Lovely turnstiles, Simon, but your team is a shabby mess
You know the old saying about re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic?
It came to mind as I was reading the column written by Ipswich Town chief executive Simon Clegg in the programme for the Nottingham Forest game on Monday.
While we were watching yet another utterly hopeless, witless, gutless display by our team, Mr Clegg was reassuring us that the turnstile entrances had been given a lick of paint!
He told us proudly of the “transformation which has taken place with the painting of the turnstile entrance areas along Sir Alf Ramsey Way and Portman Road.”
If that wasn’t thrilling enough, he went on to promise that other parts of the stadium would also be spruced up.
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I don’t think I’m the only Town fan who, frankly, doesn’t give a stuff about how smart (or not) the turnstiles look. I would happily have the scruffiest turnstiles in the whole of the footballing world if there was something vaguely entertaining to watch on the pitch.
That’s all we fans care about, Mr Clegg – what happens on the green, rectangular area between the stands. Being blunt about it, there won’t be as many people to admire your smart new paintwork in future if it carries on like this.
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We’re only a couple of months away from the club’s season ticket renewal campaign, and even the legendary patience of us mild-mannered Ipswich supporters is wearing thin.
It’s now ten long years since we were in the top flight, and the dream of Premier League football becomes more distant with every passing season. League One looks a much more realistic prospect.
I’m worried, I really am. How much money will Marcus Evans trust Paul Jewell with during this transfer window? His record in the transfer market over the last year isn’t exactly
impressive, is it?
In my view, all we have to look forward to is a scrap to avoid the drop. Finishing 15th would be good, from where we are now. It’s really desperate stuff.
For the longer term, what will happen to our fan base? It’s far too easy for local youngsters to be lured away by the glamour of big Premier League teams. They’re so accessible via wall-to-wall TV coverage.
I paid �26.50 for my 19-year-old lad to come to the game on Monday. He watched utter rubbish and was bored. He and his 16-year-old brother can only remember mediocrity at Portman Road, so it’s no wonder they have developed an affection for Manchester United. Shameful, I know, but it’s a fact of life. Will they become Ipswich Town season ticket holders in the future? Highly unlikely.
I hope I’m wrong, but at the moment I can’t see an end to the decade of decline which we’ve endured. Oh, sorry, I forgot: At least we’ve got the freshly painted turnstiles to admire.