Culture
London has several major football clubs. Why does Paris only have one?
Follow live coverage of Arsenal vs PSG in the Champions League today
When European club competition was originally devised back in 1955, it was in the form of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, the predecessor to the UEFA Cup and Europa League.
As the name hints, the competition was originally designed to promote European trade fairs, and had a strict ‘one club per city’ rule. On that basis, this week’s Champions League clash between Arsenal and Paris Saint-Germain is, in basic terms, pretty much what you’d expect. On the basis of domestic titles won, this is the most successful club from each of Europe’s biggest two cities (discounting Russia) playing each other.
But there are several complications.
First, PSG might be France’s biggest club today, but back in 1955, they were 15 years away from being formed.
Second, Arsenal are one of seven top-flight London clubs in 2024-25, and have often finished behind Chelsea and Tottenham in recent seasons. PSG, meanwhile, have been the only top-flight Parisian club for the last three decades.
And when you look at the average attendances of the biggest clubs in both cities last season, the difference is stark.
So how have western Europe’s two major cities managed to do club football quite so differently? Or, more to the point, how come Paris can only support one major club?
The British clubs
London is unique, in terms of boasting so many major football clubs. If we’re slightly generous with our definition of city boundaries, Madrid and Lisbon often feature four top-flight sides, Athens effectively has five this season, while Istanbul can offer six. But London’s seven is highly unusual, and a further three London clubs — Charlton Athletic, Queens Park Rangers and the old Wimbledon FC — have previously played in the Premier League since its formation in 1992. Millwall featured in the top flight between 1988 and 1990 too.
London has a network of intense football rivalries (Marc Atkins/Getty Images)
Paris, on the other hand, is highly unusual in contributing just one top-flight club. The standard approach for big cities — Rome, Milan, Manchester — is generally two. But while Paris is an outlier in European terms, it isn’t in French terms. In 2024-25, France’s top-flight features 18 teams from 18 different settlements.
In keeping with many other major European cities, the first Parisian football clubs were formed by Britons. Sides with English-language names like the Standard Athletic Club and White Rovers came into existence in the final decade of the 19th century, and primarily featured British players. In comparison with Nordic, Mediterranean and central European nations, football was slow to develop in France. The authorities considered the rugby version of football to be more sophisticated, and association football was barely played in schools.
The first Olympic football tournament was held in Paris in 1900, and won by Great Britain — or, in reality, by an East London outfit named Upton Park. They had no link to nearby West Ham and were an amateur side, as professional athletes were, at that stage, not allowed to compete in the Olympics. Britain had a hold over Parisian football already.
Meanwhile, as noted by Chris Lee in his book Origin Stories, when France formed a cup competition in 1910, quality and interest was so low from within France that the tournament was an invitational event open to English sides. Therefore, while this was not the Coupe de France — which would be formed in 1917 — the first three winners of a major cup in Paris were Swindon Town, Clapton Orient (now Leyton Orient) and Fulham. They defeated Barnsley, Millwall and QPR respectively at the Parc des Princes, the same site PSG play on today, between 1910 and 1912.
In that sense, you can reasonably argue that London was more influential than Paris in the rise of French football. While the key figure in France’s belated footballing development was Henri Delaunay, the man after whom the European Championship trophy is named, he was inspired after attending the 1902 FA Cup final at Crystal Palace between Sheffield United and Southampton.
Scenes from the 1902 FA Cup final between Sheffield United and Southampton, an inspirational match for Henri Delaunay (Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
The French clubs
So what about actual Parisian clubs themselves?
Well, the other famous French football innovator of this time — and another with a major international trophy named after him — was Jules Rimet. He formed Red Star, a Parisian multi-sport club, in 1897. They are the only true constant of the last 125-odd years.
When Ligue 1 was originated in 1932, Red Star were one of four Parisian clubs in the top flight. The others were Club Francais (as the name suggests, the first Parisian club formed by French players, and represented France at the aforementioned 1900 Olympics), Cercle Athletique de Paris and Racing Club de Paris.
But these clubs struggled to grow. The Tour de France was created in 1903 and cycling was unquestionably the biggest sport in France. Rowing and gymnastics were also favoured, and rugby was still more popular. Football was, in contrary to what was happening in England, not the sport of the working class — it was favoured by the anglophile liberal metropolitan elite of the early 20th century. Paris was clearly the centre of that, but the game was treated as a pastime rather than to build a town around.
Cycling became France’s most important sport in the 20th century, not football (AFP via Getty Images)
Intra-city rivalries didn’t develop anywhere in France. With some early French competitions only accepting one club per region, combined with minimal public support and a reliance on local councils for income and building stadia, French clubs found that mergers were more conducive to success than city rivalries. Of the aforementioned four clubs, Club Francais were relegated from the inaugural Ligue 1 season and essentially ceased to exist after a merger in 1935. Cercle Athletique de Paris were also quickly relegated, managed another three decades and then also fell victim to a merger, becoming an amateur side.
It was really only Red Star and Racing Club which survived.
Red Star are more notable for being a left-wing club than a successful one, attracting a committed cult support and experiencing a turbulent time on the pitch. In the 21st century, they’ve competed at every level between the sixth and the second tiers.
Racing Club, meanwhile, were briefly managed in the 1930s by Jimmy Hogan — referred to as ‘the most influential coach in football history’ by Jonathan Wilson in his history of football tactics, Inverting The Pyramid — and won a single Ligue 1 title three years after his departure in 1936. They suffered serious financial problems in the 1960s and tumbled through the divisions, but were revived by a famous French businessman, Jean-Luc Lagardere, in the 1980s. He was most notable for his stewardship of Formula 1 team Matra, who won the world championship in 1969.
Lagardere threw money at the side, signings the likes of David Ginola, Luis Fernandez, Pierre Littbarski and Enzo Francescoli, and even appointed Artur Jorge as manager immediately after he’d led Porto to the European Cup in 1987. Lagardere was serious about Racing Club, although it attracted few supporters. After a desperate attempt to increase the profile of the club, and his brand, by renaming it Matra Racing, Lagardere eventually conceded defeat and withdrew his financial support. The club was relegated from Ligue 1 in 1990, and financial problems meant they were double-relegated to the third tier.
David Ginola playing for Matra Racing in the 1980s (Marc Francotte/TempSport/Corbis via Getty Images)
There’s a wider question about quite how football-crazy France is, compared to other European nations. The country didn’t really capitalise on the national side’s fine performance in finishing third at World Cup 1958. Then the national side didn’t qualify for a major tournament between 1966 and 1978. David Goldblatt, in his seminal book The Ball is Round, writes that, “While in Britain the new youth and musical cultures of the 1960s interacted with football, in France they stood as an alternative and an opponent. The counter-cultures of the late 1960s explicitly rejected football and its antiquated provincial hierarchies.”
The lift-off moments were the national team successes on Parisian soil in 1984 and 1998, but the boosts to domestic football — and in particular, domestic support — were negligible. The heroes of those sides soon moved abroad, if they hadn’t emigrated already, in part due to high taxation rates in France.
The modern clubs
So where did PSG come from?
Well, in a sense it was a new club, and in another sense it was another merger. While generally mocked for a relative lack of history — even before the Qatari takeover in 2011 — PSG are interesting in that they were born due to a crowdfunding campaign that attracted startup capital from 20,000 ‘supporters’ who were prepared to contribute to the foundation of a new club, although two wealthy businessmen were the figureheads.
Slightly confusingly, PSG was originally a merger of Paris FC (a club only formed the previous year) and Stade St Germain, although two years after the formation of PSG, Paris FC split from the new club because the city’s mayor refused to financially support a club which technically played outside the boundaries of the city. Paris FC re-established themselves as an independent entity, retained the club’s players and Ligue 1 status, while PSG were relegated to the third tier and had to work their way through the divisions again.
PSG’s first golden era came in the 1990s, when they were taken over by television giants Canal+, but attendances were always relatively modest considering the size of the city they represented. PSG, of course, are unlike any clubs in London in that they carry the name of the city, something they’ve been increasingly keen to take advantage of over the last decade. They’ve made ‘Paris’ more prominent on their crest, and like their name to be abbreviated to ‘PAR’ rather than ‘PSG’ on television graphics.
PSG won the Coupe de France three times in the 1990s (Christian Liewig/TempSport/Corbis via Getty Images)
Also worthy of mention is US Creteil, from the south-eastern suburbs of Paris. Formed in the 1930s, they played in the second tier regularly at the start of the century, and as recently as 2016, although even at that stage only attracted attendances of around 2000. They’re now back in the fourth tier.
But Parisian football is at its strongest point for many decades. Red Star won the third-tier Championnat National last season and are competing in Ligue 2 alongside Paris FC — who are currently top of the table, and aiming for promotion to Ligue 1 for the first time since relegation in 1979. Paris FC also have a strong women’s side, who regularly finish third in the Premiere Ligue (formerly known as Division 1 Feminine) behind PSG and Lyon, and eliminated Arsenal in the Champions League qualifiers last season, although they were soundly beaten by Manchester City this time around.
Red Star’s players celebrate winning the 2023-24 Championnat National (ANTONIN UTZ/AFP via Getty Images)
But those two clubs are still struggling for support. Paris FC averaged 5,500 last season, the 13th-highest attendance of the 20 clubs in Ligue 2. Red Star attracted around 3,500. And the reality is that their dual rise owes little to local support, and more to what many would consider the twin evils of modern football: state ownership and multi-club ownership.
Since 2020, Paris FC have been 20 per cent owned by by the Kingdom of Bahrain, who have seemingly been inspired by PSG’s Qatari-led dominance. Bahrain also act as the club’s main sponsors. “They join us for many objectives — mainly to help them to spread the image of Bahrain in France and Europe,” said director general Fabrica Herrault said in an interview upon the takeover.
The situation at Red Star also feels familiar, and somewhat unsatisfying given their long history of being a left-wing club. In May 2022 they were purchased by a US investment firm, 777 Partners, who also own the likes of Genoa, Hertha Berlin and Vasco da Gama. That attracted serious opposition from supporters, and their protests led to the postponement of a league match two years ago.
With a major fraud claim recently brought against 777, Red Star have been the subject of interest from another American, Steve Pagliuca, who owns Atalanta and is part-owner of the Boston Celtics. According to Bloomberg, Pagliuca “saw opportunities to invest in French football, where lower broadcast revenue has left clubs in need of capital.”
Average attendances in French football are currently positive. Ligue 1 recorded its highest-ever attendance last season of 27,100, while Ligue 2’s figure was 8,650, the best figure for 15 years — although that was boosted by two traditional giants, Saint-Etienne and Bordeaux, unusually, being in the second tier. The Ligue 2 stadiums, in general, were still only 55 per cent full.
In the capital, Paris FC’s 20,000-capacity stadium is only around a quarter full most weeks, while Red Star at least manage to make a modest 5,600-capacity ground in the northern suburbs look busy.
And while the nature of these clubs’ ownership is relatively modern, this is the history of Parisian football. The financial investment arrives before the support — if the support ever arrives at all. Of course, PSG have won 10 of the last 12 Ligue 1 titles and attract an average attendance of over 45,000, although there have been waves of unhappiness from supporters in recent years, and there are sporadic reports that Qatar might consider rethinking its investment.
Arsenal’s Ian Wright taking on PSG in March 1994 (Anton Want/Getty Images)
In general, French clubs are still struggling to generate their own money. Ligue 1’s new television rights deal represents a 12 per cent decrease on the previous agreement, and that’s a joint agreement with DAZN and BeIN Sports, the latter being Qatar-owned and surely less likely to stick around if Qatar isn’t investing in PSG. Unlike in England, domestic football has never become appointment television viewing in France.
If Paris FC continue their fine start to the campaign, next season there will be a top-flight Parisian derby in Ligue 1 for the first time since Racing Club’s relegation in 1990. But with seven top-flight sides, London boasts 42 derbies a year. The difference owes to many factors, including the historic structure of competitions and clubs’ reliance on local councils for funds.
But more than anything else, it’s simply a reflection on wildly varying levels of interest in football.
(Header photo: Tim Clayton/Corbis via Getty Images)
Culture
What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.
Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?
Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.
Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.
Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.
As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.
Are those worlds real?
Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.
Until then, we find consolation in fangles.
Culture
Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook
When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.
Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.
Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.
A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.
But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”
The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.
Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”
Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.
There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”
It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.
That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.
“You’re just a kid,
Gordie–”
“I wish to fuck
I was your father!”
he said angrily.
“You wouldn’t go around
talking about takin those stupid shop courses if I was!
It’s like
God gave you something,
all those stories
you can make up, and He said:
This is what we got for you, kid.
Try not to lose it.
But kids lose everything
unless somebody looks out for them and if your folks
are too fucked up to do it
then maybe I ought to.”
I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?
So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.
I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.
I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.
“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”
Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.
Rob really encouraged us to be kids.
Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.
We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”
The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”
Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”
The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.
They chanted together:
“I don’t shut up,
I grow up.
And when I look at you I throw up.”
“Then your mother goes around the corner
and licks it up,”
I said, and hauled ass out of there,
giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.
I never had any friends later on
like the ones I had when I was twelve.
Jesus, did you?
When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”
And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.
“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”
The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.
I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.
I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity.
That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.
“Will you shut up and let him tell it?”
Teddy hollered.
Vern blinked.
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
“Go on, Gordie,”
Chris said. “It’s not really much—”
“Naw,
we don’t expect much from a wet end like you,”
Teddy said,
“but tell it anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “So anyway.
It’s Pioneer Days,
and on the last night
they have these three big events.
There’s an egg-roll for the little kids and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,
and then there’s the pie-eating contest.
And the main guy of the story
is this fat kid nobody likes
named Davie Hogan.”
When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.
I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.
“I feel the loss.”
Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.
The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.
I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.
What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.
And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.
Near the end
of 1971,
Chris
went into a Chicken Delight in Portland
to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.
Just ahead of him,
two men started arguing
about which one had been first in line. One of them pulled a knife.
Chris,
who had always been the best of us
at making peace,
stepped between them and was stabbed in the throat.
The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;
he had been released from Shawshank State Prison
only the week before.
Chris died almost instantly.
It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.
Culture
Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?
Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.
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