At the end of a day of sunbathing, swimming, reading, eating and drinking, I reflect on following the fortunes of our team from further away than usual.
Although this is my 59th season watching West Ham, and I have seen far more games than I have missed in that time, I have yet to go through a whole season attending every home game, despite being a season ticket holder for some time.
Booking holidays well in advance of the fixture list being revealed is an unfortunate necessity of life if you have a specific destination in mind, and have a wife who works in a school, and you wish to take a break in the half-term holiday. But even if you arrange the break such that only one weekend is involved, it is Murphy’s (or sod’s) law that the computer will ensure that you miss a home game. Of course it is a double Murphy when we progress in the League (EFL) cup and we are drawn at home to Chelsea in the following midweek.
As a result I was forced to follow the Sunderland game from a distance of around 2000 miles on the beach in Taurito in the south of Gran Canaria.
There weren’t many people on this particular stretch of black sand, typical of Canary Island shorelines. We paid our fifteen euros for two sun beds and a parasol, I took a dip in the warm, but fairly rough sea, and then settled down to follow the game via a variety of websites and social media. Just before half time, despite there being many sun beds free on the beach, a German family decided to invade our personal space unnecessarily by choosing the beds next to ours and then moving them closer.
So at half time we retreated to the hotel pool and I followed the game from there on my phone. It appeared that we were well on top but unable to make a deserved breakthrough.
The hotel had a number of bars, including a sports bar with a giant screen. Due to the wonders of modern technology, especially satellites, despite being seventy miles off the west coast of Africa in the Atlantic Ocean, it was possible to view almost any sporting event taking place anywhere in the world as it happened. In fact the giant screen could split into nine smaller screens to satisfy a whole range of tastes simultaneously. I would have been happy to watch the West Ham game on one-ninth of the screen, but despite there not being too many people in there wanting to watch on a sunny afternoon, almost all of them were selfish gooners who wanted to view the full size screen. So I sat outside in the sun, but as the game entered injury time I was resigned to a goalless draw and popped into the Sports Bar to see how many goals that Arsenal had put into the Middlesbrough net. They were in the 93rd minute, and just like their North London neighbours earlier in the day, they had failed to score. I couldn’t be too smug as we too had not scored against lowly Sunderland. Then almost simultaneously there was a goal in both games. The Arsenal fans were jubilant until they realised it had been disallowed as Ozil was yards offside. But our goal had stood and we had picked up a very welcome, although not entirely convincing three points.
Just a few minutes later I was able to view our goal on my phone. The way we approached a corner in the 94th minute took everyone, including our manager, but not Noble, Payet and Reid by surprise. Instead of the usual last minute hoof into the danger area, a cleverly worked short corner ended with Reid firing a low shot through almost everyone on the pitch. How it evaded everyone is hard to fathom. To me it appeared that three or four of our players were offside, especially Calleri who must have been unsighting the keeper. But incredibly the goal stood, and after all the dodgy refereeing decisions that went against us last season it made a big change for one to go in our favour.
Appropriately in a week where we have a League Cup fourth round tie scheduled this week in Hammer’s history is dominated by various encounters across the years in the Cinderella competition. Arguably, the easiest competition to win but one in which we remain complete virgins.
Taking Points over Performance.
Fresh from the encouraging win against Crystal Palace last weekend Hammer’s supporters will be looking for the same professionalism and panache as West Ham entertain lowly Sunderland at the London Stadium today. Without a win all season and just two draws in their account the visitors look almost as miserable as the look on their manager’s face. If ever a team reflected the manager’s personality on the pitch then it is the Black Cats.
There is something very humbling in trying to come to terms with the fact that you are a worse forecaster of Premier League results than Lawro. In fact I am becoming quite suspicious of the current standings to the extent that I believe that my predictions may have been compromised by Russian hackers. There is still a long way to go but I need to consider whether or not I will accept the results once the counting has finished.
When we set off for Upton Park on October 19 1968 I am not sure we knew what to expect that afternoon. When we were travelling from home to the game, on those Saturdays when we weren’t playing football for Barking Abbey School in the morning, we caught the British Rail train from Rainham to Barking, then met others for the two-stop trip on the District Line to Upton Park. Last season I made the same trip to a game, visiting memory lane (and Ferry Lane), and have to confess that not much has changed in the intervening forty-eight years. The overground trains now have automatic doors and are quieter, but Rainham Station, Barking Station, the District Line, Upton Park Station and Green Street all looked and smelt just the same as they did when we were young teenagers.
When we are growing up most of us have heroes. As a young boy, my walls were adorned with pictures of my first heroes. Photographs of West Ham footballers and pop stars filled my bedroom from the late 1950’s throughout the 1960’s. Last time I wrote of my first hero, John Dick, whose replica shirt I got for Christmas 1958. The following Christmas my autograph book was signed by the West Ham team, who were all heroes to a five year old fan. Fast forward one year. I am now six, approaching seven, and Christmas is a week or so away.
Within a couple of years he was an England player, he played in the 1962 World Cup tournament in Chile, and he captained England at 22. He collected the FA Cup when we beat Preston in 1964, the European Cup Winners Cup the following year, and the World Cup a year later. Three times he climbed the 39 Wembley steps at the head of his team. He was still only 25 years old.
I can recall so many games as I watched him hundreds of times. I have so many memories, including some unusual ones. I remember how he wiped his hands before shaking hands with the Queen when collecting the World Cup. I remember him accidentally knocking out a referee with the ball and picking up the whistle to stop the game. I remember him dancing a jig with Jimmy Greaves in a game against Tottenham. I remember him scoring a magnificent goal against QPR, running from inside our half and unleashing an unstoppable shot into the top corner, before turning on his heels and walking back barely celebrating. I remember his anticipation, the way he timed his tackles, his magnificent distribution. I remember watching a great defender. I haven’t seen anyone better since.
It has been good fun trying to come up with West Ham all-time football teams where the players surnames all begin with the same letter. Some letters have proved to be more difficult than others resulting in combined teams, but the letter S is one where I can think of a whole team.
After the encouraging victory on Saturday the emotional swingometer has turned completely on its axis shifting from doom and despair to euphoric optimism. While the positivity is welcome after such a disappointing start to the season a sense of perspective needs to be maintained as we come to the end of our run of ‘easier’ games. The formation and attitude worked well at Palace and now we need to see if that can be followed through at home to Sunderland.
Under The Hammers 