Aston Villa 1 Manchester City 2 - Another Tainted Trophy Brings Little Happiness

Although some believed him to be crazy, Diogenes was also one of the most respected and loved philosophers of the 4th century BCE, and one of the most famous founders of the ancient Greek school of philosophy known as Cynicism. Like Antisthenes, Diogenes believed in self-control, the importance of personal excellence in one’s behaviour, and the rejection of all which was considered unnecessary in life such as personal possessions and social status. Most of you plebs won’t know this, but at one point in his life, Diogenes started living in a barrel at the Temple of Cybele. He got rid of his belongings, and maintained a diet of just onions. One day he saw a child cupping his hands to drink water, after that he threw away his own cup, remarking something along the lines of “A child has beaten me in plainness of living.” I thought of this story when I ventured onto social media this week, to be greeted by the antithesis of Diogenes, in the form of the Manchester City cabal, ganging up on one respected football journalist, whose 8 hours of Twitter reasoning seemed to be in vain. He would try valiantly the next day, and for the 700 days thereafter, but he was fighting the tide. The Manchester City fans of old, of Stuart Pearce, honest endeavour and inflatable bananas, would have respected Diogenes, a kindred spirit. They would have understood the humility and sacrifice. Now they simply embrace the cynicism. As City won their 8^th domestic trophy out of the last 9 available, the question must be asked – have a successful fan base ever been so unhappy?

As the minority of the crowd, namely the City fans, trudged out of the ground, you’d think they had lost the match. This is a fan base that does not do happy. They thrive on misery, so the last thing they needed was to see their club win yet another Carabao Cup. In fact, they were at their happiest when scapegoat John Stones fell over in the first half to allow Villa back into the game. Thus they were allowed the opportunity to pile in on social media, an army of petro dollar funded trolls and shills whose oxygen is arguing on Twitter. Whatever their arguments, they carry little weight. What does Carabao royalty entail? What does it mean? Where is there achievement in winning 8 trophies instead of 7? There’s essentially no difference between the two, which makes you ponder the point of the whole day. The fifth most decorated club in English football will always have an asterisk next to their name now.  For the losing fans, there was relevance. A proud club, built on sweat and tears and European success. A team that prevailed despite £69m losses in the 2^nd tier of English football, and whose humble billionaire owners, with a mere £8 billion to their name, would never stoop to the levels of City’s troll army.

It’s not just the fans that tarnish the name of this once-proud club though. The disrespect was there for all to see from the players after the match ended. Mahrez and Mendy disrupted an interview with Raheem Sterling, an important part of Sky’s output that should not be demeaned in this manner. Then Benjamin Mendy, more of a presence off the pitch than on it, immaturely stole a camera from club photographer Victoria Haydn, who was close to tears as she tried in vain to retrieve her valuable kit. For the club though this was a rare chance to divert thoughts away from their legal wrangles, arrogance and disdain towards UEFA, for a day at least. The players played their part, full of smiles after the final whistle saved them from the Aston Villa onslaught that lasted for most of the 2nd half. Beneath the veneer, the artificial facade, you could see the shame and disgust wrought wide on their faces. The bench provided a damning statement on the lack of competition in English football. With a value of 27 billion Turkish lira, it cost more than the town of Aston itself, whilst the Villa team, whose modest £130m summer outlay would barely get you two City full backs, can surely claim a moral victory, if not the trophy itself.

As for the match itself, by the end City were holding on for dear life, after 90 minutes that will surely shame the club further.  For not only have City cheated off the pitch, but it seems they have taken to cheating on it too. A natural progression for a grubby club. Considering the tarnished image that the club finds itself with, it could be argued that City should have refused the corner they were awarded. Fair play was in short supply on the day, from one team at least. Club mascot Phil Foden was allowed a rare foray onto the pitch, soon to return back to the bench no doubt. His problem is he doesn’t have a fancy name and wasn’t bought on the back of arms deals, slavery and petro dollars. He never stood a chance. Some fans didn’t even stay for an hour or more after full-time, with tall tales of missing the last train. This wasn’t a day to celebrate for football. It was a victory for geopolitics, mercenaries, and flaunted wealth. This is what unlimited resources gets you. A Mickey Mouse cup 5 times in 7 years. Pyrrhic victories, whilst down the East Lancs Liverpool, for whose fans it means more, prove that romance has not been totally removed from the modern game.  City have not just killed competitiveness, they have killed this proud trophy too. Three successive wins proves that. Pep Guardiola would rather it was abolished anyway, his disdain for not only the tournament but all energy drinks too is there to see in plain sight. His inclusion of Claudio Bravo was a sneering display of the contempt he held for the opposition. His disdain was clear after the match, that is until he realised the camera was on him, at which point there was a stark change in his demeanour. PR is everything with this club, image all-important.

As I left the ground, two City fans on Wembley way seemed especially inconsolable. A torrent of tears appeared to flow from them into a nearby gutter, though i didn’t have a clear view. They know that this success is bought, is fake. Their tears were for all of us, the vomit that followed soon after less so. Their club’s vulgarity is literally making them ill. What in the end is happiness? It’s surely not this. A state’s plaything. Happiness is the first daffodils of spring, becoming a parent, or Manchester United’s organic growth. It is discovering Virgil’s Aeneid for the first time, breaking the yolk of a perfectly poached egg, watching Mo Salah in full flight. It is not unlimited wealth, tarnished success, and endless vulgarity. It is not empty seats, anthem booing or torrents of tears on Wembley Way. Might as well be Celtic.

Online, the trolls were out in force after the match, not even capable of celebrating for a single hour. Some even arrogantly suggested that City should keep the trophy now that they have won it three times in a row. Another fan suggested the production of a special commemorative gold trophy. All this whilst 1 in 4 in the UK are thought to live in abject poverty. Crass. My WhatsApp friends agree. But what of the future? The corona virus will divert our attention from this grubby club’s ills for a while, but history won’t forget. Nor the streets.

We don’t know if the diet of onions caused many tears for Diogenes. We must assume so. What we do know is that the tears of salty shills on social media sites seem very real. They scrape the barrels rather than reside in them, and embrace the cynicism that was born with a different ethos in mind. If Diogenes was alive today, he’d be turning in his grave. It was not meant to be this way. As football slowly dies, will the last one out turn off the light. It will probably be a City fan protesting that the light was a sound investment, and that electricity is a sham that favours big corporations anyway. The future is bleak. Carabao’s refreshing range of drinks taste sour. The authorities dig their own holes. And rich Arab sheikhs laugh in our face. How has it come to this?

Full time  – Aston Villa 1 Manchester City 2.

​