The takeover bid for Manchester United is not just the biggest story in the history of the Universe, football division, or the most important story in the world today, media section, or possibly the hottest story of tomorrow, British politics department, but it's by far the funniest story for, well, oh it must be days and days.
Who could not laugh aloud at the Sun, proprietor R. Murdoch, welcoming it with screaming headlines, saying it was the best thing ever to happen to football? Where and how did they get those Man United fans, the ones saying how truly wonderful it all was? No connection of course with all the other Man United fans in the non-Murdoch press who said the very opposite.
And the Times of London, proprietor someone or other, giving it an equally warm welcome, if not quite so hysterical. Can't wait for the News of the World on Sunday to devote umpteen pages to this incredibly brilliant news.
Then it's been awfully amusing watching the English football authorities huffing and puffing, saying they will not let the dreaded Murdoch get away with all this, whatever all this turns out to be. They will report him, oh yes they will report him, to someone or other, just as soon as they get their heads out of the sand.
Then, from Downing Street, we have heard that Murdoch will be treated just like any other run-of-the-mill multi-millionaire global magnate, the sort whom craven Labour leaders have scurried halfway across the world to keep in with. No favours will be given to him. Certainly not.
Yes, you have to smile. After all, that's all we humble fans can do. We are mere pawns in all this, spectators at the feast of football, content to pay through the nose to Sky TV to watch our heroes, to buy the endless shirts, or mortgage our house for a season ticket. Not, of course, that any Man United fan without a season ticket has a hope in hell of getting one. Not in this lifetime. Or in a future life. You've had it, chum.
Back in the 1860s, when football as we know it began, the players were amateurs and so were the owners, who were either public school chaps or working men from local factories. While players soon became professional, the owners remained amateurs for the next hundred years - local butchers and bakers, doctors or solicitors, in it perhaps for the local contacts and influence, to be big fish in little ponds, but certainly not in it for the money.
Then in the 1960s came the new-rich, property speculators and City whiz-kids, in it partly for the money, seeing clubs and their assets as good investments, ripe for plucking, but also half in it for the glory, for the ego, for the publicity and excitement.
Now, with the arrival of Murdoch and, no doubt, other multi-media groups who see football as a part of their portfolio for world domination, we have reached the stage where the owners of the top clubs have no interest whatsoever in football. They are in it purely for the money, for the bargaining power, the TV clout which comes with owning a major club.
Murdoch is probably about the Most Hated Man in Britain. Has been for some years, except, of course, amongst those creatures whose lives he controls. And, as he doesn't know about football, and has no interest in it, he is probably unaware that Man Utd happens to be the Most Hated Club in Britain.
Yes, they are also the single most loved club, with more fans and followers living in Ireland than living in Stretford, but you just have to go to any of their matches - or any Premier League match. When there's not much to shout about, the cry rings out: "Stand up if you hate Man U". And everyone duly rises.
Even if Murdoch knew this he wouldn't care. You have to admire him. When it comes to being hated, he is going for the Double.
It should, in fact, be the directors of Man United who are most hated. Murdoch's motives are clear and simple, unlike the Man United directors. What has Man United got to gain by selling out? They are already the richest club in Europe, making millions every year, with the best collection of players at present, well able to buy or attract more top players if they really want them. What have they to gain by being mixed up with Murdoch, dragged into all the battles and jealousies and enmities to come? All they will get out of it is money. Greed wins. Football loses.
The first sign of all this money madness was about five years ago when it came out that Man United were now in the situation where they were making more money from merchandising and sponsorship than from supporters paying to watch them.
I did a TV programme, J'Accuse, ridiculing this topsy-turvy situation, and got a load of hate mail from Man United fans thinking I was having a go at them as opposed to their directors. Once making money became more important than supporters coming through the turnstiles, then the logical conclusion was to sell out - and make a killing, which is what they are doing now.
We can't, of course, go back. Football sold out to television some years ago when Sky began, and has now been gobbled up by the hand that appeared to feed it. Then the Stock Exchange came along and shares were issued. I bought some myself, 100 shares in Spurs, at a cost of £100.
They have recently been worth about half that, but that didn't worry me. I bought them for sentimental reasons, to stick on my bathroom wall. But, of course, the bigmoney, serious investors from the City, who own most shares, are not interested in sentiment. Like Murdoch, money is their only interest.
It's hard to predict the future, except that now football has become just another business, it will be treated like, well, just another business. When shares fall, profits slump, the new owners will think, hmm, time to sell out. When they in turn are subject to takeover bids, new owners might sell off the bits and pieces. The arrival of Murdoch, alas, finally signals that football no longer has control of football.
Hunter Davies is a freelance writer. He wrote the authorised biography of the Beatles as well as a volume on football, The Glory Game. He writes a column on the sport for the New Statesman magazine.
