Pick of the plops: The top five crap chants

There’s been talk of a rift in The Shed; where groups of chantists bear an animosity towards each other and refuse to sing each others’ songs. I’m not so sure about it. There maybe something in it, but give me pockets of singers over the thousands who refuse to sing—for whatever reason—any day of the week. Perhaps some chantists are too creative for the longevity of their creations. It seems some people won’t get involved in a song unless it’s well established or has been given the Stretford End seal of approval. This is a shame because like the small core of Manchester United supporters who have penchant for creating new and witty songs, there is a core of Salford fans that are willing to be different—to be the vocal creatives of rugby league.

I’ve never been able to grasp why some supporters don’t sing at their church, just as religious folks sing their hymns and prayers in their chosen place of worship. Players past and present have extolled the virtues of The Shed when it’s rocking. If chanting is of benefit, then let the music play on, play on… Now some people reserve their right not to sing; they come to The Willows to watch the rugby league, not to take part in a sideshow of tribal machismo. They are the non-believers—the anti-chantists. These people must be persuaded to conform to chantism, but first, we must abolish the chants that rub some peoples’ backs up. Even some chantists refuse to sing every song, on the grounds of their choosing, whether it be due to its counter-productive nature or the shear ludicrosness of it. Perhaps some chants, and the singing of them, stop a number of people joining in the merriment. Let’s get rid of these blasphemous songs:

5. ‘There’s Only One...’

In the 1970s, when Derbyshire’s cricket fans chanted for their famed Indian maestro of spin, I have no qualms against their claim that there was only one Srinivasaraghavan Venkataraghavan. Just as in rugby league circles, there’ll probably be only one Royston Lightning, and one Marcus Vassilokopolous [sp]. Yet the point of the song is less to do with the name of the player being eulogised, but more to do with the outstanding talent of said individual. The chant is, however, the epitome of mediocrity and slack songsmithing.

There is only one Phil Taylor. There is only one Keith Deller. There is only one Ricky Hatton. There is only one Frank Bruno. There is only one Andy Farrell. There is only one Andy Farrell. There seems to be no scale of quality. The song is used as much with the wheat as it is with the chaff. And in many cases, it is assigned to a player because the faithful either couldn’t be bothered to come up with something decent or didn’t have much of affinity with them, despite realising the player was very good. ‘There’s only one David Beckham’— as sung at Old Trafford—is representative of the latter.

If I haven’t yet convinced you, surely the following will. In the 1980s, Salford granted one of their stalwarts a testimonial. I have the programme from his testimonial game and on the front it reads: there’s only one David Major. Case closed.

4. ‘The Referee’s A Wanker’

There are three things in life that are certain: one, we are always growing older; two, Rich Tea biscuits will always break when dunked in a cuppa; and three, referees will always be wankers. Referees know this; they laugh in the face of it. Ian Smith said as much in last week’s Fans Forum (for Paul Highton’s Testimonial). The singing of it will never sway bias; it can never influence a decision like a thousand people shouting ‘forward!’ can. Ergo, it’s a pointless chant.

A much better alternative is ‘All We Want Is A Decent Referee’. The only problem is that it lacks punch, and is based on a tune sung by one of the true odious scousers—one who loves Liverpool so much that he chooses not to live there. Sadly, we lost one of the classic old school chants when referees decided to wear garish colours that wouldn’t look out of place at a happy hardcore rave. The one thing that does get referees backs up, however, is by calling them a cheat. Remember when footballer Tony Adams called ref David Ellery a cheat? Ellery reacted like Adolf Hitler with a back spasm. Mind you, I can image if you called Karl Kirkpatrick a cheat, you’d be on the end of severely biased penalty count.

3. Chelsea Dagger ‘der-der-ders’

The Fratellis’ ‘Chelsea Dagger’ has replaced The Piranhas’ ‘Tom Hark’, which itself replaced Madness’ ‘One Step Beyond’ as post-try/post-goal song de rigueur. This song has spread like an ebola virus: turning respectable rugby and football fans into spazzy dancing freaks—its effects are unavoidable. The problem with ‘Chelsea Dagger’ is that, more than any of its predecessors, it’s played everywhere; at virtually every football league ground and virtually every RL ground after a score. It has become so passé. Not only that—it represents everything loathsome about the supporter courted by the marketeers: the face painted, jester hat wearing, horn tooting adult flake. They dance when told told to dance, sing when told to sing, parp when told to parp, clap when told to clap. It’s all a part of a masterplan. Sounds more like fascism to me. I wonder if Mussolini played The Fratellis to his minions after a particularly rousing speech?

2. The chanting of any anti-opposition song after conceeding a try

Indeed, we all hate Leeds scum and it’s a well known fact that Warrington is wanky. The terrace shouldn’t be sanitised from proclaiming these prophecies. Chants berating oppostion fans are as much a part of terrace culture as the half-time pie and pint, Adidas Gazelles and the notorious ‘hot leg’. But there’s a right time to do it and a wrong time. I don’t know when the right time is, to be frank, I don’t care. Go with the flow. The wrong time, however, is when Salford have just conceeded a try. Doing so is a bad attempt at trying to mask a wound—it is a sign of weakness. At this moment, The Shed should be in unison to lift the boys in red. ‘Come On Salford’, ‘Sing Up If You Love Salford’, ‘Sing Your Hearts For The Lads’ and so on. At this moment, sod the other fans and get behind your own.

1. ‘The Leeds Rhinos’

I haven’t gone mad, I was non compus mentis to start with. As you’ll no doubt gather, this isn’t a chant we sing. It is, however, the most annoying song in sport. Pushing their Leeds United produced ‘Marching On Together’ into a close second. The most disappointing occurence to date during thrity years of professional RL in London is the adoption of said tune by Harlequins fans. I sincerely hope it is either missed irony on my part or a wind up. You can safely say that if a Salford-based chant to this tune ever rears its ugly head, I will join the ranks of the anti-chantism.