Three years ago, my life changed beyond belief. Diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2014, I had had no major symptoms. Then it truly struck and here I am now - dependent on a wheelchair and walking aids.
It looked like my days as an active West Ham fan were coming to an end. Unable to attend alone, struggling to walk, to stubborn to ask for help, to ignorant to know where to seek it. In a form of frustration, anger and self-expression I wrote a piece on my situation. It gained traction and West Ham's disability team reached out. A solution was found.The gratitude I feel towards my kids and friends who have helped me to still get to games is immense. Also to some of the staff at the club who not only prodded me into action, but also have helped along the way as I attend games not just at home, but on the road where I can.
This club has been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember and to have it remain so is a blessing - even if the on-pitch performances drive me crazy and off-pitch ones to despair!
The real point of this article is to express gratitude to our fan base. Yes, there are elements and aspects that frustrate me, infuriate and anger me. But since being, it pains me to say, disabled, they are one of the very few groups that still make me feel and treat me, like me.
I count myself lucky that I lived a fully active and free life until the age of 51. Many are not so fortunate. Since I have been forced to use a wheelchair to get around, I have encountered problems and attitudes that have opened my eyes to things I was oblivious too.
It is not just the practical side of things. Transportation, accessibly and the poor general state of pavements in this country are a huge issue. However, the attitude of many people is almost a bigger concern.
I was never blessed with height, but being confined to a permanently lower level is eye opening. People talking to whoever I am with, rather than me, because I am in a chair. People walking in front of me obliviously; being stared at; looked at with pity, judgement, disgust, disdain and anger. I’ve had it all.
I've even being accused of faking my disability because I dared to actually go out and enjoy myself. That was probably my lowest point.
But not at West Ham. Not among the alternative family, I’ve accumulated over my years as a supporter. At games, I am still Steve/Rio. At games I’m talked too, given a little help when needed, if not directly asked for. At games I am treated the way I always was. As a fellow fan, bemoaning tactics, performance and ineptness. Physical limitations of players. Not mine.
Thanks to stints contributing to KUMB and more visually EUMB, I have had numerous incidences where people have said hello, chatted about what we do, thanked me and generally been friendly. Let’s put it this way - I have not had a threatening encounter like back in the early days!
As I’ve migrated to a new part of the ground, there’s a new community developed, harking back to the Boleyn days. Albeit in a more flimsy new build, rather than character-filled splendour.
Those people, my closest friends, my family. The friends I have made through the website. The general support. You’ve kept me going, when things have got dark, got tough. There was always West Ham and more importantly its fan base to give me the drive to push on.
You have kept me feeling like me. I thank you.
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