WEST HAM UNITED

‘I’m forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air.’

West Ham fans’ anthem – a surprisingly gentle choice, I’ve always thought

‘The crowds at West Ham haven’t been rewarded by results, but they keep turning up because of the good football they see.’

RON GREENWOOD manager, 1961–1974 (not any more they don’t, Ron, not any more)

I want to reassure West Ham fans from the start that this chapter will contain no reference to the acquisition of the London Olympic Stadium by your club. Apart from that one, obviously. And I’m not saying that just so I can very cleverly lull you into a false sense of security before ambushing you with a lecture on taxpayers’ money. Your club is owned by people whose reputation is based on a lifetime of making shrewd deals, so we can hardly be surprised if they took advantage of the situation to get you that massive stadium at a bargain price.‡

I’d have been delighted if Steve Parish had done the same thing. Well, not delighted, it’s a bloody long way away from where I live, but you know what I mean. I do, however, have one complaint to make about your new stadium. It ain’t Upton Park, is it? Now, that was a stadium. If I was there as an away fan or as a broadcaster, the hairs on the back of my neck would always tingle as you lot belted out ‘Bubbles’ at the top of your voice. Although it has to be said, there was less actual fear in the tingle when I was there as a broadcaster.

Yes, I know that technically it was the Boleyn Ground, but if Upton Park was good enough for Brian Moore it’s good enough for me. Besides, it was called the Boleyn Ground after a grand house nearby that was known as Boleyn’s Castle, because Anne Boleyn lived there. Only she didn’t, and couldn’t have because it didn’t exist when that poor soul was Queen of England. As a history buff I insist on historical accuracy at all times, if not necessarily in all the chapters of this book.

Whatever it was called, it was the only ground I ever went to that I actually didn’t dislike. In fact, if you took Selhurst Park out of the equation, it would be my favourite ground. Admittedly, the bits outside the ground could be a touch hazardous, but inside, it was grand. Intimidating, but grand.

Most West Ham fans still miss it, but there are contrary voices. My old chum, TV sports presenter and uber-cockney-even-though-he’s-from Kent, Mark Webster, has been going dahn the ’ammers since he was knee-high to a jellied eel.* He reckons the nostalgia is ‘sentimental bollocks’ and as soon as West Ham start winning, the fans will stop moaning about the stadium.

His three boys, Jamie, Mark and Luke, are much more emotional/angry about it, though. I went to a cup game at West Ham with them a few days ago (purely for research, Palace weren’t playing) and they told me they still yearn for Upton Park and the rituals that went with it. One of them (I can’t remember which; we drank a lot of ‘research’) said: ‘The worst thing is, it’s like starting again. Grandad went with his dad, dad went with Grandad, we went with Dad. Our kids will never know that world, that legacy, they’ll only know this posh bollocks.’

Some of you will be thinking ‘they only know a warm, comfortable stadium with good views and decent catering, that’s good’. And some of you will understand.

The club has never strayed far from its roots (well, until now; the new stadium is metaphorically so far from its roots it’s in a different garden) and Upton Park was full of people I reckon probably hadn’t strayed more than a couple of miles from home to get there.

Those roots were the Thames Ironworks, a shipbuilding yard on the Thames, run by Mr Arnold Hills. In 1895, Mr Hills encouraged, or allowed, his men to start a football team as a way of letting off steam, which hopefully amused those men whose job was actually letting off steam. Not long afterwards, Mr Hills paid £2,000 to move the club from the homely little cinder heap they had been playing on to a massive stadium called the Memorial Recreation Ground. It’s a familiar story, isn’t it? Except they paid for it, not the taxpayer.

Problem was that the new stadium helped get them elected into the Southern League and, to survive there, they needed their players to be professional. This Mr Hills did not like. No one seems to know whether it was because he was horrified by the very idea of professionalism or whether it meant he would lose half of his best boilermakers and a welder or two if they became full-time footballers, but whatever the reason, he was angry enough to stop bankrolling the team.

They disbanded in June 1900 and reformed in July 1900 as West Ham United. There are those who insist that the club history should only start from that date, but there are also people who insist that Upton Park was the Boleyn Ground and that acquiring a new stadium cut-price was a fair deal for all. Last time I mention it, I promise.

Also, fans still call themselves ‘Hammers’ and ‘Irons’, so why would you want to deny the heritage that supplied those names? I accept that ‘Hammers’ may derive from West Ham, but the giant hammers on the badge look like working ones to me.

‘Hammers’ and ‘bubbles’ has always seemed an odd combination. Sadly, the former make a lot more sense than the latter. The song was first heard in a Broadway musical in 1918, but no one knows why West Ham fans sing it. They may have had a player nicknamed ‘Bubbles’ because he looked like the boy in an advert for soap. They may have copied it from Swansea fans. It may have been a morale-booster in East End Tube stations during the Blitz. The only truth is: it really works. God knows why, the lyrics are terrible.

Of course, the really big year for West Ham was 1966. That was the year they won the World Cup. Not that they go on about it or anything. In fact, I’d say there was at least one square metre of wall in the Press Room at Upton Park that didn’t have a photo of a West Ham player holding the trophy aloft.

Not to mention the giant statue down the road.

Yes, all England’s goals were scored by West Ham players, and yes, the captain was a West Ham player, but that coincidence is no reason why, even now, if Mark Webster, his sons or his three-year-old granddaughter are losing an argument, out it comes: ‘We won the World Cup for ya.’

Could be a while yet before we see another statue of West Ham players holding a trophy, which is a shame because they have a lot of concrete to fill around that new ground of theirs.

Why You Shouldn’t Support Them

■ Branding themselves as the London club.

■ The new ground. Nothing to do with the finances, I just prefer to be able to see a game without the aid of binoculars.

■ Did not win the World Cup in 1966.