The chairman of Nottingham Forest referred to The City Ground as “our forever home” only a few months ago, but the owner is currently discussing moving to a new stadium. According to Peter Blackburn, the ground represents more than simply an emotional connection, and the club is more than just a place of business.
More than anybody else before or since, English war poet Edmund Blunden was able to express the significance — the almost spiritual quality — of sports. In a piece about his cherished sport, he defined cricket as “more than play.” In actuality, it was far more important. It was “worship in the summer sun,” as he put it. It was a line that inspired one of my very first sports essays that I ever composed. And on Saturday, it moved from the back of my long-forgotten recollections to the front of my consciousness.
I haven’t experienced the intensity of feelings at a Nottingham Forest game like I did on Saturday in a few months. Though the religious fervor had somewhat subsided, my affection for the location—the stroll from the bar, the view, that perspective, the scents and noises both horrifying and entrancing—remained unaltered. I suppose it was the culmination of several things: our painful and exhausting split from Steve Cooper; financial mismanagement and punishment off the field; unfavorable outcomes and the controversy surrounding refereeing decisions and club responses to them; and dejection at club decision-making regarding matters such as ticket pricing, which left a lot of us feeling forgotten and unloved.
I suppose it was the culmination of several things: our painful and exhausting split from Steve Cooper; financial mismanagement and punishment off the field; unfavorable outcomes and the controversy surrounding refereeing decisions and club responses to them; and dejection at club decision-making regarding matters such as ticket pricing, which left a lot of us feeling forgotten and unloved. The most recent instances of boisterous worship at our unique location feel like they are pulsating through me right now, just as much a part of me as any piece of flesh or pint of blood. They are living, pounding, and incredibly poignant.
The play-off semi-final at home against Sheffield United was filled with pride in the community as we all cheered our team on. Forest is a magical team with an unending, pulsating rhythm. Even though the team was losing, the magic in the stands kept the ball out of our net and seemed to give Brice Samba’s decisions and dancing abilities unearthly qualities. And then Wembley came along. The waiting. The enthusiastic embraces and pints full of promise and ale alike. Then came the relief. And then there were our season’s high points, which occurred at home in the Premier League. Newcomers guided by a leader who cherished us equally as we cherished him.
the rush of adrenaline that comes from playing West Ham again in the big game. the pride in opposing Man City and Liverpool. the impression that Brighton would be dispatched and things would turn. And there are a tonne more, scattered all over my life and back through time; they are moving symbols of my development and maturation as I make the transition from childhood to maturity.
REMEMBER THE CITY GROUND
But things were different on Saturday. It was even more exceptional in certain aspects. In the midst of beautiful weather and the independence of outcomes elsewhere, the City Ground was once again a potent center of worship. As I took in my surroundings and all of my Forest memories came flooding back, I let out a depressingly poorly received “F**k off Toton” to start it all. I was so overcome by Proustian meditation that I was compelled to yell, even if it was only to scream into nothingness. Two more people took part as well. Although it wasn’t the most respectable of times, feelings aren’t always controlled and groomed; occasionally they can be unfiltered and even embarrassing.
But minutes later, more composed and thoughtful choirs had the crowd up on their feet. “Stand up for the City Ground,” rang out. It was joined by other chants, similarly uncompromising to my brief outburst, describing a potential stadium move and the proposed location for that move.
It was magic.
We’ve heard so much about the Rebel City in recent months but this was it — the real Rebel City. This was us channelling the brilliant words from that Forza Garibaldi banner: ‘Whoever’s name’s above the door, whoever holds the key. They’ll never own my football club, it belongs to you and me.’
At the pub, after the game, I was as emotional as I had been when those chants rang out. I was torn between two nagging thoughts — tussling for primacy.
“They can’t ignore that, can they?” a voice asked. “Maybe this is the countdown now,” said the other. How many more times will you experience that location’s pride and power? The owner finally revealed the truth, following a demeaning and disheartening round of public briefings and a mainly one-sided blame game with the City Council. The football club’s custodians publicly expressed their wish to relocate and eliminate one of the core tenets of what this football team represents to me and many others.
The fact that Marinakis and his family have committed significant financial resources to this football team will never change. And if having a large budget to support players and coaches is a key indicator of ambition, then the adjective most frequently used to characterize his ownership is accurate. However, there have also been issues that go beyond the fundamental idea of money spent, since, as Marinakis states in the interview, this is frequently money spent rather than a direct investment in the city. And in the last several weeks and months, it seems like they have been adding up. There are none more basic than the current state of affairs regarding the City Ground, which has been our home and place of prayer since 1898.
The club declared five years ago that it had secured a fresh 250-year lease for the location. “When we announced our plans for the redevelopment of the stadium, we recognized the importance of remaining at our iconic home,” stated Nicholas Randall, the chairman at that time. We are thrilled to have obtained our lease for an additional 250 years since we recognize the significance it holds for the residents of the City as well as for our sponsors. The club proudly tweeted images of the stadium in September of last year in celebration of its 125th anniversary, along with the hashtag #alwaystobehere. And only four months prior, when asked, “Are we definitely staying at the Forest?” a beaming Tom Cartledge, a Forest supporter and the football team’s newly appointed chairman, looked assured.
Cartledge replied, “To explicitly answer that question, in every contact I’ve ever had with the ownership, they’ve told me that the City Ground is our place to stay. Thus, we intend to stay. It is our 125th year here. We do not intend to look for other places to relocate. We will always call the City Ground home.
OUR EVEREST HOME
It’s difficult to comprehend how much has changed in that time. Perhaps much more difficult is to avoid seeing the briefings and interviews under a cloud of dishonesty. In light of recent reports, the City Council seems to be the target of a comparatively shallow criticism, as the focus of the arguments has shifted to sustainability regulations and profit. If there had been more openness and honesty, this might not have felt like a betrayal. The football team would do well to keep in mind that if the individuals who transform the playing field, wherever it may be, into a house of worship are no longer with you, then financial gains and corporate aspirations can become nothing. Asking businesses to invest in a silent, half-empty stadium is even more difficult.And one day it might occur to us that a boisterous City Ground in the most famous location for English football was in fact one of our best pitches – a major lure for businesses and international audiences. There can be compelling reasons to relocate. They haven’t been created very properly yet, save from some fans saying very meaningless things like how the game has changed and that these new rules make the project necessary. If decisions regarding our future are being made, the football team would be well to redirect its focus from politics and sniping to a proper, public process. I would like to see those. After the debates are over, those of us with firm opinions, and in fact those We are able to have our own opinions and are prepared to show empathy.
This football team is much more than just a company; it is an institution in the community and a fundamental aspect of who we are. Not only the millionaire or billionaire who is currently footing the tab for the players who don the Garibaldi, but all of us. The congregation should be taken into account and given a voice. For this football team’s realistic present and future as well as because it is the morally correct thing to do. This is where we worship. Every one of us. Engagement and openness, in my opinion, would have eliminated the ugliness and some of the sense of betrayal. It would take a lot of persuasion for me to feel comfortable giving up any of the unique items that define who we are, and it always will.
It is really difficult for custodians to actively contemplate and investigate doing that. It is even more distressing for them to think of accomplishing that by moving to a location that is miles distant from our spiritual home, has little benefits other from space, and would loom huge over the Derbyshire border. But it is unacceptable for custodians to act in secret, blaming others and offering justifications, without considering the fans’ opinions. This is more than just play for us. It goes beyond just business. In all conditions, it is worship.