Premier League thinking cap

Today's big news in the world of football.

"Does this go far enough?" asks BBC Sport, of the news that price caps are to be trialled in the Premier League.  My initial reaction was that actually, it goes rather too far.

It may be a controversial view amongst football fans, but I have long been of the opinion that football clubs, as privately-run organisations, should have the right to charge what they like for the services or commodities they offer (including tickets to matches) – and that what is a "fair" price for tickets is determined by what people are prepared to pay to go to a game.  I have vocally defended the rights of clubs to raise their ticket prices, on various football discussion forums – normally in the face of near unanimous opposition from fans whose view of the matter is romanticised, rather than rationalised – and told people that if they think the cost of tickets is too high, the answer is to stop buying them.  This, after all, is how markets work; prices are set by what people are willing to pay for whatever is on offer.

But the more I think about the matter, the more I question my steadfast defence of the laws of supply-and-demand, in regards to ticket sales in football.  I am instinctively pro-free markets, and against intervention and price control, I make no bones about that.  But how "free" really is the "market" for football tickets?

After all, can the laws of supply-and-demand be said to apply equally to football, when the attitudes of "consumers" are so fundamentally different from in other areas?  In light of today's news about price caps on away tickets, I have been giving the issue some considerable thought; I don't claim to have any conclusive answers about the economics of football, not by a long way, but I am going to set out a few of my thoughts on the topic here, and invite comments – to my mind, this is a fascinating discussion, which we (as football supporters) should be talking about more openly.

So, let us first consider a "standard" model for a "free" market.  The same products or services are offered by multiple providers, and this creates competition in the market – different companies producing, say, washing powder are competing with each other for the same customers, and this encourages each company to produce better quality washing powder at a lower cost, in the hope of attracting consumers to purchase their products over the rivals' similar offerings.

In this way, what washing powder is "worth" is set by the people buying it, not by the people selling it – if the majority of consumers decide they won't pay Company A's higher prices, because they don't think it offers any real benefits over the cheaper washing powder offered by Company B, Company A will be forced to lower their prices (or prove that their product is worth the extra money) due to a lack of sales as consumers choose Company B instead, believing their product to be better value.

Now, contrast this with the "market" for football clubs.  At first glance, it is similar to the washing powder scenario; there are many football clubs, all around the country, all offering the opportunity for consumers to pay to watch football – some offering higher quality, some offer lower quality, some have high prices, some have lower prices, etc.

But this is a false equivalency.  It assumes that "consumers" of football are simply paying to watch football, and that they don't much care who is playing – just as consumers of washing powder probably aren't too bothered by which logo is on the box, as long as their laundry is clean and fresh.  No, unlike washing powder users, for football supporters the "brand" (ie. which team is playing) is all important; a lifelong Spurs fan (for example) isn't suddenly going to go and watch Leyton Orient play instead because the tickets are a bit cheaper – for him the important thing isn't simply watching football, it is watching Spurs.  And there isn't another Tottenham Hotspur Football Club just down the road, offering consumers the chance to watch the same team play for slightly less money.  In other words, the football "market" has an illusion of "competition" – but in reality, each club actually has a monopoly over its own "brand".

Brand loyalty exists in many areas of the market.  But nowhere is it so visceral as when it comes to supporting a particular football club.  The feelings many football fans have for their club go well beyond simple loyalty to a certain "brand" – the idea of football supporters as consumers who are willing to switch supplier to save money is ludicrous.  As such, it is difficult to apply the laws of supply-and-demand to the football "market" in exactly the same way as other areas.

Of course, "consumers" still have a choice.  But that choice is a binary one – either go to the game, or don't go.  No one is being forced to pay for something they feel is not worth the asking price, and there is an argument to be made that "consumer power" (ie. not buying tickets deemed to be "overpriced", and thus sending a club a message about pricing structures through the medium of lost ticket revenue) is still a better way of tackling the issue than imposing price controls.  But football blurs the boundaries of the way people make decisions; there is a huge cultural element to football, and those of us who wish to approach this discussion with cerebral objectivity would be foolish to ignore that.

I imagine (with no data to hand) that a not insignificant proportion of football fans would still prioritise going to matches over what might rationally be considered more "essential" expenses, if it came to that choice.  That is how serious the game – and perhaps more pertinently, the club – is to many people.  A central tenet of support for free markets must surely be a belief that people are able to make their own decisions, and a commitment to allowing them to do so; is it not therefore necessary to at least attempt to understand how they make those decisions?

The "value" of football to many people is more than simply a monetary value.  Much as my natural response might be not to interfere, and to allow the free market to take its course, I am forced to accept that the nature of football, and it's importance to many people, means the market choices may not truly be "free".

That is not to say that I am wholeheartedly endorsing the price cap on away tickets in the Premier League – I think there could be complications that arise from this, and that it could end up creating as many problems as it solves – but even if it goes against my instincts, more in-depth thought on the matter has meant I have had to concede that there is at the very least a decent case for giving it a try.  It will be very interesting to monitor the situation over the next few seasons, as the price cap is trialled, and then reevaluate things.

We're on our way to Wembley… Or, some of us are, at least

The following is an edited, cleaned-up, more coherent rendering of something I posted late last night to a 'Norwich City Fan Forum' group on Facebook, regarding the somewhat fractious exchanges recently between those supporters who've been able to get hold of tickets to the Play-Off Final at Wembley, and those who've missed out.

I can't believe some of the bollocks that's being talked regarding tickets for Wembley.  I would've loved to have gone.  The club have decided not to put any tickets on general sale – no obviously, now, I can't.  That sucks.  But it's up to the club to decide how to do their business regarding ticket sales, and I understand their reasoning. 

What I don't understand is a bunch of smug gits telling fans who are – completely understandably – disappointed not to be able to go one of the biggest occasions for Norwich City in a long time that they're not as 'worthy', not as 'loyal', or whatever.
Everyone understands that when demand outstrips supply, some people will lose out.  We (those people), for the most part, understand why that is, and respect that.  But when the response from those who have managed to get tickets is essentially "Well, that's your own stupid fault – you should've been a better, more virtuous fan, like me!" that can really grate on you. 

Nothing gives any supporter the right to strut about, lording it over others, thinking they're better.  It's "true fan" nonsense – the nasty mindset where some supporters think they are more 'pure', or that their support is somehow worth more than others', because they do it 'better' – and in the past, that has been (rightly) frowned upon by most of the Norwich City Supporters' community.  Lots of things determine whether or not somebody buys a Season Ticket, or Priority Membership – not just the 'quality' of their support – and you have to be either inordinately stupid, or insufferably obtuse, not to see that.  Or, you have to be the kind of self-absorbed, ostentatious cretin who likes nothing more than to feel a sense of superiority over other fans who, for whatever reason, can't have what you have.  And, frankly, that's how a lot of people are acting – which is rather sad, isn't it? 

If you think you are more 'worthy' than another supporter, someone needs to tell you what a stupid, venal attitude that is.  We're all Norwich fans, and we should be enjoying this momentous moment for our club, and celebrating together; instead, some people are bitter, whiney and hurt – while others are being pompous, gloating, self-congratulator popinjays.  It's not pleasant, it's not cool, and it's not a good look for any of us. 

Enjoy Wembley.

My final #Olympics post: regret

A few short weeks ago, I wrote about the Olympic Games - I described how I believed that London 2012 would be a great event, and a very momentous occasion for Great Britain, and I expressed my hopes that the cynics and the grumblers would give it a rest for the next couple of weeks.

And I was right - the Games have been a triumph, and (for the most part, at least) the resentment and the scoffing has turned into genuine admiration and praise for these very special two weeks.  The International Olympic Committee has heaped praise upon LOCOG, the city of London, and the people of Great Britain as a whole.  If I'm honest, I'm very sad that, by the end of today, it's all going to be over.

But what makes me saddest, is that I never got to be a part of it all.

I have loved watching the Olympics on television.  The BBC Olympics coverage has been second-to-none, and they have received many (richly-deserved) accolades for the quality of broadcasting.  I have been amazed and delighted by the success of Team GB - such an enormous haul of Medals at a home Games, and third place in the Medals Table, is quite astonishing, and an extraordinary achievement which is testimony in itself to the quality of the sportsmen and women we, as a nation, have produced.  (Not to mention our "behind the scenes" teams of coaches, trainers, nutritionists, organisers, promoters, and so on.)  I am proud of every single one of them.

But this all combines to make this particular Olympic Games (the Games of the 30th Olympiad) all the more unique - and this, in turn, makes me even sadder not to have been involved at all.

It quickly became apparent that the 2012 Olympic Games would be the defining event of this generation.  It is something which will be talked about, for years to come.  It is something which people will look back on, and remember fondly.  My memories of it will mainly involve sitting on a variety of sofas, watching a variety of television screens.  When people ask in the future "what did you do at London 2012?" or "what events did you go to at London 2012?" I will have nothing to say.

Not through a lack of trying.  Initially, I applied to be a Games Maker (one of the volunteers who did all the jobs which a huge undertaking such as the Olympics requires) and, although I got invited to the interview procedure in London, and made it through that, I never actually got offered a volunteer rôle.

After that, I tried, multiple times, to apply for tickets, so that I could at least go to an event, see the Games in action, and soak up the atmosphere.  But I never quite managed to find anything - all the tickets were snapped up within seconds of their being posted online, and the London 2012 Ticketing website was set out in a confusing and convoluted way.

There will be other Olympics.  Of course there will - the Games will be in Rio in 2016, as we know, and after that, goodness knows where else!  And there will be other big sporting events happening in Britain.  (The BBC presenters have often alluded to the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow in 2014 during the coverage of the London Olympics.)  But that isn't the same, is it?  I'm sure that going to Glasgow or Rio would be fantastic - as would many, many other things - but London 2012 is gone, and that special, unique feeling of having something so wonderfully all-encompassing as the Olympic Games here in Great Britain is unlikely to come around again for a long, long time.

I honestly feel like I have missed out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience - and, much as I have enjoyed every moment of the Olympics, I will always regret that I never truly got to be a part of it.