Football’s festive period is now almost at a close and for those of you like me who support teams struggling to keep their heads above water at the bottom end of the table, it’s not a time for celebration.
With two games played in the space of three days and the season reaching its halfway point, the Christmas fixtures are often said to make or break seasons. This year late fightbacks from Arsenal, Chelsea and Manchester United have kept them on track for the title, when defeat could have potentially led them way off course. Portsmouth’s Boxing Day defeat means survival for the south coast club is about as likely as their players receiving their wages this month, whilst Steven Gerrard FC, sorry, Liverpool’s laboured victory over Wolves keeps their thinning hopes of a successful season just about alive.
My own team West Ham endured mixed fortunes over the festive period. In fact, it’s hard to remember a time when our fortunes were anything other than mixed. We have spent the last few seasons signing talented players only to see them see out their contracts on the treatment table. We’ve produced precocious youngsters, only to wave goodbye to them as they seek fame and fortune at bigger, more glamorous establishments. And we’ve won plaudits for an outstanding performance in a cup final, only to board the coach back home with runners up, and not winners medals. If we were a child on Christmas Day, we’d have received the best remote controlled car in the world, only for our Dad to have forgotten to buy any batteries.
This Christmas, we won a dull but vital encounter against Portsmouth, and lost a dull, but vital and eventually painful match against Spurs. The three day period was a microcosm of what supporting a football team is all about. The high experienced after winning the season’s earliest relegation six-pointer was no match for the low I felt as we crumbled against our local rivals, and I prepared for the abusive texts from Spurs-supporting friends to flood in.
To compound our misery, the influential Scott Parker hobbled out of the Spurs game early on, and was followed to the treatment table by our left-back Herita Ilunga. If that wasn’t enough, our sole remaining senior forward, Guillermo Franco picked up a booking that will see him suspended for the next game. Things are so bad, I’m pretty sure I am just one more hamstring pull away from a call up to the squad.
So with our squad falling to pieces, it would be easy to argue that playing two games in such quick succession is too much to ask of today’s footballers. Other leagues such as those in Spain and Italy do not have a Christmas schedule, and many of the foreign managers and players in the Premier League are baffled by our expectation that players forgo board games with the family and piles of turkey leftovers in order to play fixtures on Boxing Day.
But football at Christmas is one of the few things in modern football that is retained for the sake of the fans. Whilst some families choose to spend Boxing Day visiting distant relatives, any self-respecting fan will know the only rightful place for them to be is in their regular seat at the ground, proudly sporting their new Christmas knitwear and cheering on their team.
Unsurprisingly for West Ham, I’ve had some excellent days at football on Boxing Day, as well as some downright terrible ones. Consecutive 5-0 and 4-0 wins over Charlton and Derby respectively were particular highlights, whilst a visit to Fratton Park to witness a drab 1-1 draw remains a low point. In fact, that trip to Portsmouth was not just a low point as a football fan, but in my life in general. Take your pick from the five hour round trip, 1960s standard facilities, arctic weather and terrible football match as to what made it such a bad experience.
But whilst talk of a winter break continues to be whispered in the corridors of power at the Premier League, the Christmas fixtures simply have to stay. The fans look forward to them more than games played over any other period of the season, and a lot of terrific football is often played – with teams trying to make the most of injury-hit squads and looking to end the calendar year on a high. Ambitious and simply fed-up players will often reserve their best performances of the season for the festive period too – with the transfer window just about to be creaked open.
In fact, it could be argued that the season really starts here. As we head into the New Year, the countdown to the end of the season seems to tick that little bit quicker and the collective loosening of ties at both the top and bottom of the table begins. With my own club’s squad decimated by injuries and our finances looking like they’ve been managed by Nick Leeson with a hangover, I only hope that 2010 brings some good fortune both on and off the pitch.
Subscribe To (Claret and) Blue Monday
Posts
All Comments
Monday, 28 December 2009
Monday, 7 December 2009
Fortune always hiding
Saturday was my nephew’s first birthday party, and what a joyous occasion it was. There were kids crying, kids laughing and then crying, kids playing with toys and then kids crying with toys.
Fun was had by all, but something completely of my own doing made me feel very sorry for little Archie – I’d bought him a West Ham kit for a present. In years to come, he will curse me for signing him up to follow this purveyor of disappointment that likes to masquerade as a football club. Hopefully though, he’ll also eventually understand that I had no choice, just like he doesn’t either.
In any football following family, new entrants are restricted to two options when it comes to deciding who to support; following the team that the rest of the family supports, or not following football at all.
There can be no period of analysis where primary school children take a couple of years to watch the 92 league teams England has to offer, before making a calculated decision on who to follow based on style of football, chances of success and the quality of the matchday pies. No, you are born into a football club – instructed to give your unconditional love to the team of your family.
Usually, this will be the team closest to your Dad or Granddad’s family home. Unfortunately for Archie, he has drawn the footballing short straw and his family are from East London and therefore has no choice but to follow West Ham.
On the day of his first birthday and the donning of his first replica shirt, Archie’s now beloved West Ham were soundly beaten 4-0 at home by Manchester United. Both his father and uncle were there to witness the massacre, and in just a few short years Archie will be able to experience the full horror of being a hammer all for himself.
You might think it cruel that we subject the boy to a life of such misery. Couldn’t we give him the choice? Maybe he’d prefer to support Arsenal or Spurs? What if he doesn’t like football? Well first of all, supporting Arsenal or Spurs is simply not an option. Nor is supporting Chelsea, Leyton Orient, Crystal Palace or anyone else in, or outside of the M25 who is not called “West Ham United”. And secondly, the idea that he might not like football is perfectly realistic, but far, far too frightening a thought for any of us to seriously contemplate at this stage.
But most importantly, it’s his duty. I don’t mean that in a clichéd Peggy Mitchell style “families stick together” way. No, what I really mean is that all the rest of us have had to endure over 20 years plus of abject football poverty, so too can Archie. He might get lucky after all. In the 27 years prior to my birth, West Ham had won the FA Cup three times, the Cup Winner’s Cup once and of course, the World Cup in 1966. The most purple of all purple patches in the club’s history. However, since my birth we have lost an FA Cup final and got relegated three times.
So we’re all hoping that Archie’s arrival into the welcoming arms of the West Ham family will mark the beginning of a new era of success. Deep down we know it probably won’t, but for Archie’s sake alone, I genuinely hope it does. And even if he suffers in the same way as I have, being a Hammer will be good for him in the long run.
By supporting West Ham, he will quickly learn that you can’t have everything in life, and pretty soon after that will also learn that you actually can’t have much at all. He will become a world-renowned expert in false dawns, and will develop the spirit that will see him live through the bad times as well as the slightly less bad times. But he will also find out that sometimes it’s good to have a bit of excitement and not just go through the motions. And perhaps most importantly, he’ll soon realise that if you’re not going to be very successful at what you do, you might as well look bloody good whilst you’re doing it.
Fun was had by all, but something completely of my own doing made me feel very sorry for little Archie – I’d bought him a West Ham kit for a present. In years to come, he will curse me for signing him up to follow this purveyor of disappointment that likes to masquerade as a football club. Hopefully though, he’ll also eventually understand that I had no choice, just like he doesn’t either.
In any football following family, new entrants are restricted to two options when it comes to deciding who to support; following the team that the rest of the family supports, or not following football at all.
There can be no period of analysis where primary school children take a couple of years to watch the 92 league teams England has to offer, before making a calculated decision on who to follow based on style of football, chances of success and the quality of the matchday pies. No, you are born into a football club – instructed to give your unconditional love to the team of your family.
Usually, this will be the team closest to your Dad or Granddad’s family home. Unfortunately for Archie, he has drawn the footballing short straw and his family are from East London and therefore has no choice but to follow West Ham.
On the day of his first birthday and the donning of his first replica shirt, Archie’s now beloved West Ham were soundly beaten 4-0 at home by Manchester United. Both his father and uncle were there to witness the massacre, and in just a few short years Archie will be able to experience the full horror of being a hammer all for himself.
You might think it cruel that we subject the boy to a life of such misery. Couldn’t we give him the choice? Maybe he’d prefer to support Arsenal or Spurs? What if he doesn’t like football? Well first of all, supporting Arsenal or Spurs is simply not an option. Nor is supporting Chelsea, Leyton Orient, Crystal Palace or anyone else in, or outside of the M25 who is not called “West Ham United”. And secondly, the idea that he might not like football is perfectly realistic, but far, far too frightening a thought for any of us to seriously contemplate at this stage.
But most importantly, it’s his duty. I don’t mean that in a clichéd Peggy Mitchell style “families stick together” way. No, what I really mean is that all the rest of us have had to endure over 20 years plus of abject football poverty, so too can Archie. He might get lucky after all. In the 27 years prior to my birth, West Ham had won the FA Cup three times, the Cup Winner’s Cup once and of course, the World Cup in 1966. The most purple of all purple patches in the club’s history. However, since my birth we have lost an FA Cup final and got relegated three times.
So we’re all hoping that Archie’s arrival into the welcoming arms of the West Ham family will mark the beginning of a new era of success. Deep down we know it probably won’t, but for Archie’s sake alone, I genuinely hope it does. And even if he suffers in the same way as I have, being a Hammer will be good for him in the long run.
By supporting West Ham, he will quickly learn that you can’t have everything in life, and pretty soon after that will also learn that you actually can’t have much at all. He will become a world-renowned expert in false dawns, and will develop the spirit that will see him live through the bad times as well as the slightly less bad times. But he will also find out that sometimes it’s good to have a bit of excitement and not just go through the motions. And perhaps most importantly, he’ll soon realise that if you’re not going to be very successful at what you do, you might as well look bloody good whilst you’re doing it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)