…there was a claret and blue army from the West of Ham who had voyaged over land and sea, fighting a seemingly lifelong crusade against a ferocious and truly relentless opponent. Throughout the decades they had many clashes. Some won, some lost. They had occasionally risen through the ranks and conquered mighty foes, but sadly they had also oft got caught in enemy territory, frequently shooting themselves in the foot and beating a hasty retreat further and further into the danger zone, thus becoming imprisoned in fearsomely low down and dirty dungeons.
In the best of times they were led by mighty warriors. In the worst of times the village idiots somehow took over. Over the years the treasury had become bare and the last of the silver had long since been plundered. The townsfolk were becoming restless. Supporting this army with mind, body and soul was becoming a dreadful burden.
Their latest commander in chief was a formidably bolshy character who took his troops through some rough terrain and they enjoyed some much-needed success. His latest campaign was largely impressive. Battles had been won with great finesse and flourish but it wasn’t always enough and he knew the war was far from over. Strong-willed and stubborn he sometimes ignored his advisors. He cocked a deaf ear to the voice of the people, stuck with his tactics even in failure and kept faith with his much-maligned captain. He refused to ingratiate himself with the masses and would never be forgiven for some of his strategies. The West of Ham citizens wanted glorious victory! At all costs. And the reigning Kings looked on and became increasingly worried…could they afford to dispose of their current leader or would a new figurehead finally lead the weary claret and blue army into the promised land? Even the beautiful and amazing and gracious and humble and ever-so-modest Queen Bee didn’t know what to do for the good of the realm…
It was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma….how would the story end?!
Now, I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago. The opening chapter of this particular Premier League campaign may have seemed like a dream come true but we’ve all kind of woken up to the harsh reality now haven’t we? It’s been grim (and not Grimm!!) recently, to say the least. I’m not surprised Sam Allardyce chose not to face the media after the hit we took at the Emirates on Saturday. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to dish out the latest episode of Jackanory. Sometimes things are best left unsaid. I haven’t really felt like saying much about it either. I was hoping for a birthday miracle (yes another year older, probably not much wiser) but unfortunately it was not to be. It was a valiant effort by all accounts but ultimately we were picked off and pulled apart. After coming so close against Manchester United, Tottenham and Chelsea I allowed myself to imagine a better contest but, as hard as this is for me to admit, the gulf in quality against the Gooners really showed.
Relatively speaking, we’re still in a decent position, safely nestled mid table with that 40 point cushion edging ever-closer towards our grasping fingertips. So why do I feel so deflated? When I’d have taken this position like a shot in August? Our early season show-stopping revelry and penchant for the spectacular has spoiled me. Call me greedy but I liked what I saw and I want me some more of that please! Unfortunately the funfair seems to have left town. No more fanfare.
So maybe we are exactly where we’re supposed to be. Yes it was exhilarating, it was a real blast while it lasted but now that seems like the stuff of myth and legend. Like the Emperor’s New Clothes. Underneath that initial pomp and bluster we’re still the rickety rickety old West Ham of yore. It wasn’t completely fake however. We were really good but we’re just not that good. Yet. With our faltering, injury-battered players, makeshift defence, absentee strike force and too slim squad, mid-table obscurity is quite possibly where we belong at this moment in time and space.
And that’s ok!
Apart from the Hawthorns disaster and the desperately humiliating no show against Palace we’ve always been in with a shout. On paper, one league win in 2015 looks bad. However I think many Hammers fans agree that the stats don’t always tell the full story. Players and managers always trot out the old “our performances have been there but not the results” cliché but, in all honesty, we’ve been undeniably unfortunate at times. Fine margins indeed.
So now what? Well, for me, as I said earlier in the season I’m not too fussed about a top six spot just yet anyway. At the risk of repeating myself it would be a grave mistake to try and embark on a European journey when we simply don’t have the means to do so. I’m so over flirting with the drop and the last thing we need is a relegation extravaganza during our farewell season at the Boleyn. The Europa competition is a gamble. To which Stoke, Swansea, Everton and Spurs would all testify. We can take up that engagement some other time. We do NOT need to risk a Premier League sortie!
There’s nothing wrong with a bit of mediocrity and mid-table obscurity…if only for a season or two. Let’s worry about fighting the good fight and setting the world alight when we’re comfortably and securely ensconced in our new palatial home. We will get our happily ever after but it might just take a little longer than we hoped for.
As for the future? It’s romantic nowadays to envisage a long-term “project”. How many managers are given the precious gift of time to create something special? Who has the scope to be truly forward-thinking in a team’s development or club’s progression? Those wishes are rarely granted. Chairmen are no fairy godmothers. Tomorrow is now a land far, far away. Everything has to happen today. Like it or not we are in the midst of a throwaway culture, where everything and everyone is disposable. Especially incumbent football managers…ESPECIALLY those that drastically divide fan opinion. I hate the precarious nature of it all. It is ruining the true heart of the game but, reluctantly, I’m coming round to the opinion that it would be foolish and bad business for us to grant anyone a long lease. Pay offs are way too frequent in the top flight and we certainly haven’t got that kind of money to throw around.
I don’t want to get into a big should-Sam-stay-or-go argument. That drama has been done to death and I’ve already asserted my support for him. But my instinct tells me, if there is no outstanding candidate (and even though there are whispers that Moyes has already been approached, to me there isn’t) then why not a one year rolling? It’s the least he deserves. Then at the absolute worst we’re nigh on guaranteed premier league status going into the Olympic Stadium. That’s if he’d even take that offer. I’m sure he feels he is owed something more substantial and I don’t disagree. But long contracts for any manager these days are becoming a lesson in sheer fantasy. They are usually a waste of ink, and, quite frankly, we just don’t have the paper.
Ok so Tim of Sherwood and his merry men have been given a fat contract to scribble on. So far they’ve managed to ride in like bandits, robbing points off of the poor to replenish their own bare coffers. All they care about right now is survival. They’re not looking any further than that. He’s definitely revitalised a once-woeful outfit and if he keeps them up he’ll be worth every penny of his three and a half years. Regrettably for the rest of us, for a large section of our fans Big Sam is more wicked sheriff than working man’s champion and unfortunately there are signs the board is wobbling. Unsubstantiated rumours abound yes but the silence is deafening. The big bad wolf is pacing outside that door and he’s getting ready to huff and puff!
I hope the writing isn’t on the wall for him already. That would be a shame. Plus all the uncertainty can’t be doing the players any good. One thing I do know is that we need to liven this story up sharpish. At this rate our season is scarily close to petering out into absolute nothingness. There has to be a better ending to this year’s yarn. What a perfect opportunity to get back on track this Saturday. Will Sam be hero or villain? Enter Dick Advocaat stage left….
COME ON YOU IRONS,
B x