In the first of a series of weekly blogs, the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy explores why your match-pie experience may be telling you more than you think…
No matter which way you look at it, it’s a big decision. You know what we’re talking about. Do you leave your seat before the half-time whistle to get first dibs on the selection of hot pies, or endure the additional minute of injury time to praise/berate your team down the tunnel?
People may laugh about the deeper semantics of pie-consumption behavior at football matches, but through hours of pain-staking research, we have found indisputable evidence that the performance of a team directly affects the way fans buy and consume pies.
The broad theory goes like this. If your team is doing well (in both the short and long-term), chance has it that you will be snaffling away (with notable enjoyment) at a layer of puff pastry in the fifteen minute interval.
However, if your team is hovering above the relegation zone and has conceded three goals in the first twenty minutes, the very concept of a pie will become erroneous, and your efforts will be focused on giving your mate an earful.
But some experts are going even further by suggesting that a supporter’s perception of a match-pie is determined by their club’s big picture.
Take for instance Dan Rodger, a committed MK Dons follower. He rates his pies as “big but could be bigger” – perhaps this is a subconscious reflection on the potential of the club? Another example is Brentford fan Benjj, who says his match pies are “never-ending” – a bit like the Bees’ cup runs in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy.
But the evidence doesn’t stop there. There’s a clear link between the style of football a team plays and their supporter’s favourite fillings. The flamboyant antics of Jordan Rhodes have injected a bit of spice into Huddersfield Town’s attacking play, so is it any surprise that life-long follower Sam Corin loves his chicken-balti pies?
Now that you’re enlightened, you might be wondering about that chap who sits a few rows down from you and refuses to buy a match-pie, despite his obvious craving for one.
This chap is a football purist. His actions are a subconscious protest to the rise of the elite in football and nothing – not even the smell of a hot steak and kidney pie – will stand in the way of upholding his principles. Well, not until he’s offered a bite by his 10-year-old son.
So there you have it. The next time your queing for refreshments at half-time, remember the truth behind the pies.