The end of another football season but that doesn't sound right.

The end of another football season but that doesn't sound right.

How strange that the football season ending in 2020 should more or less coincide with that legendary moment in our lives. For it'll be exactly a week today since Sir Alf Ramsey's prancing cavaliers ran around the old Wembley Stadium, as England lifted the World Cup 54 years ago. It was a legendary day, a day of revelations, feverish excitement and, ultimately, triumph with a liberal helping of celebration. Then they splashed elatedly in the Trafalgar Square fountains during London's swinging 1960s London and all was well with the world.

For those who pin their colours faithfully to the claret and blue mast, the end of this Premier League club season couldn't have come quickly enough. West Ham's yearly relegation struggle was as painstaking as it usually is and there came a point when you simply didn't care whether the club you'd always supported would either stay in the Premier League or just drop helplessly into the Championship.

But here we are in July and this Sunday marks the most improbable end to a season that has eventually panned out in such a fashion that, in retrospect, it should never perhaps have been allowed to happen in the first place. But it had to be completed because, in its stuffily conservative way, the Premier League had to finish with a logical conclusion to a standard nine-month season. Now all we can do is sit back, take stock once again and mutter our disbelief  because, by whatever means the Premier League season which kicked off last August has meandered its way towards the finishing line this Sunday afternoon. And believe it or not July is rapidly approaching its end.

So before you take the dog for a walk in the park, clean the car and devour your Sunday roast you'd be well advised to strap yourselves in for one last fairground ride of the Premier League season. There is something though ludicrously misshapen about the end of the football season being eked out until well after Midsummers Day. Still, it's been a laugh and you've got to laugh.

Surely we've missed something though. Now you realise that although it was never meant this way, football still had to do the honourable thing. Everything that was completely lacking in resolution had to be decided quite comprehensively with all of the remaining Premier League matches sewn up. Liverpool had to finish their matches and last night were rightly declared the most striking of Premier League title winners. The journey to that title almost led them off onto the wrong road but confirmation of that trophy title was there for all to see, as a fireworks party outside Anfield lit up the Merseyside sky last night.

At the other end of the Premier League season those perennial relegation residents West Ham did just enough to scrape together the morsels in another season of yet more traumatic under-achievement that almost led to one of those comical falls down the relegation trapdoor. Quite how or why a football season is punctuated with such desperation and blood curdling ups and downs is beyond our understanding. This season was no different.

By the time West Ham play their last game of the Premier League season against their fellow claret and blues Aston Villa at the London Stadium on Sunday, some of us will be puffing out our cheeks, grimacing with embarrassment and grateful that football will take its welcome break until the middle of September or any date the FA deem suitable for its resumption. Of course the season went all haywire and haphazard when the global pandemic gripped hold of the game and almost strangled it.

For West Ham this has been a familiar story. The 5-0 hammering administered by now former Premier League champions Manchester City at the London Stadium on the season's opening day now seems like medieval history. But by Christmas West Ham, led by the almost permanently bloodshot eyed, haggard Manuel Pellegrini, were struggling, stumbling, tripping before collapsing into the bottom half of the table. Crucial defeats at home to Spurs and Arsenal led to more belly flopping and then gasping for air while all around them were top of the table occupants swanning off into the sunset with an arrogant strut.

Come January and the Hammers boss David Moyes was appointed with the specific remit to calm nerves, reduce our blood pressure and stabilise the rocking boat. The Scotsman, who had been with the club in another incarnation, quickly got down to work and before you knew it, had his feet firmly under the table. It was only now that we were given a strong indication of what we would have to expect from Moyes.

Moyes, a no nonsense, unfussy, direct and hugely conscientious coach who had once taken Everton to previously unexpected heights when he was boss at Goodison, now rolled up his sleeves again. The 4-0 thumping of Bournemouth who now sadly look destined to be relegated on Sunday, almost felt like the most incredible achievement given what had happened before Moyes had arrived.

But things went off kilter for the rigidly businesslike Moyes, a fierce advocate of the kind of football that remains rooted in a secure defensive base accompanied by a lethal strike force. Moyes had an excellent crop of players at Everton who just wanted to do their boss proud. The likes of Tim Cahill, Leon Osman and Steven Pienaar were hugely influential and catalytic figures who gave Everton much of the stability Moyes had been looking for.

More recently a wretched January followed by an equally as rotten February didn't help to give West Ham any sense of direction or positive trajectory. Then they would travel up to Premier League title winners elect Liverpool and came away with a creditable 3-2 defeat when it looked as though Liverpool might have lost their bottle.

In their next away game at Arsenal, West Ham, now revitalised, were ready to go again, their equilibrium now restored. They may have lost 1-0 at the Emirates Stadium but the feeling had not gone, the desire and inclination still intact after more bruising defeats during the depths of winter. And then there followed a global pandemic, an illness and disease so destructive and wide ranging that football just seemed to crawl into a corner and hibernate.

The coronavirus from nowhere or, quite possibly a Chinese cruise vessel, had now sunk its teeth into an unsuspecting world, bitten hard on its mental and physical resources and left it bleeding. West Ham, rather like the whole of every football team in the land, would now be grounded for the next four months. After the Arsenal defeat, West Ham were still languishing near the foot of the Premier League but still showing signs of distinct improvement.

When football returned with Project Restart at the end of June, the cynics were still scoffing at West Ham's chances of survival in the top flight. It seemed that failure had been hard-wired into their system so few gave them any chance whatsoever. Their opening defeat at home to Wolves was somehow unavoidable given the kind of devastating form Wolves had shown before the breakdown. Then there was a meek 2-0 defeat and submission to West Ham's neighbours Spurs although some believed that the good times were just around the corner.

After a weak and insipid defeat at home to Burnley, West Ham finally saw the light of the day. In an engrossing London derby at home to Chelsea, West Ham showed all the character and convincing attacking football that used to be a hallmark of their football when everything was going their way. After they'd given away a needless penalty just before half time, West Ham immediately sent in the cavalry and after Thomas Soucek had headed in the Hammers equaliser, West Ham began to spread their expansive and free flowing football all across the green Stratford acres.

 Declan Rice, now at the heart of some of West Ham's most intuitive moments, found Michal Antonio who, falling in the penalty box, leapt up swiftly again. Jarrod Bowen, all directness and positive running, cut the ball back and Antonio slipped the ball firmly into the net for West Ham's second equaliser. Rice scored a peach of a goal from way outside the Chelsea penalty area with an explosive shot that arrowed its way past the Chelsea goalkeeper and into the roof of the net.

A victory over Chelsea gave West Ham's football a sharp injection of confidence. When the East London club demolished an already relegated Norwich City 4-0 at Carrow Road, it was widely believed that West Ham had staved off the impending threat of relegation. The worst was over for the team in claret and blue. The highly impressive and accomplished 3-1 victory over Watford was enough to get rid of Watford's manager Nigel Pearson.

So ladies and gentlemen. Your football team have once again survived the shark infested waters of the Premier League. For well over 40 years now your brave commentator on life has observed the fortunes of his team through heads buried in hands, eyes closed and a growing realisation that things can hardly get any worse or better. You reach the conclusion that there is no middle ground with West Ham, an acceptance of the status quo quite certainly and just look on with a wry amusement.

There is of course an ever present gallows humour evident whenever West Ham reach the point where they simply can't cope anymore. So you giggle under your breath, share the good times as well as the rough and smooth in equal measure. After yet another season of helter- skelter turbulence the season will end on Sunday and some of us just want to celebrate survival in the Premier League. Hey ho! Football is indeed wonderful and we wouldn't want it any other way.