It was a hammer to the heart of such emotional devastation that you couldn’t move. Lost for words, motionless, as we discovered the dreadful news that Billy Bonds had left us.
I stared at my phone for some minutes, ‘Billy Bonds RIP’, stared back at me. Tears welled up, the enormity of those words engulfed the senses. The great man, the spirit of West Ham, our captain through the dark days and the good, the very soul of our club was gone.He had been there forever hadn’t he, the rock that everything good about the club was built on, the glue that kept us all together. But at 79, after what we were beginning to realise was a long illness. He had lost his final battle on Sunday morning. West Ham would never be the same again.
The fact that there had been silence from the club from the moment Billy was admitted to hospital spoke a thousand words. Sunday continued in a haze for many, the club’s media department threw together a tribute as best they could, Jarrod Bowen carried Bonds’ number four shirt to the front of the Billy Bonds stand - renamed in his honour at an emotional ceremony in 2019.
Even on that day, Bonds, humble as ever said: ”What more can I ask than to be alongside Bobby and Sir Trevor? It’s an honour not just for me but for my wife, daughters and grandchildren.”
He was everything West Ham fans want from a player, the West Ham Way - a description so mangled in unfettered commercialism these days - was exactly everything Bonds was. A unique man engraved into the roots of our club, a name synonymous with everything good about West Ham.
Loyalty, spirit, leadership, brave, driven, pride, honesty, and not least a bloody, frequently, good player.
Sunday was a strange day, not helped by yet another poor display by the team, who lost 2-0 to Liverpool and are slipping into the relegation mire. The situation is not likely to be helped by a trip to Manchester United on Thursday without the stupidly red-carded Lucas Paqueta, and probably Cry Summerville.
Brighton away follows that game with Aston Villa and Manchester City next. The desperate need for points was never more obvious, how we could do with a full-blooded, rampaging Bonds now.
Strange too, because of several moans about fans I’ve heard. The minute's applause was respectfully observed, but there were many complaints that some fans didn’t stand and attempts to start a “Billy Bonds claret and blue army” chant on four minutes petered out very quickly.
It wasn't the response many who had experienced the first such rendition of that chant at Villa Park for that FA Cup semi-final in 1991 had hoped for. Too many seemed to treat it like just another old timer passing on, not really appreciating the magnitude of the occasion - one that many feel was a true end of an era, the final ending of the Boleyn era.
But Bonds retired in 1988, so you would have to be in your late forties to have seen him play. From a 62,000 crowd on Sunday, you can bet three quarters of those fans would be from the younger generation who had no real comprehension of the situation.
That’s sad, but not surprising in a modern era that knows precious little about life before the Premier League was conceived.
So for some of us, the time since Sunday has been one for reminiscing, tales of King Billy from the length and breadth of the land. Telling stories of the old days are what families do when they have lost a loved one.
And Bonds was family to us all. I’m old enough and lucky enough to have witnessed his entire West Ham career, from the moment of his league debut on the first day of the First Division season 1967/68.
We’d all heard a lot about this latest Ron Greenwood signing, £55,000 from Charlton, he was 21 - just three years older than me - and had already played nearly 100 games for the south Londoners.
Me and dad were leaning against the Chicken Run wall as Bonds trotted over to do his warm-up ahead of the match, a 3-2 defeat to Sheffield Wednesday, Martin Peters and Geoff Hurst scoring our goals. Bonds was tall, clean cut, looking strong and powerful - and there he was, right in front of us. He looked the real deal even then with a neat mod haircut.
It wasn’t the greatest of starts for the team, we shipped 19 goals in the first seven games and finished 12th. Young Bonds played 42 games, and stayed at full-back until Greenwood decided to move him into midfield to protect Trevor Brooking, a role he adopted with relish, and we all know the rest.
When you look back at a career as long as Bonds' at West Ham, it isn’t always the obvious that spring to mind: two FA Cup wins, a Second Division title, runners-up in a League Cup final and European Cup Winners’ Cup final.
It was the muck and bullet games, the vision of a mud-soaked, blood-stained, bandaged Bonds, carrying all our hopes, that lingers now. He was our captain, our leader, our hero, he was us on the pitch. Never has there been such a man.
Typical of the man were those four League Cup semi-final matches with Stoke in 1971/72. I’d seen us win a first leg in the Potteries 2-1, Bonds driving us back into the game.
The second leg saw Gordon Banks produce that wonder penalty save from Hurst to take the tie to a third game at Hillsborough, Stoke having won the toss for venue. That ended 0-0 AET, and for some reason the League chose Old Trafford for the second replay.
It was the classic match that saw Bobby Moore’s penalty save, Bobby Ferguson playing with concussion after a dreadful challenge from Terry Conway. Bonds was magnificent that night, he smashed home a ferocious equaliser and then sent in the cross for Brooking to put us ahead.
But Stoke equalised and little Conway, who should have been sent off, managed to squeeze the winner past a still groggy Ferguson. Throughout the tie, Bonds had been a colossus.
These were the games that underlined what Bonds was to us terrace lads. Not always the calmest though. In 1980 when we had already reached the FA Cup Final, as well as going for promotion, we faced Birmingham - bitter rivals - in a crunch league game, just six days after our semi-final heroics against Everton at Elland Road. ‘Bonds played out of his skin’, read the match report.
But the Birmingham game was one match too far. I’d travelled down midweek from Brum, where I was now working, with some City mates. In those days there was no issue about away fans in ‘home’ areas, even the Chicken Run. We lost a fierce game 2-1 and finished seventh, with Birmingham to soon claim promotion.
In front of 37,000, Bonds and another old hand, Colin Todd, got involved in an exchange of views and punches. Both were sent off and for a time it looked like our skipper would miss the final. For a change, the FA allowed him to play against Arsenal.
Bonds somehow failed to play for England, although his old boss Greenwood tried hard to end that injustice as England coach. Bonds had been expected to play in a friendly against Brazil, but in the final game of the 1980/81 season, with us already Second Division champions, we won 1-0 at Sheffield Wednesday.
Along with many Hammers fans, I witnessed Bonds break ribs in a collision with Phil Parkes - and you knew as he painfully left the field that his England dreams had gone.
Then Bonds inadvertently gave me the biggest break of my career. By the late '80s I’d moved to Manchester and was a very, very down table sports sub editor, doing freelance matches at weekends. We’d reached the FA Cup 5th round, the tie was at Birmingham, and a few of you will recall a little bit of bother.
I’d volunteered for the game and it was a nasty, bruising match with Brum 2-0 up in 14 minutes and the game over. Some of our lads attempted not one but two pitch invasions in a futile attempt to have the game abandoned and one lad was lumbering towards referee George Courtney, who was having a shocking match.
Birmingham winger Robert Hopkins rugby tackled our pitch invader and all hell broke loose. Bonds spent the time running up and down the line desperately stopping our fans from joining the fray, physically strong arming a few back over the perimeter wall and generally saving a bad situation from being a lot, lot worse. We lost 3-0 in disgrace.
Afterwards I’d got into the players tunnel and did a long interview with Bonds that got me a back page lead. A few days later I took a call that offered me a full time reporting job. I still have that back page framed in my office. Bonds will never know how grateful I was for that interview.
Bonds succeeded Lou Macari as manager on 23 February 23 1990. Two promotions and a relegation followed, that unforgettable FA Cup semi-final, against Nottingham Forest, Tony Gale’s sending off and the amazing second half when the ‘Billy Bonds claret and blue army’ chant dominated the day.
So here we are, full circle from Villa Park 1984 to London Stadium 2025. And if you cannot see the difference, then you are not paying attention.
The legacy of Billy Bonds lived for all those years in our Upton Park days. He will never be forgotten. There is barely any comparison between the West Ham of Bonds' heyday and what we have now.
These are my memories of a great man, a great hero, the greatest of Hammers. Thanks Billy for all you did for us. RIP.
* Like to share your thoughts on this article? Please visit the KUMB Forum to leave a comment.
* Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the highlighted author/s and do not necessarily represent or reflect the official policy or position of KUMB.com.
