Frank Sidebottom: An Obituary
Away from the World Cup, Chris Sievey, along with his character Frank Sidebottom, has sadly passed away. Sidebottom, who was instantly recognisable with his giant papier mache head, had been a cult figure on the Manchester comedy scene and beyond. He had also made a number of television appearances, his proudest being on Match of the Day, as his song of the same title will attest.
I had been aware of Frank Sidebottom for a long time, but not really given him much thought. He was an unusual cult figure that I didn’t really understand, and had no real inclination to try to. It is only in the past couple of months that I’ve really taken to him, and understood why he is so loved by his faithful following.
What was wonderful about Sidebottom was that he captured the essence of watching football as a child. Everything about him screams a naive and wide-eyed love of the game.
His songs and discussions of playing football in his garden evoke a distinct memory. He still exists in a time where you check scores on teletext and feel like the world is ending when your favourite football shirt is in the wash and you can’t wear it.
It’s a wonderful world, away from multi-million pound transfer fees and tabloid coverage of players’ personal lives. It’s a world that I’d forgotten about, but listening to Frank brings it all flooding back.
I’m still excited by football, but in a different way to when I was a child. The world cup brings with it a tremendous joy, but I don’t cherish every aspect of it. I don’t even watch every game, whereas I used to get over-excited at the prospect of watching highlights of Wrexham on regional television.
I suppose the sheer volume of football today, and the access to it, makes you take it for granted, but Sidebottom is a reminder of how I used to cherish any exposure I could get. As a young child, the sight of anything even remotely connected to football would make my heart skip. Frank never lost that feeling.
Sidebottom was in a state of arrested development; he still lived with his mum and played football in his garden. I haven’t gone next door to ask for my ball back for fifteen years, but it was still a regular part of his life. He had never let go of that childish, almost giddy love of football and seeing him would reawaken that memory. His final song, ‘Three shirts on my line’ captures it perfectly, far better than I can. I can only hope it now comes to further prominence.
He was the perfect antidote to the pitfalls of the modern game. He had a wilful ignorance towards the growing impact of money shaping the game, preferring to enjoy the simplest of footballing pleasures. Amidst humourless fans who take the game too serious is Frank had such a playful love of it. The discomfort of hearing fans aggressively swear at a player and fades into distant memory when you hear the playful chants of ‘nil-nil’, or ‘there’s only one referee’.
Chris Sievey had been diagnosed with cancer, but concealed the extent of his illness. It’s a fitting epithet to Sidebottom – protecting others from the harshness of reality. When listening to Frank there was no negativity or responsibility in the world; it would feel like you were again seven years old and it was the first day of the summer; a summer of playing football in the park or your garden that went on forever.
May he rest in peace. In his big shorts.
Luke Catterson
