Not another relegation battle.

West Ham - not another relegation battle.

As a disgruntled West Ham supporter for over 40 years, I should be used to disappointment by now. I'm sure it's in the bloodstream coursing through my veins and creating havoc with my blood pressure. There can be no medical cure or antidote for all those years of long suffering and purgatory, the years of standing and shivering stoically on  the South Bank on the once beloved Upton Park.

 What, I expect, would those hardened Irons supporters give for a good old fashioned cavalry charge when Brooking and Devonshire mesmerised opposition defences with their direct running and immaculate playing skills. Alan Devonshire was the sorcerer and cut throat rapier, darting and dashing across Upton Park with all the cavalier brilliance of D'Artagnan in his pomp.

Then there was Trevor Brooking, clever, cunning and smooth, a player endowed with all the gifts of the learned and academic. The overwhelming impression is that Brooking would have made a wonderful lawyer or City stockbroker had he decided not to pursue a notable and distinguished career in football. Brooking was full of invention and originality, a player who glided and swayed across the pitch with all the studied grace of an Olympic gymnast.

 When the immensely knowledgeable West Ham manager Ron Greenwood once told Brooking to shield the ball away from opponents and then pass the ball it was thought to be one of the most revolutionary ideas ever to cross an old First Division managers mind. Brooking quickly changed the shape of his body and then in one incredible manoeuvre, Brooking would shield the ball before elegantly rolling his body again. In a flash, the ball would be instantly released to a team-mate as if by magic and West Ham were instantly transformed into an attacking force.

But what now for the Hammers, the Irons and manager Slaven Bilic. The Hammers heart- breaking 3-2 defeat to their so called sworn enemies Tottenham at White Hart Lane is another sharp reminder of how fortunes can so cruelly change within the space of just one season and now almost half way through the next. The wheels have fallen off, the engine has just stopped working and all of the derring do of that last season at Upton Park is now some glorious and distant fairy tale.

Where exactly has it all gone all so sadly wrong. We checked the gears and carburettor just before the season and everything seemed to be functioning normally. But the old problems had re-surfaced once again and oil seemed to be dripping everywhere. So we just assumed that it was just a blip, a stumble, a temporary setback or two. But oh no this was a trip back to the mid 1970s when West Ham seemed to be permanently anchored in the bottom half of the old First Division without so much as a decent explanation. Don't think we weren't tempted to take the Hammers to court for these unforgivable lapses in defensive concentration. Alvin Martin and the immovable captain Billy Bonds were always attentive and conscientious central defenders but when Pat Holland and Geoff Pike weren't on duty it all seemed to go up in calamitous smoke. It was defeat after defeat or goal- less or score draw over and over again. So irritatingly frustrating and yet the theme was a repetitive one. I was tempted to throw my claret and blue programme into some far corner of the South Bank.

I first jumped onto the claret and blue bandwagon in circa 1978 and this was a revelation. My initiation ceremony was quite painful. The first Upton Park matches were profitable ones with wins against Stoke City, Bristol City, and Manchester City. Then it all seemed to go horribly wrong. True there were occasions when everything went delightfully right but there was never a happy medium. West Ham simply refused to obey their attacking principles. The script always looked an attractive one but in a matter of 90 minutes it all went to pot and ragged tatters. If I didn't know better I could have sworn West Ham did this deliberately if only to test our emotional reflexes. How deeply cruel and unfair but the truth was that they had only themselves to blame.

Finally and dreadfully but perhaps inevitably the Hammers were relegated at the end of the 1978-79 season by Liverpool, who almost seemed to win the old First Division by several country miles in those days. I can still smell the despair and disillusionment in the air as the Hammers tumbled out of the top flight almost compliantly. Not so much as a whimper. It seemed somehow fated and pre-ordained and to this day I can still see myself turning to my school friends, who variously supported both Liverpool and Leeds and just looking perplexed. Why did my team West Ham have to be relegated while Leeds and Liverpool were still rubbing shoulders with the jet set, the big boys?


Roll forward to the present day and the excuses for this current state of turmoil are pretty weak. How to explain this very uncomfortable and stomach churning malaise. If only West Ham could have exceptional seasons every year and perhaps finish seventh every season for ever more. Wouldn't it release the burden of  anxiety and make the season that much more bearable. But then maybe the supporters would wonder why things were going so well. There must be a reason for this seemingly split personality. If only West Ham could go through an entire season without worrying and struggling, looking nervously over their shoulders as defeats became more common than victories. But then perhaps our supporters would miss that thrilling battle of relegation, that perennial fight against the drop into the Championship or the old Second Division. In a way perhaps this is the scenario that best suits the club when reality sets in.


So whose fault is this? Who are the Hammers to blame for this depressing slump, this almost yearly rendezvous with defeat and defeat.   The enormously gifted Dimitri Payet is a pale shadow of the creative playmaker of last season, Manuel Lanzini, the impish Argentinian with a cloak of purple genius around his shoulders, has yet to re-discover the dazzling artistry of last season and the defence seems to have taken an early holiday in Mauritius. Definitely not paradise surely.

Now the new London Stadium, once the Olympic Stadium and the Hammers new beautiful home, is questioned and crticised. The reality is of course that West Ham are rather like the proverbial fish out of water. From the rather cramped and claustrophobic Upton Park, West Ham now find themselves  the tenants of some grand country estate. But the swagger of last season has now been replaced by some very awkward body language. The proper channels of communication have broken down and West Ham are all wooden, leaden footed and Morse Code.

There can be no obvious reasons for panic but after recent crowd problems at the London Stadium during the League game against Watford and the ELF Cup victory against Chelsea, the immediate future begins to look distinctly less than rosy and encouraging. Ouch defeats hurt for West Ham. Surely things will get better and once adjustment to their new surroundings has been achieved maybe the Hammers can take off again and once again do their Thames Ironworks ancestors proud once again. Before the League Cup game against Accrington I did a quick tour of the new London Stadium surroundings and noticed a large bell outside one of the entrances. There must surely be resounding victories on the horizon. Time for the Hammers to hit back. Come on you Irons.