For whom the Bell toils
LEEDS United fans! As the club’s Director of Commercial Affairs, Paul Bell wants to know about YOU! He’d like to know where you go on matchdays, what you do and when you do it – all so he can try to change it. How about pop bands and cheerleaders at Elland Road for example? Or social media?
“I have been thinking about the way we get Twitter into the match day routine,” he writes. “Can comments be moderated so that we can post Tweets onto the Giant Screen?”
Moderation, yes. Because if there’s one thing about Leeds United supporters I don’t believe the club’s actually interested in, it’s what we think. From Yorkshire Radio to LUTV, Ken Bates has consistently sought new ways for the club to say nothing, and they need to know where we are and what we do so they can sell it to us, preferably at arm’s length, or – even better – down a wire.
On Wednesday, the club launched LUTV Box Office, presenting existing subscribers with the opportunity to watch the pre-season games against SK Brann and Wolves on a pay-per-view basis. If the plan was to so entice a non-subscriber with the exciting prospect of “one camera coverage” from Norway that they would peel off the £40 annual fee, plus £5 for each of the ground-breaking broadcasts, it hasn’t.
Instead, existing subscribers reacted angrily to the venture (a “disgrace”, “bare-faced cheek”, “daylight robbery”) and several sought to cancel their contracts. Today brought the third day of unanswered messages to Director of Commercial Affairs Paul Bell on various forums, blogs and on twitter, as the man bringing social networking to Leeds United neglects to use it to engage with critique.
The decision to charge LUTV subscribers extra for pre-season friendlies not only irritates them, but represents a missed opportunity to attract new viewers on a trial basis. On the assumption, of course, that it’s preferable to expand Leeds United’s existing fanbase rather than milk its loyalty.
Just as our New Year’s revolution stated, the internet is enabling the voices of Leeds United supporters everywhere to crescendo into new, entirely authentic forms. According to Felix Wetzel, an associate of Paul Bell, “social media only works within an open and transparent environment.” Perhaps that’s why fans use it effectively, while the club doesn’t? Just a thought.
Uruguay carried the menace in this game. From front to back they’re pure evil, with Diego Forlan the devil incarnate. Always sickeningly in space, the ball whirls dervishly from his feet, always to a teammate, usually Luis Suarez, whose two goals proved decisive.
Even 33 rows back we weren’t safe from the torrent of half-charlie-sized wet marbles. While everyone except the block of flag-waving Uruguayans headed for cover in a ground where there was little to be had, up in the cheap seats the high and dry honked their vuvuzelas like a chorus of laughing geese.
Waitrons flitted between tables at the proliferating street cafes of the smart Richmond Hill neighbourhood, on whose wide avenues prowl uniformed car guards cheerily pointing motorists (many driving Mk1 Volkswagen Golfs, which are still made in the area) into parking spaces for a few rand.
Street markets and impromptu pavement stalls are a way of life here. I made the mistake of stepping by one into a small art gallery, where the Afrikaner proprietor told me how they’d adored living in the UK because in South Africa there’s no culture. “Not like yours,” she added.
Mark and I headed down to the casino and soon found ourselves – like England – drinking in the last-chance saloon. As travel-weary fans ran up bar tabs on plush furnishings next to the slots and tables, entrepreneurial spirits drifted between standing traffic outside, peddling St George flags and fresh copies of the Daily Mirror. After a few quick pints, there was a rumour Nicky Campbell was in the area, so we didn’t stick around.
In the end, England’s sour-faced Cockney and Scouse millionaires ran down the clock while Fabio Capello stood in that different-bloke-in-a-different-suit-wearing-different-specs-in-charge-of-the-same-old-shite way of his, and as Slovenian players bunched in the centre circle, their fans pogoed in anticipation before stopping and heading grumpily for the exits.
This had been South Africa’s day. The local test cricket ground is the imposing venue for Port Elizabeth’s fanfest and we had taken up a position at first slip to enjoy multi-lingual match coverage (South Africa having 
Approaching the ground in Port Elizabeth on foot is not unlike the walk down Beeston Hill to Elland Road. There’s nowhere decent to drink and enterprising local youths offer lucrative car parking “services” to which a sizable yet low-key police presence turn a blind eye. A neighbourhood watches as a colourful river of people, a trickle by the time we passed through minutes before kick off, wends its way to the magisterial Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium.
Despite facing 10 men for what seemed like a fortnight, Chile will never have to work harder for a 1-0 win. As Switzerland manager Otto Hitzfeld symbolised his team’s work ethic by trudging the touchline dressed as a removal man, the evening sunshine gave way to a distinctly northern European temperature and the cowbell-clanging Swiss supporters were daring to dream – just as their back line melted under hot stuff from their opponents.
