A little story.
A few years ago, at the League Cup final against the Arse. There was a lad sat next to me with his dad. Must have been a City fan, at least his dad certainly was. Well, you remember how we played. What was gobsmacking for me was that he barely reacted to any of our goals, or at the final whistle. And here's me, into my sixties by then, sacrificing the dignity that behoves my years and doing my nut.
I believe — but it will take many generations to decide whether my hunch is merely that — that the world as it is experienced is being radically changed — and for ever — especially for young people, by the fact of living so much of it through a screen. This lad was pretty much like a zombie. It was as if he didn't quite realise that this wasn't some computer game that he was watching/playing, but the real thing, unfolding in his living breathing presence.
I've often thought about it. Had a very similar experience a season or so later in the F.A. Cup tie against Burnley at the Etihad, where we played them off the park, if you remember. Lad next to me — might as well have been lobotomised.
I think there's some connection, behaviourally, with being at a really big rock gig and spending most of it with your mobile phone held up to record. As if it will only become real to you when you watch the recorded version back.
I feel genuinely sad for them. We were passionate about so many things. Stupidly so, sometimes. Naively so, probably. But we had it.