Aston Villa Defector or Bluenose Prose?

Here at Joys and Sorrows, we received a rather intriguing email from a guy named Aron Vine.  He claims to be an Aston Villa fan with an interesting story to tell, which involves having to come see Birmingham City play this season.  We’re not entirely sure he’s legitimately a Villa fan, or simply a Blues fan out for a bit of fun, but it’s intriguing to say the least.  What do you think?

Why You Should Never Gamble With Your Support, by Aron Vine.

Hi guys,  I am writing to ask you to include my article on your fine Blog, Joys and Sorrows.

I’m a Villa fan, but honestly NOT on the wind-up.  A potted history would be that I am 36 years old, born 25 November 1975, used to live in Aston (Tamworth now), and until last season I was a season ticket holder in Trinity Road Middle (following in my Uncle’s footsteps…my Dad’s a Blues fan, season ticket holder in the Kop).

Rather embarrassingly, I started off life as a Birmingham City fan, courtesy of Dad, I’ve asked him for a grainy colour photo (yes, they DID exist that far back, kids) of me in my Blues kit to prove my ‘credentials’, so I shall forward that anon.  Luckily, my Uncle Mike ‘stepped in’ and took me to my first Villa matches in 1983, a 2-0 away loss to Sunderland, which didn’t put me off, and a home win (2-1!)against Arsenal, which proved a point to one of my friends at school.  Are you listening, Alex?  My Dad couldn’t believe I’d chosen Villa as ‘my’ team, citing their 3-0 win over us early in that season as incentive enough.  The simple fact was, though, that most of my friends at school supported Aston Villa, and my Uncle was able to take  me to the matches.  My Dad worked weekends.  My destiny was sealed.

Back in February, discussing the upcoming Wembley Cup Final with my Dad, he was absolutely ADAMANT that Blues would win, as he always is.  Even when the Blues couldn’t beat us over the years, he’d be there saying “next time…”.  Well that time finally came in the Carling Cup QF, and I really had to eat some humble pie that night, I can tell you.  Anyway, I told my Dad (Kevin) to put his money where his mouth is, so to speak.  Seemingly, my offer of £20 beer money wasn’t enough, so he suggested we should switch allegiances for the season to come.  If Blues won I’d have to head to Saint Andrews all season.  If Blues won, he’d accompany me and my Uncle Mike to Villa Park for the season – thus foregoing his Blues season ticket for the first time in fifteen years!

Well, you know which way that went.  At the back of my mind, despite my Dad’s confidence, I knew I’d spare him actually giving up his season ticket, so I was relieved when Obafemi Martins scored that ridiculous goal, that instead of drilling the misery home too much, when he finally came down from cloud nine, and phoned me (still gobsmacked in front of Sky HD) my Dad told me he’d let me off the bet…on one condition…that I write an article for the Blues programme.  I said they probably wouldn’t be interested, but that (no offence meant) I could probably get a Blog published on a Blues website.  He agreed, and you’d think therein lies my reason for writing here.  Which it does…but not entirely.

You see, I don’t know when I’m beaten.  Have a guess who my favourite player was?  Craig Gardner.  Local lad, so I was absolutely gutted when he turned out to be a Bluenose.  I know some fans think he did a ‘Judas’ or something, but a mate of mine knows his brother, who confirmed he’s Blue through and through, and only suggested he was a Villa fan in light of the fact it was the only club he’d ever played for.  Why not ally yourself to the fans who pay your wages?  Well, needless to say I got a shedload of stick when Gardner arrived at Saint Andrews, and so things have been a bit tense in my neck of the woods, when it comes to ‘defectors’ as I like to call them.  Agents Ridgewell and Phillips, aren’t they?  Well, I was on holiday in Balagne, Corsica, with the missus, who isn’t a football fan at all, I hasten to add, but still lovely (she might read this you know!).

I’ll save you the suspense of a ‘guess who was there’, and let you know it was none other than Alex McLeish, the ginger whinger.  I didn’t have the pleasure of speaking to him at all, being Blues boss didn’t make me crave his autograph, though my missus said I should get it for my Dad.  Anyway, I was on the blower to him the one night, telling him about some business stuff (won’t bore you with the details, I work in finance) when he told me Randy Lerner’s boat had been spotted off the coast of Corsica (no, I didn’t see it there, before you ask), and I – like anyone else in my position – told him to fornicate away, or words to that effect.  He laughed, cos he obviously (!?) knew it was some wind-up, but said he reckoned Villa were in for McLeish.  We’d had little joy prising the likes of Avram Grant (according to rumours), Martinez (confirmed), allegedly turned McClaren down (before even meeting him?) and couldn’t persuade Sparky Hughes to come (God I’d have loved him to manage the Villa!) or the less likely figures of Flores or Rijkaard, so my dad said he was the logical choice, what with Blues having been relegated and not having a pot to pee in (again no offence intended).

Laugh?  I nearly made a new lake in Corsica called Vinos Urinos, or something!  In fact, I went as far to offer my Dad a kind of “double or quits”.   Why didn’t I learn from all those Battleships beatings, Monopoly maulings?

Me (the idiot) “I’m so confident Aston Villa wouldn’t employ Alex McLeish, I’d happily buy a Birmingham City season ticket with you if they did.”

Dad (surely with insider knowledge): “Great.  I’ll see you at Saint Andrews for my renewal, then!”

Me: “Wait a minute, if I’ve got so much as stake, and if you’re so sure, what do I get if you’re wrong?”

Dad (pausing): “Well, obviously you don’t need to write for that programme anymore (when will he get with the times? “Blog, Dad!”), and I’ll head to Villa Park with my brother again, like we did when we were kids…”

How could I refuse?  It was a cast iron bet, and I was so cocksure of myself, I said there was (and I quote) “no way you’re backing out of it, like I did.  This bet is for keeps!”  Interestingly he accepted, I think he must have done a deal with Beelzebub himself,  or something?

The scenes that subsequently unfolded will haunt me forever, I wasn’t one of the hundreds bearing banners at Villa Park (will they REALLY burn all their merchandise, now?) but I really felt for a brief time that fan power would win out.  Not too many had voiced concern over McClaren, but the Board had spoken out in support of our feelings, and sent him packing.  Great.  More of us opposed McLeish’  appointment, so there was NO WAY he would be our manager.  I don’t live too far from Bodymoor Heath, where we have our training ground, but it wasn’t me who daubed the walls with a slogan, honest, but – while I don’t agree with the criminal damage as it were, I was even more convinced our feelings wouldn’t go unheard.

And yet here I am.  So why did I still have to do the Blues Blog?  Surely the Season Ticket was punishment enough?  Well, it was that boy Craig that did it for me.  It thought McLeish, Premiership football and Gary Gardner would be sufficient to lure him back to Villa Park, so I rather stupidly offered – gratis – to write a blog in advance of this season, and ‘some blogs (I didn’t say for every match) during the season at Saint Andrews (I’m not going to any away or Cup matches), if he didn’t come.  I’d read it in the paper that CG had been ‘bigging up’ his time at Villa Park, and talking about the need to look after his family.  I put one and one to make twelve.  And here I am.

A Villa Defector, but for one season only.  Please publish this or my Dad won’t stop nagging me to write to ‘Blues News’ or whatever it’s called.  Gaz, Mike, sorry I can’t be sat with you this season!

If you like, I’ll try to send the odd match report.  Thought it may be useful to see it through someone else’s eyes, so to speak.

Aron