The Michael Doyle Cockney Walk Kop?
Some Sheffield United supporters, particularly those who remember Carlos Tevez, probably quite like the sound of that following their captain’s celebratory swagger after emphatically dispatching the penalty which knocked West Ham out of the Capital One Cup.
Or the Kell Brook Kop? In recognition of the boxing Blade being crowned IBF welterweight king of the world.
Both, I think it’s fair to say, roll off the tongue quite nicely. Resonate better, with all due respect to Bramall Lane’s wonderful and generous sponsors, than, let’s say for example, the Esso End or GlaxoSmithKline Family Stand.
United, as Olympic gold medallist Jessica Ennis can testify, have previous when it comes to naming parts of their stadium after famous fans who have excelled in their chosen disciplines.
But should former players or loyal servants be the only folk bestowed with this honour? Perhaps. Especially when you consider the number of very deserving cases to receive no such recognition during the past 125 years.
Tony Currie, John Harris, Brian Deane, Keith Edwards, even Neil Warnock, John Nicholson and Dave Bassett. The list goes on and on.
Then again, football clubs are about so much more than those who have represented them either on the pitch or, in an official capacity, behind the scenes. They should also be champions of, and standard bearers for, the communities they represent so it seems a shame not to select from there too.
United, as the blue plaques dotted around their ground and its fascinating Legends of the Lane facility demonstrate, do a pretty good job of celebrating their history.
Likewise, when the situation has demanded, those who have followed them across the land. Yellow seats and sincerely penned pieces in the matchday programme are proof of that.
But, expanding the theme of celebrity followers and big rebranding exercises, I see no reason why the country’s professional teams shouldn’t consider more unglamorous names. Those who spend their hard earned cash on tickets and travel expenses.
Because people like that have also gone above and beyond the call of duty. Albeit in slightly more inconspicuous ways.
Speaking of above and beyond, in terms of hullabaloo and hype at least, Monday is transfer deadline day. Twenty-four hours when, thanks to the work of some media outlets, no business conducted beforehand seems to count. It’s got everything to do with theatre and absolutely nothing to do with sport. Do yourself a favour and, irrespective of whether Nigel Clough signs a player, sells someone or simply chooses to ignore the damn charade altogether, treat the manufactured frenzy and drama with the nonchalance it deserves.