The reason I’m a Hammer

When meeting new people at university the immediate question you ask (if it is a male) after finding out their name is what team do you support? The responses are mixed but in the main the majority are “Manchester United”, “Arsenal” or “Chelsea”. I proudly announce West Ham United. But why I hear you ask. How did I fall into this trap of pain and frustration? I’ll take this opportunity to explain my fate.

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Being born into a family where my father was a Hammer and my mother a Gooner I had to make a decision at an early age. Although I suspect that decision was helped by the West Ham pyjamas and West Ham teddy. I’m sure psychologically somewhere along the line the decision was made for me by my father.

At school as a young Hammer, being with school kids who supported United, Spurs, Chelsea, I was pleased to be different. I’d turns up to football practise in my full West Ham kit and stick out like a sore thumb. Mind you there were a few Hammers around my neck of the woods.

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But it was my first game that hooked me in. I remember walking up to my seats for the first time, seeing the green grass of the pitch and the mumbles around the ground as the rush to get to the seats before kick-off started. The game in question West Ham 5 Bradford 4, a game that was so typically West Ham I should have known then to run to my mum and support le Arse.

The line-up that day included a young Frank Lampard and Joe Cole and Rio Ferdinand, not bad eh? This is still one of the most remarkable games I have ever witnessed. An early leg break saw Shaka Hislop be replaced by young whipper snapper Stephen Bywater came on for his debut. For one of the worst debut I have ever seen. He couldn’t catch a cold let alone a ball, and struggling Bradford took the lead through Dean Windass (remember him?), to the groan of the Hammers faithful on a cold February day.

In a game that twisted and turned it was the Hammers who drew next blood with a quick-fire brace of goals from Sinclair and Moncur respectively. The home faithful believed again and the noise was deafening, the atmosphere that day hooked me completely. And now it’s me who is making all the noise.

But the game will most be remembered by one of the most abject refereeing displays by Mr Barry. So much so the ever entertaining Paolo Di Canio sat down in front of Redknapp refusing to play a moment that many a Hammer will never forget. After being refused three penalties, the Hammers were finally awarded one for a foul on substitute Paul Kitson. An argument between the youthful Lampard and Di Canio was one of the funniest things witnessed on a playing field; it was like two kids on a playground. Di Canio won the fight and promptly smashed home his penalty. Lampard got him goal in the end as he sealed the 3 points in a pulsating game. From that moment on I’ve been a proud Hammer through the ups and the downs.

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When I first signed up for my season ticket 2 years ago, typically West Ham produced one of their most abject seasons. The Hammers were promptly relegated and Avram Grant was sacked. The first dip on my roller coaster as a season ticket holder, but as we ratchet our way back up following Wembley success to the start we’ve made this season, let’s just hope we aren’t plummeted back down anytime soon, because it’s just far too fun at the moment.

So why West Ham? It’s the tradition, the fans, the atmosphere, the constant roller-coaster of emotions. You can’t beat a match day with West Ham, it’s the burger smells, the “Hat, Scarfs and Badges” shouts as you walk down Green Street, the sing song as you leave the ground after 3 points, the pre match drink in the Black Lion, it’s the people around you, you build a rapport with. It’s magical. It’s West Ham.

Come on you Irons!

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