Luxury Football

Watching a fly-on-the-wall documentary about Serie B team Como 1907 recently, something struck me. I watch weird things. While I was coming to terms with my increasingly niche television tastes, another thing struck me. Djarum Group, the Indonesian tobacco and media conglomerate that owns this provincial Italian football club, are openly intent on turning it into a luxury product, like a private jet or central heating. It got me thinking: is there such a thing as a luxury football club?

You can understand the Djarum Group’s logic to a degree. Situated on the shore of Lake Como, one of Europe’s most picturesque bodies of acqua naturale, Como has become a bolthole for the rich and famous: George Clooney, Sting, and Sir Richard Branson have all kept hedge haberdashers and peacock polishers in business there. Surely then, this is a town that’s crying out for a luxury football club? If only it were that simple.

For a lot of fans, gentrification is a four-letter word. And with good reason. When aspirational owners court the rich and famous, their ambition often comes at the expense of the butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers who pump the lifeblood of the club. These fans, loyal to a fault, are often left out in the cold by a new owner’s bourgeois vision. This isn’t to say that your average Joe doesn’t deserve a little luxury in their lives, we’ve all dabbled in a bit of Molton Brown, but when it comes to football there’s a certain down-to-earthness that can’t be swept under the Persian rug.