Millwall are pandering to the fans who want their club to fail in the fight against racism

Millwall’s letter to fans was weak, pathetic and not worthy of a club that has done fine work in the community over the years.

“They want us to fail.” These five words were Millwall’s breathtakingly inappropriate and self-pitying response to their supporters booing anti-racist gestures.

A large proportion of the 2,000 fans in The Den on Saturday expressed their outrage when the teams took the knee before the game against Derby County. Last night everyone who came to the 1-1 draw with Queens Park Rangers was given a flyer that pleaded with those present to respect players who kneeled. It explained: “It is their right to do so.”

It continued: “The eyes of the world are on this football club – your club,” and then came the bombshell. “They” – the shadowy enemies of Millwall – are lining up to take relish in the embarrassment caused by explicit racist behaviour. “Together as one, we will not let that happen.”

The call for unity was framed in a strange way. Come together to confront prejudice? Not quite. Let’s unite to confound the “they” who want us to fail.

Poor me. Poor Millwall. It’s not about bigotry, it’s about us. The whine leapt from the page.

And so the narrative shifts, at least in the minds of those whose conduct created the situation. The message was effective in one way. There was no booing. The pretence that the issue had gone away was maintained. Everyone can go about their business and act as if nothing really happened.

• Millwall fans boo taking of the knee
• QPR take knee after scoring at Millwall

If any proof was needed that the deep, underlying problems of racism are trivialised and only addressed on a superficial level, the Millwall experience of the past four days makes depressing evidence. The handout should have said: “We don’t want bigots. Go support another club or go to hell. You are not welcome here.” Instead it pandered and pretended. It was weak, pathetic and not worthy of a club that has done fine work in the community over the years.

Millwall are a team with a relatively small fanbase but their significance in the English game is massive. They have a prominent place in football culture that means they have a relevance that exceeds their small-club status.

They have always represented a rough, docklands ethos and supporters glory in their hard-man reputation. Violent incidents punctuate their history but a 1977 Panorama documentary elevated the notoriety of their fans to a different level. The programme, called ‘F-Troop, Treatment and the Half-way Line,’ after the three mobs that roamed The Den, introduced such characters as Harry The Dog, Mad Pat and Bobby The Wolf to the wider public. Millwall’s place in hooligan folklore was assured and was entrenched as part of the culture of the club. The BBC set the tone early when the narrator suggested: “Millwall is more than a football club, it’s a way of life. It offers comradeship, excitement and glory. The glory comes not from the team but from the reputation of its supporters.”

QPR players take the knee after scoring (Getty)

The irony is that, like last night’s letter, the documentary was a self-inflicted wound. The BBC approached a number of teams and only Millwall agreed to become involved in the filming. They became the poster-boys for terrace violence, an identity cemented to such a degree that more than three decades later Millwall’s mob were the bad guys in the risible hooligan movie Green Street. It is possible that, had they turned down the BBC’s overtures, Millwall could now be seen in a very different light.

There will be plenty who deny it, but a large section of the club’s support embrace the notoriety. Booing anti-racist gestures is entirely in character for many regulars at The Den.

They sing: “No one likes us, we don’t care.” A distorted version of working-class pride has grown in south-east London that appeals to boneheaded contrarians like Rod Liddle. Kelvin MacKenzie, an enemy of football, liked to bask in the reflected toughness during his heyday at The Sun.

Racism is nothing new at Millwall. Back in 1977, one fan spoke of an “Asian family, just off the Banana Boat,” being placed in an expensive hotel. More than four decades on, the racism is slightly more sophisticated. Claims that the antipathy towards the kneeling players is a reaction to the “cultural Marxism” that has been associated with a section of the Black Lives Matter movement is as laughable as the myths of immigrants pouring into the country to gorge on the benefits system.

It is worth noting, however, that at least one black youth was featured in Panorama and when Millwall caused havoc at Luton in 1985 a handful of black faces can be seen among the rioters. The Den has never been as universally white as some imagine.

Last night was a chance for the club to make a real statement and draw red lines about what is and isn’t acceptable inside the stadium. Instead, the letter suggested that Millwall and their fans are victims. The message from the boardroom was clear: it was crucial that “they” should not be provided with any more ammunition.

That is understandable to a point. Because of their heritage, everything Millwall supporters do is amplified in a negative manner. That history places a huge onus on the club.

The problem is that the letter sent out a mixed message. It whispered “no one likes us” into the ear of the worst elements instead of unequivocally confronting prejudice. Whenever bigots are allowed to wriggle off the hook they gain more ground. The booing on Saturday was despicable, the response last night appalling. The paranoia is unseemly and deflects from the most important issue.  

The battle is bigger than any individual team. Only racists want Millwall to fail in the fight against racism.