Nearly Reach the Sky (4 page)

15.00:
The mood is still sombre as the game starts. I've never heard ‘Bubbles' sung with less enthusiasm.

15.02:
The team starts brightly and Stewart Downing gets a shot away. He's not scored all season and is the subject of a sarcastic piece I've written for the latest edition of
Blowing Bubbles.
If he keeps this up he's going to make a monkey of me today.

15.05:
All the noise is coming from the Palace end. A section of the East Stand Lower tries to counter, but they're fighting a lone battle.

15.08:
Andy Carroll gets his head to a Kevin Nolan cross. For a moment it looks like his effort is destined for the top corner, but it goes just over. The reaction from the West Ham supporters is strangely muted. The Palace fans are asking if anyone can hear West Ham sing. It seems they can't hear a bloomin' thing.

15.11:
Mark Noble plays a fabulous ball that allows Matt Jarvis to get to the byline and pull back a wicked cross. Carroll and Nolan are hunting as a pair on the edge of the 6-yard box, but the ball somehow eludes them. More of that please, lads.

15.14:
Nolan concedes a corner, which produces a goal-bound header. Carroll blocks it clumsily, and the East Stand Upper breathes a collective sigh of relief.

15.17:
Carroll fouls Mile Jedinak in midfield. The Palace man does well not to make more of it. The West Ham support remains hushed. The Palace fans have been inquiring politely if this is a library.

15.18:
Palace miss a great chance to take the lead as central defender Scott Dann fails to make the most of a one-on-one aerial contest with diminutive full-back Pablo Armero on the edge of our 6-yard box.

15.19:
They take the resultant corner short while the West Ham defence has a little doze. Adrián Mariappa accepts the invitation to enter our penalty area without let or hindrance and has a pop from 12 yards. Kevin Nolan throws his body in the way. Did he stop that with his arm? It looks horribly like a penalty to me.

15.22:
Palace's Yannick Bolasie goes down after a robust challenge by Armero. And he stays down. Many of those in claret and blue believe he's making a meal of it. At least it gives us something to shout about.

15.26:
Bolasie has recovered sufficiently to set up another Palace attack.

15.27:
That's more like it! Mohamed Diamé cuts inside and has a dig with his right foot from outside the box. Palace keeper Julian Speroni tips it over easily enough.

15.28:
Palace defend the corner well and break rapidly. Armero is quick to get across and cover, but is forced to put the ball out in front of the Bobby Moore Stand. That's Palace's fifth corner in less than half an hour.

15.29:
Diamé gives Palace their sixth corner, swiftly followed by a seventh as Downing heads behind. We haven't defended set pieces at all well this season, and you can feel the jitters in the stand.

15.30:
Bolasie's getting booed every time he touches the ball. He goes down easily, takes the free kick and makes a hash of it – earning himself the ‘who are you?' treatment.

15.31:
The West Ham support has gone back into its shell. Carroll is sent crashing in the Palace box by Jedinak. FFS ref, that's got to be a pen!

15.33:
Winston Reid is up-ended in his own half. The howls of protest prompt the Palace fans into taunting us with: ‘We forgot that you were here.'

15.35:
We remind them of our presence as there's an outbreak of activity in the Palace area. Diamé's shot is saved. Nolan scrambles the ball wide to Downing, who crosses for Carroll. It's a bullet of a header, but Speroni saves brilliantly. That really should have been 1–0. The effort prompts a decent rendition of ‘Bubbles' at last.

15.38:
It's the thirty-eighth minute and, in recognition of his squad number, West Ham supporters all around the ground are on their feet and applauding the memory of Dylan Tombides. What a tragedy. The poor kid had battled with cancer for three years. It's said he had limitless potential. Few of us in the ground had seen him play – his only appearance for West Ham was as an eighty-fourth minute sub in a League Cup tie against Wigan. But that, of course, is not the point. Football more important than life and death? I don't think so.

15.39:
Carroll gets in another header but it's off target.

15.46:
After a minute of added time, referee Martin Atkinson calls a halt to proceedings. Palace leave to huge cheers from their travelling support. The home fans keep our thoughts to ourselves.

15.50:
No half-time beer, no provocative texts to Mark and no great expectations for the next forty-five minutes. Geoff and I chat quietly. It's agreed we'll have to play better in the second half if we're going to win this.

16.02:
Palace show their intent as Mariappa clatters into Noble. The Palace man is wearing a face mask to protect his broken nose. A bloke on my left dubs him Tonto. That's wrong for all sorts of reasons, but it's the first time I've smiled in over an hour.

16.05:
George McCartney is booked for pulling back Bolasie. Poor old Linda has been asked to play out of position, and he's struggling. Still the West Ham support lacks its usual passion. It's as if the Tombides tragedy has affected us all.

16.12:
Carroll tries his luck with a left shot from outside the box, but it is saved easily. That's his third unconvincing attempt in just over five minutes. You can sense the growing frustration around the ground.

16.14:
Palace win a penalty as Armero brings down Cameron Jerome. To my left, the Lone Ranger reckons the decision is ‘bollocks'. Hmmm. I think you'll find, Kemosabe, that is a stonewall pen.

16.15:
Jedinak smashes the ball past Adrian's right hand into the top corner.

16.16:
We kick off again and the home support demands a fightback with a united chorus of ‘Bubbles'. There's some real passion in that.

16.19:
Downing tries his luck and wins a corner. It comes to nothing.

16.26:
Palace are outplaying us. Manager Sam Allardyce has to do something about this. Carlton Cole is about to come on. Fair enough. But it's Matt Jarvis who's getting the hook – and he's been our most effective player. ‘You don't know what you're doing,' Allardyce is told by representatives from all four sides of Upton Park.

16.30:
Some people have had enough and are heading for the exits.

16.32:
Joe Cole comes on for Stewart Downing. Having started with two out-and-out wingers we've now gone 4–4–2 with a pair of giant strikers and no obvious wide men to supply the crosses. Interesting.

16.36:
The exodus begins in earnest. ‘Is there a fire drill?' ask the Palace fans. This is precisely the abuse we dish out as away fans. Now we have to sit and take it. It's seriously humiliating.

16.43:
After a flurry of substitutions on both sides, Palace bring on former Hammer Danny Gabbidon. I'm pleased that those of us still in our seats give him a decent reception.

16.46:
The sign goes up to say there are four extra minutes.

16.50:
Carroll is fouled outside the Palace area. He wants to go for goal himself but Noble rightly talks him out of it. This is it, our last chance. Noble floats the ball in, Carroll goes for it … and the whole thing peters out.

16.51:
The final whistle. The Palace players are saluted as heroes from their end of their ground. West Ham troop off with their tails between their legs and jeers of derision in their ears.

16.52:
My phone tells me I have a message. I know who it's from, but read it anyway. Mark is thanking me for the three points. Worse still, he's being nice about it. He reckons that, according to the reports he's heard, we should have won 5–1. I must have been watching a different game.

17.03:
We've escaped the ground and are on Priory Road. David has suggested we join him in the Black Lion, but neither Geoff nor I have much of an appetite for an inquest. We decide to head off to East Ham station.

17.05:
We turn into the Barking Road with some serious punditry going on all around us. One middle-aged guy in a hooded fleece and denims tells his similarly clad mates what they already know – if you can't score goals you don't win football matches. But there is more than mere cliché to be heard if you listen carefully. We're predictable; easy to defend against; too ready to hoof the long ball forward if there isn't an obvious pass to be made in midfield. This is a crowd that has been brought up on crisp passing, triangles and a third man running. It knows what it is talking about.

17.15:
On the junction of the Barking Road and the high street, the pull of the Denmark Arms proves too strong. I really fancy a pint after the way we've just played.

17.30:
Tucked in the corner by the pool tables, Geoff and I check the results from other games. It is still mathematically possible to go down, but the chances are we won't. A run of four straight wins in February, followed by victories against Hull and Sunderland before the present slump set in, are probably enough to see us safe. Fulham have lost, Cardiff could only draw at home and both Sunderland and Norwich have tough fixtures ahead of them. There's got to be more to football than avoiding relegation by the skin of your teeth every year, though.

17.38:
‘Dreadlock Holiday' comes on the jukebox and I try to console myself with the thought that the cricket season will soon be in full swing. But for someone who has the fortunes of Surrey and England close to their heart, there's not an awful lot of consolation to be had there.

17.55:
We call it a day after just one pint and make for East Ham station. This is not a prosperous area, but there's more to the high street than Poundland and payday lenders. You can still buy a book, get some keys cut and shop for your supper without having to get on a bus. And it doesn't have the ever-growing number of homeless people sleeping rough that affluent Brighton steps over on its way home.

18.03:
The District line train has plenty of spare seats and we grab a couple, knowing there won't be many left after Upton Park and Plaistow.

18.35:
We get to Blackfriars just in time to see the Brighton train pull out from the mainline station. The ticket barrier guy jokes
that the driver didn't wait because he could see we were West Ham supporters. I counter with the suggestion that if he did know who we support, he'd have taken pity on us after the day we've just had.

18.50:
The next train to Brighton – and we're on it. Not that it was an unpleasant wait; Blackfriars station spans the river now, and the views are terrific. It's easy to forget what a majestic city London is.

19.10:
We pass through Crystal Palace station without stopping. South London is not majestic.

19.12:
Geoff is reading – I decide to treat myself to a game of Hearts on my phone. Simple, mindless pleasure. Unlike the card game I got involved in on a football special many years ago. Was it Hull? No – that's where they ambushed us at the station. It was somewhere north, though. I was travelling alone and had bagged a window seat with a table at Euston when I was joined by some lads about my age. They produced a pack of cards and asked if I fancied joining them in a friendly game of Pontoon. It wasn't so friendly half an hour later when most of their money was piled up in front of me. In fact, the atmosphere around the table was distinctly hostile. The game was gathering a crowd. Winning was bad enough. Doing so in front of amused spectators was worse. I was clearly lining myself up for a good kicking. There's no nice way of putting this: these boys were all monumentally stupid. I tried to let them win their money back. I would twist on nineteen and get the two of hearts. Or I'd stick on fourteen and they'd keep twisting until they bust. I don't think they could count up to twenty-one between them. But I suspected they were all good at fighting. In the end I managed to lose enough
of my winnings to live to tell the tale. I remember I travelled back in a different carriage. Who the hell did we play that day?

19.23:
The Hearts game completed, I turn to my crumpled copy of
Over Land and Sea
(Issue No. 583; Price £2.50). The cover is excellent – it's a
Sgt Pepper's
mock-up, with Sam Allardyce behind the bass drum and a collection of West Ham faces, past and present. I count forty-nine in all. But where's Christian Dailly? I want curly hair, too. I like
OLAS
. It doesn't worry much about spelling and punctuation, but it also doesn't pull any punches. It's had enough of Allardyce and his style of football. It doesn't much care for West Ham's vice-chairman Karren Brady, either. As I say, I like
OLAS
.

20.25:
It's good to be home. A glass of red now and supper soon. Di's doing Mexican.
Viva fajitas!

22.30:
No one is interested in
Match of the Day
tonight. We check out the movie channels instead.

23.30:
The eyelids are getting heavy. I fear this film is going to join the long list of those whose ending will remain unknown to me for evermore.

00.20:
I awake on the couch to discover my concerns were fully justified. But who cares? There will be always be another movie. Just as there will always be another match day. Sure, we lost. Much of the football was pretty forgettable, to be honest. That doesn't stop you going again, though, does it? The game aside, it was a great day out: a chance to spend some time with my one of my
kids; quality banter with mates; a couple of beers; a whole range of emotions; a chance to relive past glories – what more could anyone want (other than three points and a team capable of passing the ball to one another)? Win, lose or draw, there'll always be another day at Upton Park. Only there won't, will there? Not when we've gone to Stratford.