I’ll be honest with you from the start – this is not going to be the most coherent article you’ve ever read on WHTID. I’ve been grappling with it for a while now in an effort to marshal the kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions that I have been left with after Saturday, but they remain a jumble. Still, I hope that by trying to piece them together it will give you some idea of what it means to me to be a West Ham supporter.
Let’s start with the amazing display of generosity from you fine people that has helped to swell the Bobby Moore cancer fund by £500. The copy of ‘Nearly Reach The Sky’ that Russell Brand autographed and was then put up for auction sold for a staggering £125. The final total was boosted by donations from other readers and a small top-up from Iain and myself.
I’m not going to “out” anyone by revealing their WHTID identities. But I would like to thank, in particular, Geoff, John and Graham.
What intrigued me most about the whole process was the bid that was made on the understanding the individual concerned was happy to pay as long as he DIDN’T get the book signed by Russell Brand. I think this opens up a whole new line in fundraising. I don’t know about you, but I’d pay quite a lot to own something that hasn’t been signed by Nigel Farage or Natalie Bennett, for example. So, what am I bid for this freshly printed copy of ‘Nearly Reach The Sky’ that has not been inscribed by Vlad The Impaler? All proceeds to the Bobby Moore fund via Jonjo Heuerman.
On the subject of Jonjo, I’m still trying to clear my lungs of the two-stroke fumes generated by the cavalcade of scooters that heralded his arrival at the Champions statue as his latest marathon challenge reached its climax on Saturday morning. Where did they come from – 1964? Talkin’ Bout My Elder Borther’s Generation!
Spectacular though it was, I do think the club could and should have done more to mark Jonjo’s remarkable fundraising achievement. At the very least he should have been presented to the Upton Park faithful at half time, when he could have been given the standing ovation he so richly deserves. A lap of honour wouldn’t be out of order, either.
I was lucky enough to be able to have a brief chat with Jonjo’s mother, Donna. She began by asking me to pass on the entire family’s thanks to WHTID readers for the support you have shown, which I promised to do. I replied by heaping praise on her remarkable 13-year-old son and all he has achieved, at which point she looked me straight in the eye and said: “He is up for adoption, you know.” I must have looked quizzical for a brief moment, because Donna gave me a very wicked grin and added: “I hope you like walking!”
Trust me, that boy is in good hands.
It would have been a real pleasure to have accepted their invitation to join them for a pre-match cup of rosie in the East Ham Working Man’s Club, but I was unable to abandon my post outside the fabulous Newham Bookshop, where I was signing copies of my book.
Never having written a book before, I’ve never done a book-signing – so I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I was nervous to begin with – which turned into full-on trepidation when the awesome Viv, the shop’s proprietor, suggested I parked myself outside to attract passing custom. Well, I say “suggested.” But when Viv suggests something, people tend not to argue!
I’ve done some strange things in my time, but sitting behind a desk in the Barking Road on a match day with nothing more than my deluxe West Ham book-signing pen and a wistful expression that is trying to convey the message “please don’t hurt me,” has to be right up there with the strangest.
Not that I had any reason to be concerned. In fact, it was a truly delightful experience – not least because it gave me a chance to meet a lot of WHTID regulars and put some faces to the names. (OT – see, I’m getting the hang of this social media malarkey – is it common practice to refer to people who follow a site but don’t actually comment as “lurkers”? The reason I ask is that in the newspaper game we call people who buy the paper but don’t feel the need to write a letter to the editor on a regular basis “readers”.)
I also finally got to meet Pete May, author of – among other things – Hammers in the Heart and Irons in the Soul, both of which are essential reading for anyone who bleeds claret and blue. Pete has been something of a journalistic hero of mine for 30 years – ever since I read a piece by him in Midweek magazine in which he recounted one of the funniest lines ever to come out of the Chicken Run (and that really is saying something).
The story goes that the West Ham side of the mid-Eighties that had gone from being title-contenders to relegation fodder within two short seasons was struggling against a particularly robust team of northern heavyweights – with a back four composed of giants who towered over Tony Cottee, who had been left to play on his own up front. The frustration in the stands was on the point of turning ugly when the cry went up: “Never mind Cottee – Snow White and the other six will be along to help you out soon!”
The guy who came up with this particular gem went on to launch Fortune’s Always Hiding with Pete and Phil Jupitus among others.
But I digress. (To be fair, I did warn you I was going to ramble this morning.)
Saturday also gave me the chance to lend my name to the petition that is part of a a campaign to ensure that when developers Galliard finally get their hands on the Upton Park site at the end of next season it is not given over entirely to luxury flats and there is some social housing as well. Keep the rich off the pitch!
I really fear for the future of East Ham when the ground is demolished. Independent traders such as the Newham Bookshop are bound to suffer as a result. They simply must not be allowed to go under (not that I could ever picture the indomitable Viv being beaten by something as minor as the football club that has been the heart and soul of the area for more than 100 years clearing off to another postal district).
In fact the Newham Bookshop, which has been in existence since 1978, has become something of a heartbeat in its own right. Poet Benjamin Zephaniah can certainly put it more eloquently than I could ever hope to.
“This bookshop has helped local people pass exams, fall in love, meet authors, become authors, get work experience, learn to read, understand Britain, understand the world and understand themselves.”
As I said earlier, Saturday really was a rich, warm casserole of a day for me. Oh yes, I nearly forgot. We also had a game against Palace. That was diabolical. But, hey, in the immortal words of Tina Turner, “What’s football got to do with it?”