More than a club

Anyone who has ever visited FC Barcelona’s magnificent Nou Camp stadium will be familiar with the phrase “mes que un club” or “more than a club”.

It features on match tickets, the team’s shirts and is spelled out in huge yellow letters on the stadium’s seats – exactly where the logo of beer companies, gambling websites and other corporate sponsors would usually be at less principled clubs. For Barcelona really is more than a club, and they will not let anyone forget it.

During Francisco Franco’s reign, the Catalan (and insignia of other regions such as the Basque country) flag and language was banned from public use. Football teams were forced to adopt the Spanish spelling of their names and remove any reference, signage or hint of regional identity.

The Nou Camp was a haven for anti-Franco Catalans during this time. Within the walls of the stadium was the one place people could express their true opinions, and in their native tongue. The club represented the Left’s struggle against the fascist regime, and Spaniards, Catalan or otherwise, became club members as a way of conveying their political allegiance without the danger attached to joining groups such as the Communist party. Barcelona was more than a club.

Today, those political ideals remain and are a major driving force behind the famous rivalry with Real Madrid – the team of Franco, the Royal Family and with a history of connections to the Spanish establishment. It’s a rivalry far more complex than anything English football has to offer, and demonstrates the importance football plays in the lives of Catalans and football fans across Spain.

When Pep Guardiola’s team beat Real Madrid, they are not just defeating their deadly rivals, but the country’s establishment. The people that have oppressed the city and the whole Catalan region – who attempted to strangle their culture.

That my club stands for playing attractive football and developing young players seems hopelessly insignificant compared to one that represents the spirit of a region and the country’s political left, and is often referenced in Spanish Civil War books.

But my club is still more than a club to me. It may not be connected to any romantic political ideology, but it still offers me absorbing escapism similar to that enjoyed by season ticket holders at the Nou Camp.

Supporting a football club properly is a thankless task that defies logic entirely. Fans put so much into something that they have absolutely no control over.

Like masochists, we hand over good money to watch games we know our teams will lose. We cheer players who kiss our shirt, only to be dumbfounded when they move across the city to our rivals. And we call radio stations to complain about the service we are getting, knowing full well there is no-one on the end of the line that can make the slightest bit of difference.

But just as we are now itching for the new season to start however dismally our teams performed last season, we will always go back. We are glutton for punishment, and have an addiction that Betty Ford and the Priory couldn’t begin to treat.

The love we have for our clubs is often unrequited, but always unconditional. It could not be offered to just a “club”. To the real fan, his or her football team is more than a club – whether that team is Barcelona or Blyth Spartans.