Rob Dunford writes about the final game at Selhurst.
Goodbyes are supposed to be emotional affairs, filled with regrets and tears, sprinkled with liberal dashings of wondering what might have been and what the future holds. This however does not apply to the now officially romany entity called Franchise FC
This feeling (or lack of) was compounded on a warm and pleasant Sunday afternoon in the traditionally less than pleasant area called London SE25. Franchise FC were playing Burnley in their last ever game in London, some 114 years after it was founded.
A familiar journey through familiar roads, with familiar traffic snarl-ups, parking in familiar streets with familiar parking restrictions, with familiar walks down familiar paths to the all-too-familiar Selhurst Park still felt very strange. Looking around, nobody was instantly recognisable. True, some semi-recognisable faces were still walking around in a combination of old shirts (specially worn for the occasion, no doubt), the current GO:MK incarnation (which still suspiciously look like AFCW
throwouts) and matching scarves (this in 20c+ heat), but it was impossible to maintain eye contact with any of them. Even looking at them was a difficult enough task, they felt alien. Were they plants? Long lost Wombles, in some of the most brainwashed state of minds this side of North Korea? Bored Palace fans?
It had to be said, there were more people there for this last ever game in the Capital (about 1900), not that that was particularly difficult to achieve. However, while the bulk looked like strangers, there were some who had been to AFC Wimbledon games. Some were even sporting the legendary black “Wanted” t-shirts, with a few anti-Milton Keynes t-shirts to boot. Some wanted to move on by just watching the last game.
As kickoff got closer, it was clear what was happening : unlike the Blaydon Races, there were very few smiling faces. Instead, there were embarrassed looks, heads down to the ground, walking in very briskly – presumably so nobody could see them in case they got on camera – to take a plastic seat in a sterile empty stand watching a team representing an empty club.
It was hard to get attached to this club that was still calling itself Wimbledon FC. In the past, after the FA Commission gave the permission to move 70 miles up the M1, the average Womble felt a lethal combination of hate, anger, sorrow, betrayal and resistance. Now, there was nothing to feel – no soul to tap into. The split between Wimbledon FC and its support has been likened to a divorce, and this is true : the fans have now got the beautiful maiden with the gorgeous figure and lovely personality, while Franchise have the heroin-addled prostitute, ready to be pimped off yet again.
There was of course work to be done. About 350 envelopes containing invitations to the RPV game were handed out outside the Holmesdale. Most accepted, however there were some dissenters : “When are you going to give up?” said one man, rushing quite briskly. Another replied with a two-worded sentence, the second word being “off”. Though interestingly enough, he said this when he thought he was out of earshot. One attempted (if somewhat
misguided) reconciliation : “Good luck AFC Wimbledon guys, come back if you want to”. Though as anyone who has watched even a handful of AFC Wimbledon matches will testify, and to paraphrase a former Prime Minister, the fans are not for turning
As for Franchise? There was a feel of fly-by-night, like a travelling circus on its last night, ready to up sticks and onto the next town. The club's plight was summed up when it transpired it had no matchday mascot. In desperation, it literally had to find a youngster off the street (who just so happened to be celebrating his birthday) to lead the teams out. Is this how far Franchise had fallen? The lack of self-respect was obvious.
Indeed, it is increasingly apparent that without serious external help, Franchise will flop in Milton Keynes. There is no dynamism in the club – when Reg Davis has bought a house in Milton Keynes itself to continue with his distinctive work (no doubt to be passed off as “continuity”, or to show a club that still believes it is in touch with its roots), it is clear it will make the same mistakes, and adopt the same attitude towards how it conducts itself in Buckinghamshire. This time, there will be no protests forcing their hand. They are on their own now, and this time they will have to accept responsibility themselves
Kickoff was 1.30pm, though anyone would have thought that kickoff was at 2pm, judging by the trickle of people making their way in. The only noise were from Burnley fans, and given how quickly the underwhelmed street cleaners moved in and the Holmesdale shutters went down, there was nothing to see. It was as though the whole operation closed down there and then, right in front of everyone's eyes. There was more life in the terraced housing in front of the Main Stand than anywhere within the Selhurst Park complex.
Walking away felt anti-climatic. There was no banners, nor protests, nor “Scum” yells, simply because there was no point. Any such action would have been up the proposed kick-about up the Hand-In-Hand in Wimbledon. It could have been an emotional send-off but it wasn’t. To quote one AFC Wimbledon fan, “we have something better now”. Judging by some comments from a few in London SE25, there will be some more people enjoying a better football club in the not too distant future.
Meanwhile, any passing football fan within the Selhurst Park area wanting to watch football would have been interested to know that there was Palace merchandise being sold in the sales. Unlike the more successful club of the past decade at Selhurst, the clothing looked better made and less likely to go anywhere.
[Images: Invites handed out by AFC Supporters to Franchise fans, and the Holmesdale Road a couple of minutes before kickoff.] |
