Programme Content. Groundhopping: Part One - The Rules of Engagement.

I myself have no particular set pattern or template that I apply my own travels. Of course, there are teams that I have an affinity with and will turn out faithfully to watch regularly in full on partisan supporter mode, as is probably the case with most people. But as regards all of the 'other stuff', I'm more of a 'here, there and everywhere' type of guy, who has got an interest and healthy appetite for all levels of the game, throughout a whole spectrum of variants, from grassroots and development team football to full international level and all ports of call in between.

 

Some people only want to lick the one flavour for whatever reason and that is their prerogative, but in my humble opinion: variety is the spice of life and that's the way it's been for me ever since I can remember. And it's not a formula I'm ever likely to want to change any time soon, regardless of the fact that some of the frowning elders of the ground hopping fraternity try to tell me that I'm doing it all wrong.

Given the number-crunching tendencies and often top-heavy schedules of the obsessive, possibly even addictive overindulgence that some established travellers (another moniker that some like to adopt) undertake, as regards their football attending habit, combined with the associated taking of copious amounts of notes throughout the course of each and every new ground they visit (or 'tick' in hopper parlance) to suit their craving for a fix of the beautiful game, you'd probably and quite reasonably expect that the mobile and ever-growing hordes of anoraks, must be fairly clued up as regards their knowledge and understanding of the intricacies of the game.

But in a large number of instances, that isn't the case at all. Because for some, it really is all about the thrill of ticking off another new ground to add to an ever-expanding list of previously uncharted territories and you can bet your life that those who're indulging will want to collect a programme, badge and team sheet at each port of call... so be prepared to be subjected to a 'child denied sweets' pre-pubescent Bonnie Langford type tantrum if you should fail to provide any of this mandatory list of requirements at your club of choice when they roll up at your door a few minutes prior to the scheduled kick-off time, because hell hath no fury like an empty handed ground hopper. 

And in due course, they will also demand of you (and fastidiously record) the microscopic detail of each and every game they attend, even though the actual action out on the field of play is effectively peripheral to the purpose of a large number of this footballing subculture being present at any given venue.

Incidentally, when I talk of the 'ever-growing hordes', I don't actually mean that the individuals involved are getting any taller, it was just an observation pertaining to the fact that this tribe of nomadic wanderers multiplies and increases in numbers each and every year. 

And while the vast majority of them are, more often than not, a cheerful and merry old bunch of souls, there are some notable exceptions to that rule of thumb generalisation.

In days of yore, whence I was still working at a smashing little club that ply their trade just about on the borderline of North Notts and South Yorkshire, a car full of hoppers turned up at the gate some ten minutes before kick-off and were nonplussed to discover that we only had two programmes left for them to share between their group. I explained that one of our players had picked up an injury during the warm up and that I was in the process of amending the team-sheet while liaising with the opposition club secretary and match referee, but that once I'd announced the team line-ups over the tannoy (as per league rules), arranged for our right-back to get a lift to the hospital (or most likely be commandeered to take him myself) and penned something resembling a match-report of the first-half and taken a few photos while updating the club's social media feeds; when/if I got a few spare moments at half-time, I would gladly nip to the office and print off a few more copies of the programme and even photocopy the official team sheets for them. But that wasn't good enough!

"We've come all the way from Hampshire and your club is meant to be issuing programmes!" We did! And after years of estimating how many we'd most likely need for different games, we usually got the numbers about right. But on this occasion, we needed two more (hardly a crisis situation. was it?). However, I was presented with an angry ultimatum: "If you're not issuing now, for all of us, we're not coming in!" 

As a representative of a club with a community spirited reputation to consider, I merely smiled and bid them farewell (or words to that effect) as they marched towards their car, pausing only to shout back: "Which way is it to Rossington from here? I bet they'll have programmes!" Indeed they would have, very good award winning ones too as it happens... but I really hope that they had sold out of their full allocation too, before these plebs arrived there.

I read all about the incident on an internet forum later that night, where it was claimed that the perplexed 'bacon-faces' had been sent packing by an angry looking, shaven headed, extensively tattooed yobbo (I can't imagine who that might have been), who'd sworn at them and shown not an ounce of consideration for their plight... and furthermore, they didn't find Rossington in time for kick-off either.

"Left out of the car park, right at the roundabout at the end of the road and it's about six miles that way... watch out for the speed cameras", is obviously too much information to absorb when your head is shot to pieces because you would've had to wait for forty-five minutes to procure a programme, which your sense of entitlement evidently thought was a far more prioritous than dealing with an injured player and attending to official club/league paperwork commitments. 

Incidentally: 'bacon-faces' (along with 'Hampshire Hogs') is a much used pseudonym for people from their neck of the woods, I have no axe to grind with anybody based upon their geographical origins. 

But I digress... moving swiftly back onto the subject matter in hand, or least-ways somewhere not quite so far off tangent least-ways, the travellers phraseology: "Do you issue/", means: 

"Do you have programmes available? Because I will damn well expect one even if I turn up just as the teams are about to enter the field of play. 

And you better bloody well print too many each and have a surplus leftover every effing week, just in case I, or any my ilk, honour your club with a once in a lifetime visit and expect to be treated like royalty for the day". For the record, if Queen Elizabeth II herself had rolled up shortly before 3PM the following weekend, she probably wouldn't have got a bloody programme until half time either.

Personally, I prefer to get a programme on my own travels, if one is obtainable... and should the team line-ups be on offer too, then all the better. But I'm not ever going to 'kick-off' and burn rubber as my car screeches away from any given ground, just because neither option was available to me.

And to be perfectly honest, I believe that if anybody who purports to being an adult behaves in such a manner, they genuinely need to grow up, get over themselves and/or find something more constructive to do with their time. Anger management counselling is available for free on the NHS these days.

Groundhopping even has it's own language, besides the phrases already detailed above, for example: one of the 'hogs' had visited the ground previously, when it had been used as a neutral venue for a youth cup final; though for three of them it would've represented a 'new tick', for the more extensively travelled member of their party, it would only have represented a 'revisit', even though his attendance at the schoolboys game would have been classed as a 'bracketed tick', i.e. a game at any facility in which the host side aren't actually playing.

At least I believe that is what the latter example of 'traveller newspeak' means, though please feel free to pour scorn on me and aim plenty of angry, pedantic and corrective invective my way, if it makes you feel better about yourself because you have a better grasp of the lingo than me. But I can't actually promise that I'll actually care less if you do.

I have a theory about what motivates the participants of this ground-hopping cult. And that is: the mentality required to follow such a vocation, is borne out of man's inherent desire to collect things and a lust to master the art of list-making. 

Be it train numbers, vinyl records, stamps, militaria, football programmes, or sightings of rare birds, the partaking in copious amounts of different ales, attempting to watch every bit of single bit smut on porn hub, or just about anything... we've all got something than we obsess about, haven't we?

Of course, when I talk of 'man's inherent desires' it would be remiss of me not to include the female of the species at this juncture, because there are a good number of women who are hoppers too, but in the main, it is the males that dominate the demographic breakdown of those who choose to 'hop 'til they drop' for their escapist fix. 

The younger generation of either gender (and the non-gender aligned) football travellers, are still very thin on the ground (though this rare breed does seem to be on the increase of late) and as such I feel confident enough to claim that ground-hopping is, generally speaking, a walk of life that is trodden by the more mature connoisseurs of the beautiful game, the older element of society and the more senior members of the footballing community, though of course, there will always be exceptions to any rule.

It's a curious phenomena, that while there is no particular uniform dress code that hoppers tend to adhere too... having said that, you'll still be able to spot one a mile away because of what they're wearing; as well as their general demeanour, mannerisms and ability to close out the rest of the world as they unselfconsciously go about minding their own business, while not taking a blind bit of notice as to how you're going about yours. 

Try it for yourself sometime, it's therapeutic and not a bad place to spend the rest of your days, while the rest of the world concerns itself with all of that other irrelevant stuff that only exists outside your own private head space and protective bubble.

Surely it is obvious to everybody, that remaining neutral, following your own path and not nailing any kind of alien flag to your mast, thus keeping out of other peoples biased arguments, petty agendas, fist fights and depressing squabbles, cleanses your mind and is ultimately good for your wellbeing. Even though that all goes against the tribalistic mindset that probably led us towards the game of football in the first place. 

Buddhists with their yoga and transcendental meditation, pot-smokers (prior to the paranoia kicking in) and those who allude to the mantras of Hare Krishna higher consciousness, might believe that they've found the highest plateau of heavenly nirvana and outer body calm available to mankind, but trust me on this one... they're not even close to discovering the fulfilment and peace of mind, that is enjoyed by those of us who have willingly sold our soul to the groundhopping movement. 

Well, apart from the miserable bar-stewards who'll have a dummy spitting hissy fit of cyber-proportions, if they miss out on getting a programme, or your officially announced attendance and goal times aren't identical to their estimated headcount or calibrated stopwatch precision.