Pack up the euphoniums, lay down the drumsticks, put away the trumpets. If they thought the Premier League would last for ever they were wrong. There is always something slightly mournful about the pre-kick off playing of When the Saints Going Marching in and perhaps never more so than on Sunday with the brass band hinting it could be one of the causalities of the cost-cutting that will inevitably follow relegation. The chaotically defiant, entirely unfunereal, performance that followed does not change that.
That is the sad truth when a team goes down. The players, the first‑team coaches and the directors will, by and large, be fine. Fans may weep, but for all the self-pity of a subset of modern support, most will be back next season, happy enough at a day out with family or friends, whoever the opposition. The people who suffer are those in less visible roles, the academy coaches, the analysts, the catering staff and – perhaps – the brass band. That’s where the cuts fall and where they are felt.
