Kissing the badge is one of the most hideous clichés of modern football. But that doesn’t stop players puckering up and planting a smacker on the crest in desperate displays of cloying insincerity.
Obviously, you have to be terminally stupid not to realise the striker drooling on a jersey and beating his chest as if he trying to stave off an imminent cardiac arrest is just as likely to be making the same display of lifelong loyalty at another club in a season or two.
So why, every time this laughable minipantomime happens, does one end of the ground erupt in fury, while the other comes over all sentimental: ‘Look, he’s kissing our badge, he must love the club like we do’? Wrong on both counts.
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