EPL has brought me so much joy.

As far as players go, I despise pretty much any superstar. I like football because it’s a team sport. I really can’t stand the way players like Ronaldo, Messi, and Haaland get held up like gods. When I was a kid, I felt the same way about Beckham and Ronaldinho. Are they mostly² all magically talented? Yes, sure. But put them on the field alone, they’re nothing. They need their team, and it drives me to distraction when all the media is about them alone. Messi never would have won the 2022 World Cup without Emi Martinez (who I hate for other reasons), but Messi gets more accolades.

I understand that these are opinions lacking nuance. I can’t help how I feel, don’t get mad at me.

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My new Mancunian friend got me safely to Joie Stadium, and I ended up in my seat only a few minutes after kickoff. It turned out, I hadn’t anything to worry about because the vibes for the match were…well, I used the word “rancid” in a message to a friend, and I don’t want to be negative in this newsletter, but it’s an accurate assessment.

See, most matches I’ve attended on this side of the Atlantic, there’s a level of focus, bordering on reverence, during a match. It’s not like sports in the US, with fifty screens and jumbotrons, constant music and “crowd activations” or the like. At least in the stands, while play is ongoing, people are there to Watch Football. That may sound odd, but let me give you three examples, other than when I got shamed at the Barça match last year:

Example 1

On a train at the beginning of my trip, I listened to a woman, Mary, traveling with her husband and two teenage sons complain that the last time she’d gone to a match with Camille, who apparently has a real slug of a boyfriend, Camille wanted to chat the whole time, and Mary missed one of the goals because she was trying to be polite and listen to Camille. Mary confirmed she’s never sitting next to Camille at a match again.

Example 2

At my first Stoke City match, a woman in the row in front of me got up and headed to the concourse about every ten minutes for the whole match, and after the first two times, the people were openly grumbling about it, getting a little louder every time.

Example 3

At the Arsenal match, there were multiple announcements and signs encouraging attendees to remain seated as much as possible, so as not to block others’ views, and to avoid multiple trips to the concourse for the same reason.

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So with that context in mind, let me tell you about this match.

I’ll begin by addressing the on-field action, and which, if I’m being generous, might explain the off-field vibes: Man City were not their usual self. I didn’t expect them to dominate, as Everton has been really good at frustrating the giants³ of the league this season. They actually beat Man City when they hosted them earlier this season, drew with Arsenal at Arsenal, and almost drew with Chelsea at Chelsea but for a last-kick-of-the-match goal by Lauren James.⁴ Also, Everton’s goalkeeper and captain, Ireland’s Courtney Brosnan, is a brick wall and it takes something special to beat her these days.

That’s a bunch of excuses for Man City, but if I’m being honest, they were just kind of bland to watch, kept trying to do the same run, which kept not working, and Kerolin wasn’t getting the kind of service she could really set on fire. Are you tired of me saying I’m not tactically-minded yet? What I mean is, I can really only speak on vibes, I don’t know why they kept trying the same thing that didn’t work, I assume they saw something I didn’t? But it was really boring to watch regardless. It’s the kind of match that, at home, I would have switched away from certainly.

Now, for the off-field vibes.

First of all, I was not the last one there. People were filtering into the stands for most of the first half. Though it was hard to tell who was just arriving and who was wandering back from the concourse, because that also happened throughout the match.

People were constantly coming and going, chatting on the stairs, chatting in front of the stands, and so on. Not to be an old fart, but there were five teens sitting in front of me, and they spent the whole match scrolling Instagram and Snapchat. It felt more like a social gathering that happened to have a football match nearby.

Even that feels generous? Maybe: it felt like a bunch of people hanging out in groups that were a little annoyed that there happened to be a football match happening.

During the early stages of the match, there was a supporters group leading some songs and cheers, but even they petered out after a while. By the second half, most chants started half-heartedly, and faded away unfinished. By the 60th minute, the only thing that might pass as cheering was people occasionally flapping these truly horrendous noise maker fans⁵, because apparently clapping is too much work.

I will give two highlights:

1. After the match, I learned that the Man City goal scorer, Dutch-national Kerstin Casparij, was wearing tape on her wrist decorated with the trans flag colors, and she held up the wristband when she scored.

2. In the second half, a man near the front of the stands said something, I could hear but couldn’t understand it, that was inappropriate, directed at a player from Everton who was maybe pretending to be injured. He was shouted down immediately from all over the stands, and the stewards reacted immediately. A little later, he was escorted out of the stadium. The abuse was far from a highlight, but the reaction was heartening given that, in the past couple of months, there have been several instances of player-abuse in the women’s game not been taken seriously by stewards and stadium security.

All of this to say, I went into this match with the following opinion: I hate Manchester City men’s side, but the women’s side is alright and has some stellar players I like.

My opinion after the match, which I left as soon as the final whistle blew, is: I hate Manchester City men’s side, but the women’s side is alright and has some stellar players I like, however I definitely don’t think their fans deserve them.

Again, I caved and opted for a taxi back to the city center because I was exhausted from all the hard work of Judging People and wanted a snack.