João Cancelo commits cardinal sin in age of smartphone and transactional fandom

“You’re so annoying, my God,” João Cancelo complains, leaning out of his open car window with the indignation of a man at a drive-through who has just been handed the Smarties McFlurry when he specifically ordered the Oreo. “You’re here every day. Do I have to stop my car every day?

“Quickly, quickly,” he scolds them, as the procession of teenagers persists, posing for photos and handing him various objects to sign. Eventually, after an encounter lasting less than a couple of minutes, Cancelo drives away from the Barcelona training ground, leaving in his wake a pall of awkwardness, as well as some of the most reluctant selfies ever committed to a memory chip.

Of course, this is a scene that could have unfolded at any point in the history of sport. Pretty much all of us emerge from our youth with tales of autograph heartbreak, tales of rejection or refusal that scar us more deeply than is wise to admit. Andy Clarke, Wimbledon striker of the mid-1990s, would it have killed you to give the pen a second try rather than simply dropping it on the ground and walking away? You gotta call me, man. I’ll be the biggest fan you ever lose. Sincerely yours, Jonathan. PS: You were a yard offside and you knew it.

But then Cancelo broke the cardinal rule of fan interaction in the smartphone age: anything you say or do may be given in social media evidence. Within hours the exchange was being shared online, with Cancelo eventually forced to explain his conduct on Instagram, describing the offending fans as “20‑year‑old kids who are there every day, asking for autographs and selling them later”. He added: “This is repeated every day, and always by the same people. True fans I will always respect.”

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