All my life, people outside my friends and family have wondered why I’m a West Ham fan. First things first I’m not actually from East London, nor have I ever lived there, and clearly I’m not a glory supporter! I’m from a sleepy Dorset town which at school seemed to be a breeding ground for Manchester United and Liverpool fans, despite the accents being more Wurzels than Cool Britannia. So why West Ham?
Well as a youngster I first really found football around 1985. Already, Manchester United, Liverpool and T*ttenham seemed to be every child my age’s favourite clubs. Not being able to decide on a team, I remember one day being told by my Dad: ‘You should like West Ham like me’ and from that day on West Ham were my club, simple peer pressure was all it took. But this was just the beginning. As a 6 year old I remember us beating Newcastle 8-1 and writing a report on it at school. Not just a story about it, but a full length match report complete with goalscorers, substitutions and incident. The fact Glenn Roeder scored an own goal made me think, even at an impressionable age, that he wouldn’t fit in at West Ham.
Peer pressure alone however wasn’t enough for this young lad to support a club. History was drummed into me about Bobby Moore, Billy Bonds and Trevor Brooking, amongst others, from an early age. Whilst I was hearing about Bryan Robson (not ‘Pop’) and Kenny Dalglish, I was gleefully countering with stories of 1966 and West Ham winning the World Cup. Also, we had McCavennie, fast becoming the pin-up of British football.
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Years passed though and we weren’t winning anything. A couple promotions and the occasional cup run was nothing compared to the glory supporters. But whilst some of them only wore their colours when they were winning, my claret and blue always stayed firmly on. It may not have been the most popular shirt, and on occasions not the prettiest (Pony 93-99) but I never stopped wearing it. Even if Villa have the same colours, you stand out in a Hammers shirt. I remember the times I’ve worn it with eyes coldly glaring at me. After costing Manchester United the title in 95 being most memorable.
There’s also something about West Ham that gives you heroes you don’t get at other clubs. Growing up I had more than enough to make an impression on me. McCavennie, Cottee, Ludo, Dicksy, Mad Dog, Bishop. All bringing something different, but all bringing joy to a young hammer. Enough joy to keep me from even seeking out another club. Whilst these guys were never adorning posters on the walls of many Dorset youths, these blokes were my idols and on the posters I wanted. Them and Jet from Gladiators.
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So whilst other boys and girls growing up had the chance to watch their team win trophies, I chose to go for the not so easy route and actually support a team that had a feeling of passion. Any success we have is so much sweeter. Our fans are some of the best in the country without fail and I’m so proud to be one. The family feel of our club, unlike success and world superstars, cannot be bought, and of all the reasons I keep coming back, that has to be the main one.
Keep blowing bubbles.
