Never cross the line with banter

A pen and scrap of paper was thrust in Deano's direction along with a surprisingly polite request to "sign here, please".

Windass, never one to turn away an autograph hunter, obligingly put pen to paper.

Then he disarmed his new admirer by asking if he was one of those home supporters who had spent most of the game slagging off the size of his girth.

The punter was temporarily lost for words before breaking into a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I was having a pop at you," he muttered, "but then so was everyone else. But I'd still love you to be in our team."

Windass did not take offence. The terrace banter has never bothered him in the slightest - if anything, he thrives on it.

He knows the name-calling is just part of the game; for 90 minutes he revels as public enemy number one. But then the final whistle blows and it's all smiles.

As they say, fans buy their tickets and with it the right to say what they want. Within reason.

Fans and players, in general, know where to draw the line but sadly that is becoming increasingly muddied.

Stick from the stands comes with the territory and footballers quickly learn to grow the hide of a rhino. If the supporters can sense a reaction then they will do it all the more - it works the same in the school playground.

Inevitably, though, there will be flashpoints when the target decides that enough is enough. Then they respond - and then the real trouble kicks off.

Often the same people who were effing and blinding to their heart's content suddenly become angelic little lambs; shocked and upset by getting the odd verbal back.

In their ideal world, you can call a player and manager anything you want and there is this invisible shield that stops any retaliation.

You see what happens when that shield comes down.

Colin Todd never recovered from the outburst he had with a small group of away fans after a particularly insipid display at Gillingham.

A couple of supporters came to the front of the terrace to confront the City boss as he headed for the dressing rooms. Rather than ignore it, Todd's finger wagged and he hit back with both barrels.

His reputation was tainted - and a similar episode took place a few months later after a home game which had seen Windass sent off for a reckless foul after just ten minutes. On that occasion, Todd even invited his accuser to join him in the tunnel "for a civilised football chat".

Nicky Summerbee was similarly vilified in some quarters after a spat with City supporters in a game at Crewe; Steve Schumacher issued a public apology for gesturing at the away end on the day relegation was confirmed at Chesterfield.

In hindsight, the players must have wished they had let it ride. Those who react are on a hiding to nothing - but sometimes it can't be that easy.

Jamie Carragher couldn't button it when he was spat at after Liverpool's FA Cup tie at Luton last week.

The game had long finished and Carragher was just going through the warm-down exercises. A group of starry-eyed youngsters shouted for an autograph and he was happy to go across and make their day.

But while he signed away, someone from a nearby hospitality box thought it funny to spit beer at him. Carragher flipped - as anyone in his position would do.

He climbed a fence and spelled out a few home truths. The next day, a national newspaper splashed its front cover with the "exclusive" of Carragher "seeing red" and "launching into fans".

Accompanying this story was an image of Eric Cantona's infamous kung-fu kick and the old tale of Brian Clough clipping the ear of a pitch-invader.

It was complete baloney, of course, and the truth about Carragher's contretemps appeared the following day. But the damage had been done and football's name dragged through the mire once more.

There is banter and then there is downright filth. Nobody should be spat at in their place of work and be expected to turn the other cheek. There is nothing remotely amusing or clever about that.

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