15 December 2021 was when I was last part of West Ham's travelling army. A miserable 2-0 defeat at the Emirates, accentuated by the fact that my body gave the first clear indication that Multiple Sclerosis was truly beginning to affect me, eight years after being diagnosed.
Struggling to walk from the tube station to the chasm of despair that 60,000 Gooners creates, I was lucky that Arsenal stewards saw the distress I was in and aided me to witness the game. Getting home was a nightmare compounded by station closures, stubbornness and fear.So that was my last foray into enemy territory as a member of the claret and blue army. And in time honoured fashion, typical of my luck we then go on to have three successive European campaigns and that night in Prague while I sat at home, jealous, emotional and living the experience through friends' stories.
A wheelchair became a part of my life and with that, a season of getting used to travelling differently to home matches. A decision was made, mainly by my son who the bulk of the time pushes me, that aways were somewhat feasible and necessary for me to exercise some internal demons.
That journey back began in Brentford on Saturday. Did it go smoothly? No. Did it go to plan? No. Did I feel glad to be back at away games? Hell yeah.
Good old fashioned engineering works on the underground and a complete traffic gridlock around the west London area meant the outward journey was chaotic, nerve-inducing and slow. I missed the opportunity of a pre-match beverage and a catch-up with a couple of fellow KUMB Moderators.
Brentford’s quirky and somewhat hidden home was pretty easy to navigate though, after a unique lift journey to stadium level was made.
It was great to see some familiar faces and even better to plot up in the bay next to West Ham and KUMB legend Wanstead. Just being in amongst the travelling mob again was heartwarming. There’s something special about being part of that group which to the outsider is almost indescribable. It felt great to be back in the throng.
The game itself, the performance, the state of the squad is better discussed elsewhere and in a more in-depth breakdown. Needless to say being back on the road and then being a goal down within a minutes was just so typically West Ham I could do nothing more than give a bemused laugh to myself once the initial anger had subsided.
And as we continued to huff, puff, make bizarre changes and look strangely but predictably disjointed, lo and behold the home support's scapegoat of choice Tomas Soucek pops up with a timely equaliser in his own inimitable way. As our lot sang his name, once again it brought home how different our support is home and away. Another reason to be grateful.
As the game ended, the crowds made their way home. The travel routes home blocked, we made our way for a quick pint, a reflection of the day and tried to concoct a plan to get back. As we left we bumped in Marco who used to sit next to us at the Boleyn. That capped things off nicely and made the day definitely seem even more worthwhile.
I’ve already got another couple of away days booked up. I may not be able to do what I could, how I could or want. But with the help of my son, I’m taking the first steps back.
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