Hello everybody, and sorry I have not gotten back to you for a while. Free time to write is a little hard and there is a sudden surge in work that demanded my attention. Hope you all understand. To start off with like to have this column to tell how the views of supporting west ham from across the pond. It is quite a hassle until recently because the only time the past year or two when the games would be shown irregularly and often on tape delayed. The hardest part was not sneaking off to check the results when waiting And if the game was delayed you would get to watch it at a bar on one television screen with no sound while the rest of the bar was engulfed with a baseball game that draws the revenue for the bartender. Kind of the spartan life for the true fan to watch the pride of the East End. Unless, we played a bigger club that typical Americans would be more focused towards. Those days would suck just for the fact that their support would not comprehend their clubs defeat to a club that they barely heard of.
Where as I’m content to have the team try their best and squeeze out a possible win, they demanded victory at all cost and not settle nothing less. Perfect example was the game against Arsenal a couple of years ago under Alan Pardew management. Being a game with Arsenal we got the game live. The Gooners were in full effect, their typical ayer of over confidence as I walked in to Smith’s with the same enthusiasm of a small child in a candy shop that knew that whatever purchased would be taken away by a group of bullies waiting in the shadows. I walk in and a rather large fella with a trucker hat comes straight to me and tells me “we are going to relegate your guys.” Now I knew that when he was referring to “we” I comfortably assumed he was referring toward Arsenal’s team players and not him personally because of my obvious observation that this person who was not a big fan of salads. Not worried about a little harmless banter but to be honest I did have the temptation to chin him and proceed to comically have him chase me around in a big circle till he keeled over from a heart attack cursing the fried pork products he digested earlier with his last dying breath. Fortunately for my new tubby friend, I allowed him to move on and let the team do my bidding than committing any frowned upon acts of anti-social behavior. As it just happened that day, my patience payed off because Alan Pardew was not the only fella jumping into the arms of his neighboring buddy when Marlon Harewood put the the ball away in the dying minutes of the game. Followed by a loud joyous eruption of cheer occurred that can only happen after waiting two hours for a goal to decide the victor of the game. As for my Chubby Brown looking pal, he was no where to be found. He properly jogged on to the bellows of “we can see you sneaking out!” leaving only the reminisce of his sausage butty on the bar counter. All the while his fellow supporters complaining of that “they would not win the league with Wenger in charge” and how are they “expected to win the champions league” when losing to a naff small team. A small team that struggled all that season to not be relegated into the abyss of the championship again. On reflection of that day years ago are what you really should be looking at in a team is commitment then counting the trophies before they hatch. Realize that commitment requires the good with the bad, the wins with the losses. The slings and arrows of ludicrous performances with the mix of victorious jubilation and the occasional act of divine intervention. Otherwise, an average day for the typical West Ham supporter living in NYC.