I Defect.

One of my favorite movies from the 1980s is "Moscow on the Hudson”, starring Robin Williams. In this film, Williams’ character, a fellow named Vladimir, is a Russian musician who accompanies the Soviet state circus on a glasnost visit to the US and New York City.

Soviet life for Vladimir holds little more than hum drum disenchantments; from fuel shortages, and ugly, uncomfortable shoes to personal invasions by the proper authorities. Vlad and his comrades get to spend their nights off in mile-long lines to wait for third rate toilet paper.

The daily annoyances only serve to rile up Vlad and his best pal, Yuri the Clown, in this passive-aggressive and inefficient, maybe cruel, power system. From Yuri’s mouth, there is talk about defection to The West.

Later, during the big trip to the US, and Yuri the Clown not only loses his nerve but complains about his own self-defeat. In contrast, Vlad becomes incensed, takes charge of his hesitations. When the time comes to board the bus back to the airport, Vlad stonewalls. He states to his Soviet commander, “I defect" in the middle of Macy’s department store.

Without being too dramatic, I can say I have found myself in similar situations as a fan and follower of sports. Lucky not to be standing in line for toilet paper, I have been abused as a fan for years on end, by a favorite sports club that clearly doesn’t care about the fans who support it.

The club in question, Newcastle United, had been my keeper and long time favorite distraction. While I’m probably half of the problem, the club has played its own denigrating role too.

My American friends probably wonder why I get caught up in soccer in the first place. But there is something about English Football --my favorite flavor of the game-- that overshadows every other sport in the world when it comes to excitement and great sports action.

The only reasonable comparison I can make for my soccer-indifferent American friends is this. Imagine you’re a fan of March Madness College Basketball. But you get March Madness, the crazy fans, the last gasp last second wins, and all its high-stakes excitement all season long, from August to May.

English Football is a high stakes game. Every season, the worst three teams get “relegated” or demoted to a lesser league. With that, the losers get the pride-swallowing fun of playing smaller clubs in less accommodating mini-stadiums, not to mention the loss of millions in TV revenue.

Imagine your whole baseball team getting sent “back to the minors” after a long, hard, losing season. If this happened in the NFL, the Detroit Lions would be in pee-wee football by now.

So, yes, Newcastle has had one of those seasons. Like that’s not enough. More serious, there’s been a pattern of indifference for many seasons that has been transformed into a custom.

First off, the club has been through eight coaches in seven seasons; certainly not good for stability. This comes as a result of some false starts by some of the coaches, but also shows a lack of commitment and patience by greedy execs looking for a quick fix to save their own jobs.

And like the New York Knicks, Newcastle has a knack for signing big name players who are past their peak and sliding downward, almost all for big money. The attitude appears to be to throw anything and see if it will stick.

This kind of thing infuriates Newcastle’s fans. The club was built over years and years into a successful powerhouse by carefully grooming and developing players who were not only good players, but honorable gentlemen who set an unusual example as a team who could play as a team, with egos cast aside. It is this factor that brought me in a decade ago and kept me wanting more and more.

Instead, now the focus has been on throwing around money in hopes of saving the current season, while talking big about the next. But, constant player departures have caused a backlash.

Last fall, fans paraded the stadium with signs reading “Cockney Mafia Out”, a jab at the club’s London-based owner. Others of us saw this as another step toward the abyss. Since this mayhem, Mike Ashley, the club’s owner, has twice tried to sell The Toon unsuccessfully and has resorted to selling naming rights to the stadium to raise cash.

Eight seasons have been littered with crushing and embarrassing defeats, with self-destruction a regularity. Conceding eight goals last season against Liverpool wasn’t exactly heart warming, though maybe the players should be commended for spreading the embarrassment across two games. The year before, the Toon gave up eleven against Man United.

And I can’t help but remember in April 2005 watching two Newcastle team mates duke it out on-field at a home game in front of 50,000 stunned and utterly appalled fans.

Problems crop up when disinterested money men step in and try to run a sports club like a waste-hauling business or hot dog plant. Unfortunately, sports teams are not like other businesses.

You can’t drop in a couple million and build a team quick and on the cheap. Just because you feed a thoroughbred some Twinkies doesn’t mean the sugar rush will win him the race. Probably the opposite.

Every year ESPN Magazine puts out an issue ranking all the clubs of the major four sports in America: Football, Baseball, Basketball, and Hockey. The rankings are never about wins or championships, rather ESPN squares in on the quality of the organization.

Perennial stars are clubs like the Green Bay Packers and the St Louis Cardinals. These clubs get high marks not only for building strong sports teams, but for their treatment of the fans. Good sports clubs allow fans to participate in a meaningful way, regardless of the season’s outcome.

Clubs like the Chicago Blackhawks and the Cincinnati Bengals have been past listed as “worst” franchises, namely during years when they raised ticket prices while diluting the team and sticking it to fans in general.

But indifference and incompetence convert into abuse when practiced with repetition. Sometimes, as in Newcastle’s case, players and coaches become chess pieces to narcissistic owners and the end result is an ailing, decrepit sports team.

Other times, the owners make asses of themselves at the team’s expense, as Marge Schott did with repetitive comments praising Hitler. Schott’s stupid jibes made life hell for the Cincinnati Reds and made their fans want to hide in secrecy.

Damaging the relationship with your fans isn’t only bad business. It makes the case for defection. I have a few friends back home who have abandoned the Philadelphia Eagles over their acquisition of Michael Vick. I know people who have switched college football allegiances for love, which is probably a more noble enterprise.

Speaking of, it’s important to mention that emotion and longing play an underrated part in the sports fan’s psyche.

I’ve been a strident, loyal and patient fan of the Toon for a long time. But after a while, stale bad relationships get cold and murky like old bath water.

Like many footy fans I have always had a second team. That team, Manchester City FC, representing the blue half of Manchester against the forces of evil (Manchester United), has always tugged on my heart.

Underdogs tend to do that. Maybe I’ve had a mistress all along.

For a long time, Man City games were impossible to watch; either because they were not televised, or the team was so horrendous on the field that you might reconsider watching in the first place. But like my Chicago Cubs, there has always been an optimistic and warm culture around the club that transcends the score of the game or the season’s results.

Recently, Man City has had an exciting renaissance. The club’s mystique and fan base has attracted a rich owner who has rightly invested in great players with a vision to move the club forward permanently. While tuning in to experience the games, I have also connected with other fans, at the grass roots level, which makes this new tryst of mine much more satisfying and enriching.

Counting today, I’ve seen about three fourths of City’s games, rearranging schedules to do so. I’ve also gotten up at 6am on weekends and blown off work too. As for the Toon, I’ve seen a few of their games, but the fire in my heart is out.

So where do I stand? I am no clown; I guess that makes me a defector. I defect.

Some will ask why. But, I gotta go with this. After all, the heart wants what it wants.

Frye writes weekly about sports and life. Updates can be found here at MySports/Complex and on his Facebook page of the same name.