I blame myself. No I blame my mates. No my kids. No the whole, damn lot of us.
That’s before I blame the players. Lessons of yore not learned. Ticket availability being sounded out. They should know better.I was too young to go in 1980. My babysitter's boyfriend promised to take me the next time we got to Wembley. They split up before the 1981 League Cup Final.
I vowed never to go to Wembley until we got there. The London Monarchs came along. They won the World Bowl. I hadn’t broken the West Ham/football vow.
From a footballing point of view, I caved for Shrewsbury of all teams. A mate via a play-by-mail (that dates me) football game enticed me to go to the 1996 Auto Windscreens Shield final. They lost.
Weeks later, I then caved in to see an England international pre Euro '96. Gigs followed. NFL happened. Dagenham got to the FA trophy finals. At the classic incarnations of the national stadium. But West Ham? No.
It took until 2012 and a brand new stadium to get to see my beloved club at our national home. 32 years after I pledged not to watch a football game without us there. My oldest son’s first full year as a season ticket holder. We made it. Beginners luck.
I went when the mob from N17 were squatting there. I’ve been to watch rugby, American football, more gigs. But us? No.
What is it with West Ham and Wembley? Or is it just me? Every time we are on the cusp of getting to play there we somehow manage to fail’: Luton, Oldham, Birmingham and Manchester City in League Cup semi finals. Keith Hackett. Scott Oakes in the FA Cup.
Schweinsteiger, Leeds on penalties. Every time in my supporting life, bar our triumph over Blackpool, the twin towers/arch have been ready, we’ve found it a step too far.
Even when we went through that spell of grand days out. It was in Cardiff and not the spiritual home of English football.
So why? Did we curse the Norse gods of misfortune by ruling the roost between 1964 and 1980? Did Willie Young, following defeat for Arsenal in 1980, invoke some form of voodoo on us?
Cr did the babysitter's boyfriend merely place a fatwa on me going to see my club at Wembley in a final?
It’s not as if it’s all that special anymore. It’s a ball ache to get to and from. Wembley way is no more. There’s nothing magical about the new version. And of course, FA Cup semi finals shouldn’t be played there.
But being there represents something magical. Unity, belief, hope, strength, the grandest of days out. But once again it slipped through our fingers,
These words prove two things. West Ham reaching another Wembley Cup Final in my lifetime looks but a misty-eyed pipe dream. More potently that I’m a weak-willed bloke who couldn’t stick to his vow.
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