Getting Shirty

OLAS 423 OCTOBER 21st 2007

T-shirts and me have always got on well. I’ve been collecting them for years and I find it hard to say goodbye to them, even ones I’ve more than grown out of emotionally, intellectually, and let’s face it, physically. Tucked away deep in my drawers are relics of political campaigns – remember the “People’s March for Jobs 1981? (medium size – those were the days). Then there are the playful and provocative ones “All Coppers are Bastards” against an image of the Z-Cars crew, and the downright pretentious ones with dull grey wording on black “I’m only wearing black until they invent a darker colour”. Plus, of course shedloads of West Ham related shirts – testimony to a long, deep and meaningful love affair founded on total affection, commitment, loyalty, trust and plenty of excitement every week. And I’m still buying them.

My latest acquisition was purchased on the night of the Plymouth bore, from one of the geezers on the stalls near the ground. It’s the shirt with the “Upton Park E13” road sign underscored with “Pride of East London”. I took it home after the game, put it in the drawer with the others, but it won’t come out again. I just can’t bring myself to wear it right now. I’m glad we picked up 10 points early in the campaign this year but I don’t feel any pride in West Ham at the moment. We’re becoming a laughing stock. Not just because of the results, though three defeats on the spin doesn’t exactly lift you.

There’s no great shame in losing by the odd-goal to Arsenal and many teams with squads bursting with talent will go down at Villa Park by more than one goal – as Chelski will tell you. But we’re a laughing stock because we pay silly money for players and silly money to players who can’t take more than the average rough and tumble in a game without being out for weeks. Apart for the Reading game and brief spells in a few of the others, we’ve looked uninspired, sluggish, off the pace, and bereft of ideas and enthusiasm all season. Even in games where we’ve found points we’ve looked there for the taking. We were unfairly denied a goal during a good spell against the Arse but everyone saw the huge gulf in class between us. Huffing and puffing is not enough against teams like that.

With the exception of a few minutes either side of kick off, Upton Park is becoming quiet. We’re losing our identity with the players. I don’t believe in a golden age of yesteryear but things really are so different now. I fell in love with West Ham when they were truly a local club with players whose ultimate idea of success in life was playing for West Ham. And I came to love too the players who started elsewhere but through their attitude became the heart and soul of our team – like Billy Bonds who signed from Charlton and Pop Robson who came from Geordieland and Clyde Best who flew in from Bermuda, Frankie McAvennie…Paulo di Canio...

Players who had the world at their fingertips were happy to do it at Upton Park. In 1967 – the year when Chelsea paid a record £100,000 transfer fee (Tony Hateley) - the league champions in waiting, Man U, offered double that for Geoff Hurst. Ron Greenwood said no and a few days later Hurst penned his name on a further 6 years contract at West Ham before he even asked what his wages would be! Now as a trade unionist that is not something I would encourage but doesn’t it speak volumes about the club we were?

In my formative years as a fan I watched Trevor Brooking make his debut. His silken skills could have graced the stadia of Italy or Spain’s top clubs. He could have appeared in countless European cup finals but he stayed a one-club hammer. Of course those days are long gone, but apart from Mark Noble and Bobby Zamora, who in our squad feels even the slightest bit passionately about playing for us?

Too many of the current squad look as if they are just here for the ride and we are starting to reap the bitter fruit of last year’s reckless transfer policies. Lucas Neil had me fooled for a while with his sparkling displays at the tail end of the season but this year he’s looked as if he’s just going through the motions and he obviously puts his greatest effort into picking up his wages. Look at Upson, Ljungberg, Boa Morte – same syndrome. Add to that scenario the players who really are just not up to competing at this level (Bowyer, Mullins, McCartney, Cole), a manager with as much drive, passion and positivity as a funeral director, and we’re really in quite a sorry state.

There’s a glimmer of hope with Deano and Greeny and maybe with Bellamy. More than anyone Deano has what it takes to become a Hammers’ legend but he’s young and ambitious and if we continue to surround him with superannuated time-servers whose best years are behind them, then he’s just not going to stick around. Green’s a star who knows he should be between the sticks for England. Sooner or later he’s going to ask himself if he might reach that place more easily by being at a more attractive club. Because at the moment we are less attractive than Iain Dowie on a bad day.

Bellamy is a wild card – who could go either way. He comes with a lot of baggage but probably no more than di Canio. I’ve got high hopes for Faubert when he returns from injury – so we might yet turn it around – and I might start to wear my pride t-shirt.

As a whole our current squad seems inadequate to the task of gathering enough points let alone offering us flair and inspiration, so a lot will hinge on the January sales. Are we preparing the ground now to capture young players with flair and desire or are we plotting to provide a resting home for those who have already done it all, and will add nothing but their names and their past glory to our team? Look at the last two transfer windows – been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

My favourite t-shirt of all is sadly not in my possession. I saw a guy wearing it at the Cambridge Folk Festival a few years ago. It was simple and plain with just two words. Low down the back, in the middle there was an arrow pointing downwards. It said elbow. And near the elbow was another arrow – you’ve worked it out. Curbs could wear one too – only it wouldn’t be ironic would it?

So, overpaid tossers, led by a donkey – prove me wrong. Give us back our beautiful game. Show us why we are the Pride of East London. Come On You Iron(ic)s!!!