Football and West Ham have been off our screens and less in our minds for a few months due to the coronavirus pandemic that has flooded the world. But it won’t be for much longer and West Ham will be back in the next few weeks.
The excitement, the dread, the denial, the optimism, or shall I say the blind optimism, all the things that go with supporting West Ham United. All Hammers fans and I have been without these emotions for what could be defined as a small eternity.
It’s been what seems like forever since getting on a train and meeting my dad to go to Stratford, seeing the famous Orbit and one of the biggest screens in European football. This would be followed by walking into the queues to get through the poorly managed security to get into the London Stadium. (Oh, how I’ve missed the hassle).
It seems like longer since being sat down in the familiar seat after a beer in the concourse and a nosey around the club shop. Longer still feeling the rumble of Hammers fans predicting how many goals the visiting team will score.
It’s been a different age since all that worry would disappear as West Ham emerged from the tunnel. The famous bubbles would burst out from around the stadium. Sixty thousand fans in unison believing their team would perform a miracle and play like champions. Sometimes it would happen too!
Our heroes, there will always be some. Whether it’s Di Canio an explosive Italian capable of anything, the mercurial Dimitri Payet standing over a free-kick as if it was a penalty. Now we have Pablo Fornals our Spanish magician, Sebastien Haller the French battler and Robert Snodgrass the Scottish Messi. We will return to sing their names.
The thrill of bulldog Jarrod Bowen on the wing, the passion of Mr West Ham Mark Noble commanding his men, the promise of our future Bobby Moore in Declan Rice and our goals protector Lukasz Fabianski, and David Moyes, the ‘Moyesiah’, returning to save us from the drop. All these things will excite us fans once more.
The frustration of Michail Antonio charging through the enemy ranks and blast the ball into the stratosphere, I will never condemn it again. Watching some player in the twilight of his years turn as slow as a grandfather clock, I won’t get angry now I will smirk and exhale “oh well“.
These experiences for fans will have to wait a bit longer sadly, but in the meantime, we can band together and support West Ham from the comfort of our own home. One day soon we will return to the terraces and sing our hearts out.
Come on you Irons!