The one thing I've found surprising about all the recent column inches and online discussions is that nowhere have I seen any version of one of the common dismissals. "They're not true fans"; "they're not real fans"; "they're not proper
The business of who is a 'real' fan does crop up every so often, and I've seen it used in arguments on KUMB now. Most commonly, it is said that away fans are the 'real' fans (especially by away fans!). But, then again, on the Paris Metro, at St Pancras, at West Brom, at Spurs, it's been away fans, however small a minority, that have been the idiotic culprits.
By any yardstick, away fans are, of course, true fans. Their dedication of time and money to the clubs they support, whether their club is at the top of the tree or grubbing around at grassroots level, is both admirable and astonishing. Even if a small proportion do, from time to time, acutely embarass the clubs they follow.
Certainly, even the idiots, whether they're travelling supporters or not, are true fans. You cannot disown them, they are part of your club, and every club has them. They are so dedicated to their cause that any sense of proportion appears to go out of the window. But are away fans the only 'true' fans? Surely there is not only one way to be a true fan?
Something Of Myself now (as Kipling put it), for context and because I am, I suspect, someone that many would say is not a true fan. And yet I feel that I am.
I'm pushing 40. Alas! From the wrong side! I also admit, it's not 'pushing', precisely... Still, whilst the big Five-Nil is looming, it's not yet imminent. I'm East Ham born and bred, though I've not lived there for 20 years.
My earliest memory of football (bearing in mind how few televised games there were back then) was watching, in black and white, Scotland fail to beat Yugoslavia (as I seem to remember the BBC had it), and being disappointed that the Scots went out of the '74 World Cup. Afterward, I went out and kicked a ball against a wall in Southend Rd, pretending I was West Germany. Hopefully, I can be forgiven these things seeing as I hadn't started primary school!
My earliest memories of West Ham (see above, vis TV) are of disappointment at a defeat to Burnley (as always seemed to happen in those days) and, of course, the Bobby Moore Cup Final! Not that he was playing for us, but it was the only time I ever saw him play live, albeit on the TV. Young as I was, you couldn't help but have some idea of who he was (if only because the commentators kept telling you).
The first time I ever went to The Boleyn was when Eldest Brother took me. I was ever so excited... and a bit deflated when we got there and it was West Ham Reserves vs Leicester City Reserves! We lost 1-0, and I wasn't very impressed with Bobby Ferguson. Memory is probably lying when it tells me we were the only two spectators in the ground.
As you will have gathered, I'm the son of working class parents, the third son and fourth child of four. Lots of hand-me-downs! No child appreciates the constraints at the time - there wasn't a lot of spare cash around, so no, I was never taken to football by Dad, none of us were. But no-one ever went hungry, we had a holiday every year, and we all seem to have turned out alright, nevertheless.
Dad, through careful budgeting by Mum, was a season ticket holder, though I have no idea when that was first bought. I have a feeling it wasn't until the later '70s and he paid on the turnstile before then.
When I was older, and Eldest Brother had moved out, I got to use the season ticket. Dad spent his working life in Westminster Libraries (his retirement present from colleagues was a print of one of those ornate frontispieces stamped "Withdrawn"); it was where he met Mum; but it meant he had to work alternate Saturdays. If he was working when West Ham were at home... Oh joy!!
For a couple of seasons, once I was working, I had a season ticket of my own - me, Dad, and Uncle George, all in a row in the middle of the West Stand. My stand-out memory of that time was Alvin Martin coming back into the side, in the days of his foot trouble, I think. I'm sure it was against Norwich.
I do know that our defence had been at 6's and 7's for weeks. In came "Stretch"... Defence - suddenly solid as a rock! It always annoyed me that pundits said he hadn't got the pace to play for England - he didn't need pace. He was like Bobby Moore - he read the game.
He didn't need pace because he was where he needed to be. I'm not old enough to have seen the great Sir Bobby in his pomp and glory. Alvin, alongside Paul McGrath, are the best centre-backs I've seen play. Martin and McGrath may not have been Moore, but they weren't half bad.
Ahem! I digress. Perhaps because this is the point at which my credentials as a "true" supporter fall apart. The season ticket was not renewed when I was made redundant. West Ham, like holidays, have always fallen victim to the "time and money" equation. When I've had time, I've not had money; when I've had money, I've not had time.
I've never attended an away game, for a start. Actually, that's not quite true. When I lived in Chadwell Heath, I went down to Dagenham and Redbridge for a pre-season friendly. We'd just signed Marco Boogers. He sounded as though he was going to be useful. He looked as though he would be. Unfortunately, for both him and us, he fell apart mentally.
I'm also a curious chap (in both senses!) I have a lot of interests, and some of them are expensive, such as musical instruments and historical re-enactment. Something has to give somewhere.
I have always been an avid sportsman. A bad Sunday morning footballer over Hackney Marshes (Moore's vision, but little of his skill!), an archer (not necessarily a cheap hobby either), a medieval martial artist, a squash player. I follow any number of sports at a distance, especially the England Rugby team. And I started migrating outwards in the mid '90s, so the combination of time and money to follow my beloved West Ham...
Particularly since, for most of the last ten years, I've lived way out in East Anglia. I harbour hopes of being able to spend time and money on a season ticket for the last one at Upton Park, but whether that will come to fruition is anyone's guess.
Yes, I confess, all those match reports I write, I'm sat there in front of the TV or the PC, scribbling notes. Of course, there are things I miss but, equally, there I things I see that I would have missed in the stadium.
If you want to, of course you can sneer or dismiss on that basis. But then again, for years, I've scanned radio channels, trying to find a commentary on MY team. Nowadays, the net is an immense resource. I get everything I can and, of course, I rely a great deal on the excellent KUMB (I was calling The Ed names the other day, so I need to grovel a bit, sorry!).
The trouble is that whilst football and West Ham are a big part of my life, they're not the only things in my life. West Ham Till I Die. But I don't have a heart attack without a daily fix. These days, I am in the fortunate position where it's demands on my time, rather than money, that are the limiting factor.
So am I a true fan or not?
I thought that I'd come up with a definition. It doesn't matter how many teams you keep an eye out for. Being English, I am genetically compelled to look out for the underdog. I always keep an eye on the smaller London (Orient excepted) and southern sides.
Currently, I'm cheering on Bournemouth and Brentford like billy-o. Wouldn't it be one in the eye for all the money in football if they both came up! I even keep an eye on tiny Scottish sides like Stranraer and East Stirling, simply because I fell in love with the names when I was a kid.
But despite an interest, several interests, in every division of the English game, there's only one team that really matters. And there, I thought, I had a definition of The True Fan. It's not about the money you've spent, or the time you've spent, whether you buy / wear the shirt...
What is the team you've always followed, no matter what, since you can't remember when? Isn't that the defintion of The True Fan? I know a chap who supports Oxford and Chelsea. He's Oxford by birth, but has always been a Chelsea fan.
Unlike all those Man Utd fans who have always been Man Utd fans. Funny that. When I was growing up, all the glory hunters not supporting a local team supported Liverpool (my best mate, aged 12-ish, happily admitted that he supported Liverpool because they won things). Fifteen years later, the people my age who didn't support their local side all supported Man Utd. Ever since they'd been crap. Really? Where were all you lot when I was a kid, then?
Surely my mate can support both, though? But Chelsea is the one that really matters to him. There again, I must know the only bloke in the world who supports both Southport (where he is from) and Cambridge (where he's lived for years). And, suddenly, my somewhat tentative definition falls apart.
I'm back to dear old Dad again. You see, he was born in Kennington Lane. In cricket, he never stopped supporting Surrey; The Oval was only down the road (although he wasn't quite old enough to have seen the great Jack Hobbs).
But he married Mum in 1953, the same year as the Coronation. He moved up to East Ham, so he started going to West Ham instead of what had been his local club. Millwall. Yes, Millwall. So much for that bitter rivalry, then!
I've never given a damn about Millwall, nor do I know an Iron who does. Dad, I think, always kept an eye out for their results (it was Leeds he hated, because he had to watch the Don Revie years). But there goes my theory. Thanks, Dad!
It's not even "the team you've always followed". Dad followed West Ham only from his mid-20's, but did so till the day he died. He and Mum were married for 45 years. They'd have celebrated their Diamond in 2013, I don't doubt, had Dad not died just before the Millennium.
Until ill-health prevented him from going to games, he kept the season ticket too. He was Millwall and West Ham both. So was he a "true" Hammer? Am I? I know what I think. Not least that any definition of a "true" fan ought to include people, rather than exclude them.
What do you think makes a true fan?
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