Millwall and Leeds United: A Depressing Familiarity

The depressing predictability of trouble at Millwall versus Leeds United has consequences. Both clubs are trapped by a self-defeating mentality, but the financial costs are becoming harder to ignore.

Just 13,228 people were at the New Den for Millwall’s play-off fixture against Leeds United on Saturday. For a match of this magnitude, in a stadium with a capacity of 20,146, the number is a stark one. The club’s owners might well wonder how many potential supporters were put off by the baggage that this particular fixture always seems to carry with it.

Predictably, there was trouble. The build-up on social networking sites and message boards spilled over into posturing and thrown objects at the ground, accompanied by the usual vile songs. For their part, Leeds supporters sang about Neil Harris’s testicles.

The Mantra of Condemnation

In the aftermath, Millwall’s response was as familiar as the trouble itself. The club repeated its mantra that anyone arrested will be banned for life. This is the same statement that has followed such incidents for the last fifteen years, a period during which very little seems to have changed. While the club has made institutional efforts to alter its public perception, the cycle of violence and hollow condemnation continues. It raises the question of whether these statements are for public consumption or a genuine reflection of a desire for change.

At the other end, Leeds United’s ownership has actively cultivated the very mentality that fuels these situations. Ken Bates has revelled in the bunker mentality, persuading supporters that “no-one likes us” while simultaneously pushing up ticket prices to become the most expensive in the Championship. It is a unique approach, fleecing the club’s own fanbase while encouraging the antagonistic outlook that makes fixtures like Saturday’s so volatile.

A Shared Identity

The irony is that both sets of supporters have more in common than they would ever care to admit. The defining ethos for both is perfectly captured by the old Millwall song: “no-one likes us, we don’t care”. The first part is a self-fulfilling prophecy, something supporters could address if they chose to. The second part, “we don’t care”, shows they have no intention of doing so.

This shared identity of defiance and victimhood is a powerful, if ultimately destructive, force. It binds supporters to their clubs but also repels the outsiders and casuals whose money is needed for growth.

Harris had the last laugh on Saturday, scoring the only goal of the game.

Now all eyes turn to the return leg at Elland Road on Thursday night. A crowd of over 38,000 is expected, and perhaps the larger attendance will dissipate some of the venom. Or perhaps not.