Over Memorial Day Weekend 2018, I visited a friend in Indianapolis for the Indy 500. It was a beautiful weekend, filled with rain, a long search for an adequate cooler, and a thrilling tribute to milk.
Early in the weekend, my friend and I stopped at a local soccer bar, which I believe was British, and would probably rather be known as either a British bar or a football bar, but here we are—calling two sports football is confusing for me and this is not about to become a soccer blog (I must not stretch myself too thin over here), so proper terminology has been deemed a low priority.
Anyway, my friend wanted to watch Fulham play in the match that would determine whether or not they’d be promoted to the Premier League (guessing it has a name, but again, here we are). They won, and I decided that in solidarity with my friend, I would be a Fulham fan for the 2018-19 English Premier League season.
What proceeded to happen over the next twelve months was semi-monthly repetitions of the following cycle:
1. Remember I’m supposed to be a Fulham fan.
2. Check how Fulham is doing.
3. Notice Fulham is not doing well.
This past May, Fulham was relegated back to the Championship League, leaving me without a favorite team in the EPL.
To make things clear, I don’t need an EPL team. It is more likely than not that I make it the next twelve months without watching a single game of soccer. But it’s fun to have a team, because objectively reasonless allegiances are entertaining. So I decided to choose one.
I’m still a Fulham fan, so I needed to be careful and ensure I wasn’t choosing a rival of the Fighting Fulhams. Actually, I didn’t care about this, but I mention I’m still a Fulham fan because a dream of mine is to, for the next 23 years, pick an EPL team only to see that team relegated to the Championship League until I am ostensibly a fan of all 24 teams in the Championship League (and yes, I know that some of those teams will get relegated from the Championship League itself—I’m banking on re-promotion from League One timing out perfectly). But I did want to diversify my assets, picking a team from elsewhere than London. I also didn’t want to pick a particularly good team. I wanted an irrelevant one. One I could support in good conscience, but one that no American reasonably choosing an EPL team would choose.
We will proceed with the process of elimination:
Rule Number One: No Big Six
I’ve learned from Wikipedia (I learned all this stuff from Wikipedia) that the EPL has a “Big Six” of teams that are basically always the six best. I cannot support any of these six teams.
Eliminated: Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool, Manchester City, Manchester United, Tottenham Hotspur
Rule Number Two: No Bandwagon
It would be obnoxious for someone who cares as little as I do about soccer (Nothing against it—I am supportive of those who like it, but indifferent myself. But maybe that’s about to change!) to jump on a bandwagon. Even if that bandwagon’s glory days are over.
Eliminated: Leicester City
Rule Number Three: No London
I mentioned this earlier, but I wanted a team from a different part of England (or Wales, but sadly that isn’t an option this year) than where Fulham resides.
Eliminated: Crystal Palace, West Ham United, Watford (suburban London, I think, but shoutout Elton John)
Rule Number Four: Can’t Be Too Good
Wolverhampton Wanderers (The Wolverhampton Wanderers? How do I say these guys?) are playing in the Europa League this year, and while I love the idea of the Europa League, and how complicated it is, this is an indicator the team is not as bad as I want my team to be.
Eliminated: Wolverhampton Wanderers
Rule Number Five: No Conspiracy Theory-Driven Conflict with the Fanbase
#PaulIsDead.
Eliminated: Everton
Rule Number Six: Can’t Be Too Notable
Teams were eliminated here for being historically significant, significant in terms of generated revenue, or so historically significant that they are the world’s oldest soccer team.
Eliminated: Aston Villa, Newcastle United, Sheffield United
Rule Number Seven: The Team’s Locale Can’t Be Too Nice
Brighton was described by Wikipedia as “hip” and “happy.” Norwich was described as an idyllic medieval town.
They sound lovely to visit, but much too nice to create an authentically anguished fanbase when confronted with the prospect of relegation.
Eliminated: Brighton & Hove Albion, Norwich City
Rule Number Eight: No Qualms About Ownership
I don’t know if Maxim Demin qualifies as an oligarch, but he’s certainly rich and Russian, and this doesn’t feel like the time for me to ally myself with that. Similarly, I couldn’t figure out who owns Southampton, but it looks like an obscure Chinese firm? Not sure how they feel about Hong Kong, so not sure how I feel about them.
Eliminated: Bournemouth, Southampton
Which leads me to…
I am now a Burnley fan.
Becoming a fan of the team located the second (or fourth, I didn’t go to the trouble of measuring)-furthest from London felt right geographically. Supporting a team coming off a Europa League flameout and certainly at risk of relegation felt right competitively. Supporting a team with British ownership felt right culturally.
But what made me know I’d found my EPL home for the year was this guy. Yep, that’s a bee in a really boring jersey (Kit? Help me out here.). Bertie Bee is great in his own right, but he’s especially fitting for me because of the natural synergies between him and my Weber State campaign.
So go bees, or go Burnley, or whatever I’m supposed to say. I hope you win lots of games this year and make me like the EPL. But if you get relegated, I will find it funny, and it will help advance me toward achieving my Championship League dreams.
