Sporting Declaration: Soccer's so-called "active supporters" are suffering delusions of grandeur

It was impossible to miss the Western Sydney Wanderers faithful as they arrived at McDonald Jones Stadium last Sunday.

A few hundred of them, almost exclusively male from what I could ascertain, made their way across the walkway on the northern hill and congregated in their usual bay in the Andrew Johns Stand.

In no time at all they had three blokes down in the front row banging on drums. The rest of them, some shirtless, were wrapped together, armpit to armpit, bouncing up and down, chanting in unison.

Given the humidity and the sun beating down on them, I'd be surprised if you couldn't have smelt the BO in Maitland.

How many of them were actually watching the game is another matter altogether, but each to their own.

As one of the other journalists in the media box explained to me, they were creating some "European-style atmosphere".

At the opposite end of the stadium stood their Newcastle counterparts, once known as the Squadron, but apparently superseded several years ago by the "Terrace Novocastria".

There appeared to be a few dozen of them, at best.

As the noise of the Wanderers mob filtered through the media box's largely soundproofed windows loud and clear, whatever was emanating from the home cheer squad barely registered a blip on the decibel meter, despite the forlorn efforts of some bloke trying to marshal them with a megaphone.

It was all a bit sad, really.

Outnumbered and outperformed in your own backyard.

To make it even more embarrassing, the Western Sydney throng was far smaller than back in their heyday, when they would literally bring thousands up the freeway to cheer on their high-flying team.

Anyway, I wouldn't have given it a second thought until a colleague pointed out a social-media post during the week, in which Terrace Novocastria announced they would "be on hiatus until further notice following the conclusion of our home game against Brisbane Roar [last night]."

Fair enough, I thought. Sometimes waving the white flag is the only logical option.

It was only when I had a closer read of their statement that I gained an insight into the mindset of these so-called "active supporters".

Founded with an ambition to create "an inclusive place for football fans to come together and become part of the match through an engaging visual and vocal presence", they admitted this had been undermined by becoming lethargic, disorganised and apathetic.

To continue in such fashion would "stain the fabric of active-supporter culture".

Then came a paragraph that almost caused me to fall off my chair: "Our group takes responsibility for half of the success and failure of the Newcastle Jets, with the other end upheld by players and staff. We do our job, and they do theirs. Despite our best efforts, we are not doing our job consistently enough to be considered successful."

All is not lost, however. "Our group will continue to aim for a positive impact on sport, fashion, music and lifestyle in Newcastle," the statement continued.

Honestly, you can't make this stuff up.

As I sat there digesting it, I found myself reflecting on the recent game-wide boycotts by "active supporters" - culminating in the horrendous pitch invasion at AAMI Park and spectator assault that left Melbourne City goalkeeper Thomas Glover injured - sparked by the decision to stage the next three A-League grand finals in Sydney.

And I found myself asking one simple question: why do these particular supporters think they are any more important than anyone else who outlays their hard-earned at the turnstiles?

I've attended at least 20 English Premier League games over the years.

Never once have I seen anyone banging a drum. Never once have I seen someone trying to whip the crowd into a frenzy with a megaphone. Never once have I seen a flare ignited.

Yet the atmosphere at those games is amazing. A chant will start spontaneously in one section, and within seconds the entire stadium has joined in.

The fans create the atmosphere, yet they have no delusions of grandeur. They know the stars of the show are all on the other side of the fence.

In Australia, however, there is some weird narrative that these "active supporters" are part of, and integral to, the entertainment.

I've heard people say that's the point of difference between the A-League and our other footballing codes.

What a load of rubbish.

When I attend a sporting event, I'm there to watch the game.

That's the case whether I'm working at McDonald Jones Stadium, or wearing a beanie and scarf at the Emirates and cheering on my beloved Arsenal.

If the "active supporters" want to organise chants and create a bit of vibe, good luck to them. But I can't help wondering how many of them are attention seekers with no great interest in the on-field action.

It's all about them, yet in reality they are no more valuable than the mums and dads who turn up for each game with their kids and renew their season tickets, in good times and bad.

They're the real fans.

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