Filbert Fox has become a Cash Cow
Today, Mark Hardy wonders whether a free Chang or a carton of water is the best a top-level football club can do for the local community at Christmas.
A few nights back I found myself mindlessly watching the BBC Sports Personality of the Year Award whilst simultaneously wrapping presents and half focusing on half a dozen other tasks at the same time.
My attention was caught by a speech given by the winner of the Coach of the Year award, Matt Peet of the Wigan Warriors.
He spoke passionately about the way in which their club, and Rugby League as a whole, are always focusing on the community, highlighting that they are always looking for ways in which they can support the local area rather than seeking ways to take more of their hard-earned money.
It then struck me just how far top-flight football - and by extension Leicester City - has moved away from that model.
One could perhaps make the argument that the location of Rugby League clubs helps it stay in touch with its socialist roots, given its largely north/north-west connections. However, that would be to flat out ignore the fact that three of the biggest football clubs in the country (if you were to include Manchester City in that bracket) are based slap bang in the middle of that heartland.
That’s without including clubs like Nottingham Forest and Newcastle United, whose respective cities were hubs for mining communities and have strong working-class roots as well.
However, unlike top-level football, rugby league has an enduring connection to its community and fans that remains deeply rooted in its culture and values, a bond that often feels more authentic and personal compared to the broader commercialised world of the Premier League.
Where the Premier League has grown into a global spectacle, often detached from the everyday lives of the people who once formed the heart of the sport, rugby league continues to be a sport of and for the people, grounded in local pride and social ties.
At its core, rugby league thrives in communities where the game is much more than just a sport; it's a part of the identity, a shared experience passed down through generations. Fans know their players, not just by their stats or Instagram followings, but through the ties that bind them to the very streets, clubs, and schools that nurture them. Players are seen as local heroes, individuals who come from the same background and represent the same values as the fans in the stands.
It’s a sport that thrives on authenticity, where you might find a former player coaching kids at a community centre or a supporter chatting to a team member at a local pub after a match.
In contrast, the Premier League, for all its excitement and spectacle, has become a behemoth of commercialisation and financial interests. While the sport in England still enjoys massive popularity, the players often seem more like distant celebrities than relatable figures.
The influx of foreign ownership, the soaring transfer fees, and the relentless marketing strategies have led to a situation where many fans feel disconnected from the game they once adored. The emotional and local ties that once existed between a club and its supporters have increasingly been overshadowed by corporate priorities, leaving fans to feel like mere customers in a global enterprise.
This week alone my father has been told that he can no longer park in one of the allocated disabled spaces adjacent to the King Power Stadium, as Leicester are looking to introduce yet another fan park – as the march towards a hybrid football club cum theme park gathers yet more momentum.
I hold my breath that the new fan park may be something for the community – maybe Leicester’s leadership has finally taken notice of what’s happening elsewhere in Europe and are returning the club to the fans, or, almost certainly, it’ll be another cash cow to be milked dry by the club.
Rugby league’s commitment to grassroots engagement contrasts sharply with the Premier League’s focus on maximising profit. In many towns and cities, rugby league clubs are the beating heart of the community. They act as a lifeline for local pride, with supporters often gathering in stadiums that feel more like an extension of their own homes. Clubs remain involved in local charity events, youth development programs, and social initiatives that genuinely give back to the community.
This deep connection to local life ensures that rugby league remains not only a sport but a source of collective identity, one that Premier League football often struggles to replicate in the face of international expansion and commercialisation.
What rugby league offers is a sense of ownership, where fans feel like they are part of something special, something that reflects their own stories and struggles. It’s a stark contrast to the Premier League, where the sheer scale and distance of the operation can leave supporters feeling like spectators rather than stakeholders in the story of their own team.
One hope that when football finally eats itself, rugby league can act as a guide for the future of modern football.
