Confessions Of A Neutral Supporter Part Three

Even though Upton Park is practically on my doorstep, it’s very rare that I go to see a game there. I don’t believe you can really have a ‘second team’, and if I did, I’d have chosen one a little cheaper and easier to get into.
However, Ted’s mate, Steve, is a second team man, dividing his loyalties between Aston Villa and Darlo, which is why we’re off to West Ham v Villa, even though he’ll be sitting in the away end and we’re with the home fans. I have been in with the Villa before now, though, which is a vastly entertaining experience. The more agitated they get, the higher pitched their cries of ‘Come on, Villa!’ become, until they reach a level only dogs can hear...
But before the excitement of the match, I meet up with the boys in the Palm Tree in Mile End Park. They’ve already visited the Approach and the Eleanor Arms, which Ted is very impressed with having bonded with the landlord (a big CAMRA man and a dead ringer for Ricky Gervaise, apparently), and treated themselves to pie and mash on the Roman Road. Some of us, however, have to pace ourselves.
Ted and I have got seats in the East Stand at the Boleyn Ground, what was the old ‘Chicken Run’. It’s the only part of the ground which hasn’t been modernised, meaning that there’s not a great deal of leg room and people have to squeeze past us to get to their seats on the rows behind, as the stairway runs out just by us. This leads Ted into a general round of chuntering about ‘safe all-seater stadiums’, but I’m too busy watching the pre-match build-up to pay much attention. Fortunately, the Hammerettes cheerleading troupe seem to have bitten the dust; instead, the club’s two mascots, Herbie the Hammer and a bear whose name escapes me but is no way as cool as Miller Bear (unless it CAN drive a hovercraft) are wandering around, the half-dozen tiny mascots are being put through a very intensive coaching routine and Villa’s keepers are being warmed up by former Rotherham custodian Seamus McDonagh, the most Irish man ever to come from Canklow.
When the teams come out, they go through the ritual of lining up and shaking hands under an official Premier League canopy, though what this adds to the matchday experience I have no idea. As the line-ups are read out, I’m struck by quite how many of them I’ve seen play for various teams against Rotherham, including Matthew Upson, Carlton Cole, Steve Sidwell, Nigel Reo-Coker, Richard Dunne, Emile Heskey and Rob Green. When Alan Curbishley was managing West Ham and there were accusations of there being a materialistic, ‘Baby Bentley’ culture at the club, Green was quoted as saying that side of football wasn’t of any interest to him. So I won’t mention the time he was directly behind my friend, Pam, and me in a queue of traffic in Norwich, driving a big, black, shiny eff-off 4x4 with all the trimmings...
As the first half progresses, it soon becomes clear why West Ham were in the bottom three at the start of play. They’re playing like a group of individuals, rather than a team: they have the flash haircuts and boots and, striker Franco in particular, seem to fancy themselves as being that little bit better than they actually are. They also succeed in making Heskey, playing wide on the left, look as though he’s got silky skills. Villa, in contrast, stroke the ball around, and have two players in Ashley Young and Gabby Agbonlahor who can break at pace, though Agbonlahor, playing on the shoulder of the last defender, is regularly caught offside. Their fans are noisy and boisterous, with a song for just about every player. They also like to tell the West Ham fans where they can stick their bubbles, and have a couple of chants which prove swearing is neither big nor clever but can be funny. Villa force Green into making two smart saves which rouse the home fans into a chorus of ‘England’s number one’, about the only noise they’ve made all half. In contrast, Brad Friedel only has one fairly tame shot to stop.
West Ham’s cause isn’t helped by the fact they have to make a couple of substitutions. First Ilunga, who aided and abetted in Kenwyne Jones getting sent off at the weekend by pretending to be more badly hurt than he actually was, pulls something in the back of his leg and limps off. Karma, it’s a bitch. Then Carlton Cole has to come off, replaced by Zavon Hines. Even so, they create nothing until stoppage time. Hines gets the ball in what appears to be an offside position, runs into the box and is brought down. Mark Noble fires the resulting penalty high into the net. The crowd, who have been quiet as mice, suddenly start giving it large, and West Ham go in at half-time with an undeserved lead.
At half-time, a couple of Australian rugby players are interviewed pitchside to general indifference, but the players seem to be back out on the pitch nice and early.
Villa are handed a chance to get back into the game within a few minutes, when they’re awarded a penalty for climbing in the box. It’s not a great kick, though, and Rob Green saves it easily. The West Ham fans are now getting a bit cocky, but they’re silenced when Ashley Young curls a superb shot past Green from wide on the right. After that, the tempo seems to drop, with more than a few carthorse moments from each side. Reo-Coker replaces Heskey, and is roundly booed whenever he touches the ball. Then Habib Beye (about whom the Newcastle fans used to sing, brilliantly, ‘Sunday, Monday, Habib Beye’) brings down Jonathan Spector, who’s running a speed. Spector manages to fit in the full 360-degree roll before he touches the ground; Beye gets a second yellow and is off. Villa drop deeper to compensate, West Ham bring on Luis Jiminez, possessor of possibly the worst hair in the Premier League (and yes, I am including Fellaini at Everton in that list) but even then it still looks like the game is going to peter out into a draw. Then, in the third minute of four added on, Hines weaves his way past a couple of defenders to score the winner. Again, it isn’t really deserved, but the Hammers fans go mad and the first song to come on the Tannoy (after the night’s third, inevitable rendition of ‘Bubbles’) is Muse’s ‘Uprising', with its chorus of 'we shall be victorious’. Just rub it in, why don’t you? Though I'm sure even the most bumptious fan walking away from the ground will acknowledge that though the win was welcome, it’s only papering over some serious cracks.
Outside, we meet up with Steve to offer consolation, and then we do the only thing you can in the circumstances, which is go and get a curry. Needless to say, it goes down much better than the result...