Written by SouperJim on Wednesday, 13th Mar 2019 11:05
There is an unspoken contract between the fans and the club. Marcus Evans has ripped up this contract.
Fans will pay to come and watch the team, they will emotionally invest and follow the team through thick and thin. In return, the club must reward that investment both financial and emotional with entertaining football.
They must do what they can to make Ipswich Town as successful as it can be, both off the pitch and on it, with respect for the traditions and history of the club, preserving its identity and ensuring it remains something those fans can be proud of and want to invest in.
Under Marcus Evans, Ipswich Town has become a club without a soul, reduced to a binary analysis of profit and loss, with risk management valued far higher than glory or success. We are no longer proud and our appetite for investment is sorely tested.
The first signs of trouble were Roy Keane's hostile environment. Ex-players, responsible for our club's finest moments, were now viewed as unwelcome hangers on, not entitled to so much as a cup of tea. Our proud history described as all in the past, a millstone of expectation rather than a badge of honour. The first cut is the deepest and this scar across our identity is not easily healed.
The end of season lap of honour seen as an embarrassment if nothing had been achieved. You miss the point Roy, it's for the players to applaud the fans as much as the other way around. We are not a big club, we are a great little club. We need this relationship if we are to be a success.
A strip of frozen pitch the catalyst for another low point. 50 per cent off a ticket for the replay of a game abandoned after just 37 minutes justified as going "way beyond the commitment required in the terms and conditions" on the back of your ticket, valued consumer. We are not customers Simon, we are fans. We are supporters. Without us, this club is nothing.
If you can't win a game, don't lose it. Sound logic it would seem, but Mick McCarthy will never be a football fan. There is no glory in a point.
The FA Cup exists to be competed for, to be won gloriously by those who dare to believe. We dream of glorious victories, of promotion, of silverware. We will never be grateful for or satisfied with mid-table football, Mick. Like it or lump it, you can lump it. Be careful what you wish for? Please try to stop being so bitter, it's not healthy. Death by a thousand cuts.
But wait. Now we have Paul Lambert. Lambert understands us. Our legends are welcomed back with open arms. Players are actively encouraged to thank the fans for their support. Loyalty is rewarded, from the manager's own pocket.
Social media is monitored, fans are asked their opinion on ticket pricing and grumbles from those unable to benefit from ticket promotions softened by free hospitality. We try and win games of football.
OK, we're not very good at it yet, but we are trying. Trying to win. Trying to attack, trying to pass, trying to play. The players we are entrusting our future to are ours. Our academy products. Our boys. Our Blue Action. Every Saturday we follow, we cheer the boys in blue.
The signs are there that Marcus is slowly learning. The leadership vacuum at the club is being filled. Lee O'Neill has the credentials that Clegg and Milne lacked. Lambert has the sticky tape in hand and has located most of the pieces of the contract. Stay the course reader, because even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
Come on you Blues.
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