Loving West Ham – A Beautifully Imperfect Valentine Romance

They say that love is blind and if that’s the case I suppose I’ve owned my own white stick with a claret and blue trim for a fair number of years now. Like any relationship, its had its ups and downs. There’ve been moments of pure ecstacy, times when to keep on turning up I’ve needed to be on ecstacy. The relationship has led to the breakdown of other relationships, it’s caused some mild depression, bouts of extreme anxiety and the odd panic attack. It’s put me in danger of physical harm, given me anger management issues and led to me developing a unique form of tourette’s which manifests itself each weekend for a period of about 2 hours, or more if we’ve lost, lasting roughly for 2/3rds of the calendar year.

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Loving West Ham can almost be like being a battered wife/husband. You get a beating now and again but you accept it and come back for more. Now we all know that’s not healthy and if it was as simple as that many might walk away but if you’re reading this you’ll know that following West Ham is a labour of love.

 

Longevity in a relationship is often defined by it’s origins of course. For mine, picture the scene if you will, a naive 4 year old stood in the street one day and the subject of a push and pull argument between his older brother and sister as to which football team I should support. I’d add that if it was purely about success then I guess it would have had to be ‘dirty’ Leeds at that time but it wasn’t that simple. It never is. You see my Sister had no interest in football but as an 11 year old girl she did have an interest in lovely looking young chaps and her bedroom wall was adorned with all the heartthorbs of the day – David Cassidy, Donny Osmond and some bouffanted pillock in a Blue football kit. Could have been Osgood, Hutchinson, whoever. Didn’t matter really. On the other hand, every morning I woke up in the bedroom I shared with my older brother to the stern gaze of the triumverate that was Moore, Hurst and Peters, staring down on me from the bedroom door. So, there we were, me looking dazed and confused and my two siblings having a shouting match about my allegiance. It went something like this…Sister – ‘Support Chelsea, they’re really cool and trendy and win stuff and have a lovely blue kit’. Brother ‘Support West Ham ‘cos we won the World Cup, we hate Chelsea and if you don’t I’ll give you a pasting’. So, rather than being entranced by a virgin visit 5 goal thriller at the Boleyn in the company of a battle hardended grandparent as our heroes of old fought out an epic win, I chose the Hammers because I didn’t fancy a beating from a brother 10 yers older than me. More importantly, I loved the colour of the kit. Being a little kid definitely draws you more towards colours so if you’re trying to work on the psychology of your offspring to keep the conveyer belt working remember not to overdo it on the passing game, the Academy, East London, whatever, when getting them into a certain shade of Claret and Blue will do the trick. Plus of course the threat of violence against a small child will probably get you into a whole world of trouble.

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Since that time I’ve had more downs than ups of course but we live for the good times – sometimes even a good spell of play – and that somehow sustains us through all the rest. The thing is, despite rubbish owners, managers, players, bond schemes, stadiums you name it, the thing about loving a club like West Ham is the way it shapes the key things in your life. Like not marrying the wrong woman for example. I’d been engaged to someone for 3 years but one night after a painful defeat, as I wept over the pub jukebox she mentioned casually that as it was only a game, couldn’t I just calm down and get another round in. She was history before the next episode of Eastenders blighted the airwaves. Compare to the woman I did marry who, strangely enough, after a particularly painful defeat to Arsenal in the FA Cup, presented me in the office with a do it yourself suicide kit consisting of a plastic knife, a cup and an elastic band (I never really got cup and the band bit). Tired and an emotional husk the morning after the night before, I couldn’t help thinking – and we weren’t an item then, that she had something. She kind of got it and at least showed some kind of psychological empathy with my despair. Later, when we were married, she demonstrated it again when I went missing for 8 hours after the FA Cup Final defeat. I staggered home to find a curry waiting for me and a knowing, if somewhat relieved look. So loving West ham can help you get the right partner in life. It can also ensure that other people that you love stay close. Like my oldest pal. He and I are miles apart – geographically especially. We live in different worlds but we still share West Ham and all the aggravation, separated by the fleeting moments of joy we’ve experienced over the years, and it will be ever thus. Plus he’s bequeathed me Geoff Hurst’s shirt…which I haven’t forgotten about Darren. Finally, loving West Ham can make you proud – not of them maybe (though there’s many a time when I have been) but of what they can inspire in others. I have three kids you see. One lovely girl who has no interest in football but loves her Dad and puts an arm around me when they’ve been the cause of some misery, which has been often. And I also have 2 boys who, in the face of massive ongoing peer pressure to support the usual suspects, have come through as true claret and blue boys, mascots both and fiercely loyal without a huge effort from me. So my work there is done and I know I’ll have a lifetime of company to share the highs and lows and hidden fortunes that come with following our club.

So. Why do I love West Ham? Because in a way it’s a good narrative on life. Mostly it’s a struggle, you cope with the tough times and treasure the good and even when it looks like things are down in the dumps there’s always a little chink of hope (even though it’s the Hope that kills you). And that hope might come from a sympathetic snog from your other half, or your mate, or, if you’re really really lucky like me, knowing that even when I’m more of an old duffer than I am now, there are some younger, newer, shinier, fans that I helped to make, that love West Ham just like me. Or maybe, just maybe, a little more…

CALLING ALL HAMMERS – WANTED: TWO tickets to watch Team GB at Wembley in 2012 Olympics in exchange for a RARE mint condition West ham United Carling Cup programme v Aldershot postponed tie on August 3 2011. Ring 07949122789.