Smith hails York City centre partnership (From York Press)

Clarke has become a big asset at the Club and formed a good partnership with Smithy, Clean sheets are vital to gain points but they have to maintain their form as there is competition waiting in the wings which can only be good.It's too easy to make mistakes at the back which end up costing goals whereas mistakes up front often go unnoticed as they cost nothing usually.
Keep up the good work and let's have a clean sheet v AFC Wimbledon.

From Yahoo-
On Sunday night, after the Premier League's weekly Carnival of Hate, I watched the X-Factor results.

The sing-off featured an identikit boy-band called Union J, who wept, wailed and displayed the kind of faces usually reserved for discovering your entire family has been devoured by a flesh-eating virus. They looked like right chumps.

Their opponent was a young mum named Jade Ellis, who smiled, took criticism with good grace and retained her composure. She appeared to have a proper idea of the competition's importance.

Faced with that rare beast - a reality TV contestant with a sense of perspective - the judges predictably booted her out and handed a reprieve to the gibbering Harry Styles clones.

Gary Barlow's assessment of Jade was: "I worry I want this for you more than you do." Translation: "You're not crying enough."

X-Factor may not be much of a singing competition, but as a barometer for where we are as a nation, it has its uses.

Here was proof: enjoying yourself is out. You cannot 'care' with a smile on your face. You have to be miserable and aggrieved.

I mention this because it seems to tally with the predicament in which English football finds itself.

Fans pride themselves on some nebulous quality called 'passion' - but what does this really mean?

Increasingly it means howling obscenities at the opposition, the ref, even your own team.

It means defending the indefensible when one of your players misbehaves, and feigning outrage when a rival steps out of line.

It means railing at perceived injustice week after week, while never acknowledging when your team gets the rub of the green.

It means spending thousands of pounds a year for the right to be indescribably angry for two hours every week.

If you're not deeply unhappy, you just don't care enough.

Passion or poison? We saw at Stamford Bridge on Sunday when Chelsea played Manchester United.

An extraordinary incident encapsulated this, when a steward was thrown from the crowd on to the side of the pitch.

Chelsea had just conceded an offside goal, and so incandescent was the rage that the crowd turned into a wave of pure fury, strong enough to spew men in flourescent tabards on to the pitch.

The 1980s, and Hillsborough in particular, showed the danger of dehumanising football crowds - of forgetting they are individuals and treating them like one great, malign organism.

Yet when you look at fans' behaviour - not only at Stamford Bridge but across the country - you don't want to believe these people have anything to do with you.

How can our species be capable of such spite and malice over something - a game! - that fundamentally doesn't matter?

A supposedly entertaining diversion from life's drudgery has become the focal point for all our frustration and hatred.

Fans are motivated only by negativity. The desire to see rivals suffer has overtaken the wish for our own team to do well.

We can see this in the Everton supporters who chose to 'celebrate' their team's equaliser on Sunday by goading Liverpool fans.

And how about the trailer Sky ran at the start of the season, in which a Chelsea fan describes the moment his team won the Champions League?

He revels in describing thousands of Chelsea followers singing: "Are you watching White Hart Lane?"

Their team has just won the Champions League, and all they can think about is mocking Tottenham.

And this is a trailer, for pity's sake. So pervasive has the culture of spite become that Sky uses it to promote its coverage.

It's like crowds at the Olympic Velodrome ignoring British golds and chanting: "Are you watching Eiffel Tower?"

The cancer of nastiness, it is alleged, has now spread to the man in black.

If accusations against Mark Clattenburg are to be believed - and he is set to deny them formally - the refs have now gone a step further. They are allegedly behaving like players and joining in the name-calling.

Counter-claims in today's papers allege that Chelsea employees joined in the fun by storming Clattenburg's dressing room, where a threat to break his legs was apparently heard.

I grew up when referees were schoolmasters, metaphorically and literally, in the shape of the imperious David Elleray.

Now one of them stands accused of exchanging extreme unpleasantries with the people he is meant to control.

In the immortal words of Richard Keys: "The game's gone mad."

All hope is not lost. Some level heads remain - though not enough. Men like David Moyes, who deadened the burgeoning controversy over Luis Suarez's diving goal celebration stone dead by declaring: "I actually quite liked that."

And isn't he right? Man scores goal, has a light-hearted pop at his critics. Isn't that the sort of thing we used to enjoy?

Juergen Klinsmann's original dive, Gazza's dentist's chair - even Craig Bellamy's golf swing? I distinctly remember thinking all of these were pretty funny.

But in today's game, a sense of humour is a sign of weakness. We have to take offence at everything, and use it as a weapon against our enemies.

This is premiership football in 2012.

This is why we all support York City!
A true football club. True fans who applaud opposition supporters.Players who care but don't hate. Management with true passion for the game. Smiles on faces - win, lose or draw. A club going places the right way.

Some excellent points there, Sir Alex. Your comments reminded me of some of the more unpleasant things that happened last year in the Conference. In particular, a couple of managers who showed a quite nasty, aggressive attitude towards match officials and opposing managers/ players/ staff, bordering on thuggery.
They justified it by claiming 'I was just showing passion - what's wrong with that?'
The obvious implication is that anyone who shows dignity, decorum and a sense of fair play is incapable of being passionate. This is grossly insulting to managers such as Gary Mills. We are very lucky to have him leading our wonderful club and long may it continue.

Brilliant Sir Alex. Doesn't need adding to!

Sir Alex wrote:
From Yahoo- On Sunday night, after the Premier League's weekly Carnival of Hate, I watched the X-Factor results. The sing-off featured an identikit boy-band called Union J, who wept, wailed and displayed the kind of faces usually reserved for discovering your entire family has been devoured by a flesh-eating virus. They looked like right chumps. Their opponent was a young mum named Jade Ellis, who smiled, took criticism with good grace and retained her composure. She appeared to have a proper idea of the competition's importance. Faced with that rare beast - a reality TV contestant with a sense of perspective - the judges predictably booted her out and handed a reprieve to the gibbering Harry Styles clones. Gary Barlow's assessment of Jade was: "I worry I want this for you more than you do." Translation: "You're not crying enough." X-Factor may not be much of a singing competition, but as a barometer for where we are as a nation, it has its uses. Here was proof: enjoying yourself is out. You cannot 'care' with a smile on your face. You have to be miserable and aggrieved. I mention this because it seems to tally with the predicament in which English football finds itself. Fans pride themselves on some nebulous quality called 'passion' - but what does this really mean? Increasingly it means howling obscenities at the opposition, the ref, even your own team. It means defending the indefensible when one of your players misbehaves, and feigning outrage when a rival steps out of line. It means railing at perceived injustice week after week, while never acknowledging when your team gets the rub of the green. It means spending thousands of pounds a year for the right to be indescribably angry for two hours every week. If you're not deeply unhappy, you just don't care enough. Passion or poison? We saw at Stamford Bridge on Sunday when Chelsea played Manchester United. An extraordinary incident encapsulated this, when a steward was thrown from the crowd on to the side of the pitch. Chelsea had just conceded an offside goal, and so incandescent was the rage that the crowd turned into a wave of pure fury, strong enough to spew men in flourescent tabards on to the pitch. The 1980s, and Hillsborough in particular, showed the danger of dehumanising football crowds - of forgetting they are individuals and treating them like one great, malign organism. Yet when you look at fans' behaviour - not only at Stamford Bridge but across the country - you don't want to believe these people have anything to do with you. How can our species be capable of such spite and malice over something - a game! - that fundamentally doesn't matter? A supposedly entertaining diversion from life's drudgery has become the focal point for all our frustration and hatred. Fans are motivated only by negativity. The desire to see rivals suffer has overtaken the wish for our own team to do well. We can see this in the Everton supporters who chose to 'celebrate' their team's equaliser on Sunday by goading Liverpool fans. And how about the trailer Sky ran at the start of the season, in which a Chelsea fan describes the moment his team won the Champions League? He revels in describing thousands of Chelsea followers singing: "Are you watching White Hart Lane?" Their team has just won the Champions League, and all they can think about is mocking Tottenham. And this is a trailer, for pity's sake. So pervasive has the culture of spite become that Sky uses it to promote its coverage. It's like crowds at the Olympic Velodrome ignoring British golds and chanting: "Are you watching Eiffel Tower?" The cancer of nastiness, it is alleged, has now spread to the man in black. If accusations against Mark Clattenburg are to be believed - and he is set to deny them formally - the refs have now gone a step further. They are allegedly behaving like players and joining in the name-calling. Counter-claims in today's papers allege that Chelsea employees joined in the fun by storming Clattenburg's dressing room, where a threat to break his legs was apparently heard. I grew up when referees were schoolmasters, metaphorically and literally, in the shape of the imperious David Elleray. Now one of them stands accused of exchanging extreme unpleasantries with the people he is meant to control. In the immortal words of Richard Keys: "The game's gone mad." All hope is not lost. Some level heads remain - though not enough. Men like David Moyes, who deadened the burgeoning controversy over Luis Suarez's diving goal celebration stone dead by declaring: "I actually quite liked that." And isn't he right? Man scores goal, has a light-hearted pop at his critics. Isn't that the sort of thing we used to enjoy? Juergen Klinsmann's original dive, Gazza's dentist's chair - even Craig Bellamy's golf swing? I distinctly remember thinking all of these were pretty funny. But in today's game, a sense of humour is a sign of weakness. We have to take offence at everything, and use it as a weapon against our enemies. This is premiership football in 2012. This is why we all support York City! A true football club. True fans who applaud opposition supporters.Players who care but don't hate. Management with true passion for the game. Smiles on faces - win, lose or draw. A club going places the right way.

For me the number one posting of the year. 100% spot on.

Sir Alex wrote:
From Yahoo-
On Sunday night, after the Premier League's weekly Carnival of Hate, I watched the X-Factor results.

The sing-off featured an identikit boy-band called Union J, who wept, wailed and displayed the kind of faces usually reserved for discovering your entire family has been devoured by a flesh-eating virus. They looked like right chumps.

Their opponent was a young mum named Jade Ellis, who smiled, took criticism with good grace and retained her composure. She appeared to have a proper idea of the competition's importance.

Faced with that rare beast - a reality TV contestant with a sense of perspective - the judges predictably booted her out and handed a reprieve to the gibbering Harry Styles clones.

Gary Barlow's assessment of Jade was: "I worry I want this for you more than you do." Translation: "You're not crying enough."

X-Factor may not be much of a singing competition, but as a barometer for where we are as a nation, it has its uses.

Here was proof: enjoying yourself is out. You cannot 'care' with a smile on your face. You have to be miserable and aggrieved.

I mention this because it seems to tally with the predicament in which English football finds itself.

Fans pride themselves on some nebulous quality called 'passion' - but what does this really mean?

Increasingly it means howling obscenities at the opposition, the ref, even your own team.

It means defending the indefensible when one of your players misbehaves, and feigning outrage when a rival steps out of line.

It means railing at perceived injustice week after week, while never acknowledging when your team gets the rub of the green.

It means spending thousands of pounds a year for the right to be indescribably angry for two hours every week.

If you're not deeply unhappy, you just don't care enough.

Passion or poison? We saw at Stamford Bridge on Sunday when Chelsea played Manchester United.

An extraordinary incident encapsulated this, when a steward was thrown from the crowd on to the side of the pitch.

Chelsea had just conceded an offside goal, and so incandescent was the rage that the crowd turned into a wave of pure fury, strong enough to spew men in flourescent tabards on to the pitch.

The 1980s, and Hillsborough in particular, showed the danger of dehumanising football crowds - of forgetting they are individuals and treating them like one great, malign organism.

Yet when you look at fans' behaviour - not only at Stamford Bridge but across the country - you don't want to believe these people have anything to do with you.

How can our species be capable of such spite and malice over something - a game! - that fundamentally doesn't matter?

A supposedly entertaining diversion from life's drudgery has become the focal point for all our frustration and hatred.

Fans are motivated only by negativity. The desire to see rivals suffer has overtaken the wish for our own team to do well.

We can see this in the Everton supporters who chose to 'celebrate' their team's equaliser on Sunday by goading Liverpool fans.

And how about the trailer Sky ran at the start of the season, in which a Chelsea fan describes the moment his team won the Champions League?

He revels in describing thousands of Chelsea followers singing: "Are you watching White Hart Lane?"

Their team has just won the Champions League, and all they can think about is mocking Tottenham.

And this is a trailer, for pity's sake. So pervasive has the culture of spite become that Sky uses it to promote its coverage.

It's like crowds at the Olympic Velodrome ignoring British golds and chanting: "Are you watching Eiffel Tower?"

The cancer of nastiness, it is alleged, has now spread to the man in black.

If accusations against Mark Clattenburg are to be believed - and he is set to deny them formally - the refs have now gone a step further. They are allegedly behaving like players and joining in the name-calling.

Counter-claims in today's papers allege that Chelsea employees joined in the fun by storming Clattenburg's dressing room, where a threat to break his legs was apparently heard.

I grew up when referees were schoolmasters, metaphorically and literally, in the shape of the imperious David Elleray.

Now one of them stands accused of exchanging extreme unpleasantries with the people he is meant to control.

In the immortal words of Richard Keys: "The game's gone mad."

All hope is not lost. Some level heads remain - though not enough. Men like David Moyes, who deadened the burgeoning controversy over Luis Suarez's diving goal celebration stone dead by declaring: "I actually quite liked that."

And isn't he right? Man scores goal, has a light-hearted pop at his critics. Isn't that the sort of thing we used to enjoy?

Juergen Klinsmann's original dive, Gazza's dentist's chair - even Craig Bellamy's golf swing? I distinctly remember thinking all of these were pretty funny.

But in today's game, a sense of humour is a sign of weakness. We have to take offence at everything, and use it as a weapon against our enemies.

This is premiership football in 2012.

This is why we all support York City!
A true football club. True fans who applaud opposition supporters.Players who care but don't hate. Management with true passion for the game. Smiles on faces - win, lose or draw. A club going places the right way.

Yes, an excellent thoughtful comment.

One point; you're not a lawyer are you? I would imagine you could deliver some excellent closing comments which would guarantee either nailing, or ensuring freedom for, anyone in the dock.

Re Sir Alex's posting - excellent points well made. I would, however, suggest that not everything is doom and gloom when comparisons are made with the past. For example, the racism that was commonplace on the terraces in the 1970's and 80's is pretty much a thing of the past (in this country). The amount of violence, both inside and outside grounds, is signifincatly lower than it was in the aforementioned periods. I agree with the points you make, but, as you point out, in the conduct of many of our fans, and the progress that has been made in significant areas, there is hope that things can improve.

Can you just repeat what you said Sir Alex?:-/

I have today been having a conversation with a colleague who was at the Leeds v Southampton game last night. He is a Leeds season ticket holder and last night sat close to the two dugout's. His report of the things that he heard from the two management teams beggars belief. Insults, threats, accusations of incompetence towards both linesmen and referee and in Mr Warnock's case an outburst against one of his OWN player's that beggars belief. The only thing that surprises me about modern football is that there are still people prepared to do the job of officiating, because without them there would be no game and no outlet for the pent up anger of these idiots and I am sure without such an outlet some managers/ccoaches would end up in serious trouble. So, yes, you can keep your so called best league in the world and give me little old YORK CITY a thoroughly decent club, run by thoroughly decent people, and from speaking to opposition fans home and away a club that is much admired in the football world. COME ON CITY

A very interesting and well reasoned argument posted by 'Sir Alex', but I wouldn't say shouting venomous things at the opposition fans/ team/ officials is so terrible. Within reason obviously, racism and such like are totally unacceptable, but what's wrong with blowing some steam shouting your head off at an inept ref or a cheating opponant? I thought that was half the reason for going to football matches! That said, whilst I think it's fine for fans to scream their heads off during a game if they want to, the players and staff should probably set a better example and keep a lid on it. And I also do like that (most of the time) we can take a step back from the frustrations of the game and applaud the opposition fans for making the trip to York, like Sir Alex said.

Well done Sir Alex, great post! I've been watching football at all levels for 45 years and have completely given up on the Premiership, because it's lost sight of football being a sport based on supporting your local club as part of a community. York City retains these values and long may it continue, a decent club run by decent people. Yes, the usual if not universal comraderie between fans at the League Two/Conference level is entirely gratifying. GM has his feet on the ground, even though he reached great heights as a player. Fortunately he learned a lot from his mentor. I want York to be successful but only so long as the club retains its soul and its integrity. Long may it do so, even into the post BC-era - hopefully with a stadium capacity of 9,000 and average crowds reaching two thirds of that. The problem with a bigger stadium is if gates stick at only around 4,000. We need to be realistic about our prospects....I reckon 9,000 could be okay though. Nowadays we're competing with the ludicrous level of satellite coverage of the Premiership nonsense. That threatens the lifeblood of clubs like York, kids who'd rather feign 'support' for the odious Chelsea or Man Utd through a shirt and a bedspread than get to watch their local team. Of course, it's their Dads who are to blame....bring the kids to see York!! It's PROPER FOOTBALL!!!!

well said peppa,my boy had a worrying but thankfully brief period of considering himself a York city and manchester united supporter when he was about 8 or 9.hes taken some stick for it from notably leeds fans(so called fans anyway) but always been proud of his club York city,(ive always thought the Yorkie baby grow had a profound effect ha).his general retort being your not a football supporter i actually go support my team.