ABSTRACT
Association football (soccer) is widely referred to as both ‘the beautiful game’ and ‘the people’s game’. These descriptions are potentially at odds. The rst suggests that football is something of an art form to be appreciated in the manner of other arts such as painting, poetry, music and dance. Appreciation of art forms is traditionally believed to involve discernment and the acquirement of specialist knowledge. This has resulted in the arts being framed as ‘high culture’ and regarded as elitist. Reference to ‘the people’s game’ suggests that football is anything but elitist. It suggests that football is culturally democratic, that it can be enjoyed by anyone and everyone. The title of the autobiography by former England international football player Alan Hudson, The Working Man’s Ballet, goes some way to proposing a reconciliation of football as both the beautiful game and the people’s game. Hudson’s title may be taken to suggest that while working-class people are disconnected from more conventional art forms and venues of the arts, such as the art gallery, the opera house and the ballet theatre, they can be fully appreciative of the aesthetic aspects of football play and at home within the venue where their art form is viewed, the football stadium. Yet, while prompting a challenge to the distinction between high and popular art forms, Hudson’s title raises questions about the cultural inclusivity of football. Historically, football has been a male-dominated sport, both for participants and observers. Hudson’s title speaks to this history. But would it be appropriate or, more importantly, correct, given the interest of women in football, to use such a male-focused descriptor for a player biography today? What about football’s relationship to social class? Although not referring directly to workers as a class, the mention of ‘working man’ suggests a nexus between class identity and football. Football undoubtedly holds a particular cultural and historical signi cance for the working class in many countries, but what is the relevance of class-based identity to the sport today? As the ‘people’s game’, certainly in its professional context, is run more and more to the prerogatives of big business and related media interests, has this lessened the meaningfulness of working-class roots to contemporary supporters? And has a middle-class interest in following football developed signi cantly enough to challenge references to the sport as a game primarily of working-class culture?
