West Ham - back at the top again- well, in a manner of speaking.

 West Ham- back at the top again- well, in a manner of speaking.

The autumnal yellowing leaves are scurrying, scampering around, chasing each other, always together and in unison, scudding and eddying in the wind, rustling and then whispering into each other's ears. The trees are holding on to their green foliage with admirable tenacity, refusing to accept the changing of the seasons. And at the London Stadium in London's East End, West Ham are also getting pretty excited since it's that transitional period of the season whereby you can almost feel a frisson of excitement in the pit of your stomach. Slowly but surely, though.

This hasn't happened for ages now but it isn't every day that West Ham have found themselves at the top of any division. The cynics are doubting, sniggering because they'll never believe in the impossible dream until it hits them between the eyes. And yet all the signs are deeply encouraging and not before time. Finally, West Ham are looking upwards rather than downwards. This may be the second tier of the Football League pyramid but what a joy it is to be among the exalted company of those who used to be our most loyal allies. 

Already this season West Ham have been beaten soundly by Charlton Athletic in their only defeat so far but then they managed to overcome recent Premier League rivals Bolton Wanderers, Wolves, Derby County and, on Saturday, top of the Championship Swansea. It was rather like a reconciliation of old friends, a renewal of acquaintances and that rich rapprochement of loyal buddies, good, old fashioned chums who, rather like West Ham, never really had a head for heights. But what goes around comes around. 

Finally though the bells are ringing, bubbles are blowing and there is a sense of mounting anticipation, the season that was always destined to be because for West Ham it can never be permanent, settled or stable. At some point dysfunctionality is bound to set in, mayhem and bedlam crashing into each other, the revolving door syndrome making its presence felt, going around in ever increasing circles. This time the feelgood factor lasted for 14 seasons which may represent a mini lifetime in the eyes of  those passionate West Ham fans who always want to believe. 

But then you somehow knew that it would all go belly up, completely to pot, rack and ruin, crumbling like parchment dust from the 13th century. When West Ham were promoted back to the Premier League in 2012 it almost felt like a false dawn. Under Sam Allardyce, their football had often been business like, workmanlike, earnest, occasionally attractive and exciting but, for the traditionalists, it wasn't the West Ham way. So although the club could hardly contain their joy and exultation, it all felt a bit anti- climactic, not quite the way it should have been but then there was a realisation that this was way it would have to be. 

Three years ago though Scotsman David Moyes moulded together an attacking West Ham unit to be proud of. European football had arrived at the London Stadium for the first time since Mafeking or the Crimean war and West Ham were dancing the night away. At the end of that momentous 2022-23 season, West Ham had stooped to conquer with a spectacular victory in the UEFA Conference Final against Fiorentina. 

Suddenly the chapel bells were echoing across Stratford, the shoppers buying and selling at the adjacent Westfield shopping mall were driving up the British economy to unimaginable heights and all was rosy in the garden. Their old Upton Park was now some ramshackle fringe theatre in desperate need of a lick of paint and renovation but, still the anxieties remained on the surface. There were underlying fault lines, kinks in the armour, loose nuts and bolts in the general mechanism. 

There were still, apparently, dirty stains from the Allardyce era, none more broadly highlighted than the famous Premier League victory at home to Hull City. But Allardyce was, and is, a nice guy, a good, honest and conscientious coach, one of the game's fire fighters, an expert in the field of salvation. But West Ham fans boos had now reached their loudest crescendo. This was dreadful, the lowest common denominator. It was atrocious football, football that belonged to the prehistoric period, where dinosaurs met huge, ugly monsters and it was all about kick and rush goalie, three and in at school. 

We bowed our heads in shame and disgust and tried to pretend that it was just an illusion, quite possibly a delusion, some nightmarish apocalypse that couldn't get any worse. So we endured and tolerated, wished Sam well and hoped it would all come all right on the day. It did for a while and eventually the club returned back to the Premier League in 2012 thanks to that unforgettable late spring day when West Ham beat Blackpool at Wembley in a Championship play off Final.

On Saturday West Ham hinted at yet greater achievements to come. Back in the second tier, the surroundings may have been unfamiliar and less than glamorous but don't tell the fans of Swansea that their ground should never be fit for a grandiose Premier League stage. Not for nothing are Swansea top of the Championship and on Saturday, West Ham summoned the Dunkirk fighting spirt, a resilience that hadn't been seen for quite a while, a backbone and vertebrae that was strong and sturdy. Happy days are back for West Ham.

The spine was upright and there was something nicely proportioned and balanced about West Ham. They were standing up and ready to be counted. West Ham are beginning to look like the finished article, the side who had so flourished so sparklingly under their former player and manager Harry Redknapp and, stunningly, under the late Glen Roeder. The golden generation consisting of Joe Cole, Frank Lampard, Michael Carrick and Jermaine Defoe had long gone but the heartbeat was still throbbing. 

This latest claret and blue edition are showing encouraging signs of  solidarity, a team bonding together and finding common ground, kindred spirits, brothers in adversity, marching to the beat, carefree, bubbling with bravado. Their local midfield player Divine Mukasa is only 19 years old but there is a troubling fear that so good has Mukasa been so far for West Ham that Manchester City may want him back come the end of this season. He has that spatial awareness and those visionary qualities that remind some of a Joe Cole and the loyalists at the London Stadium are consumed with worry. 

Before the start of the season West Ham had filled the gaping hole in their midfield left void by Matheus Fernandes who jumped ship for Tottenham. Arne Engels is slowly settling his roots into the West Ham family and although there have been one or two tentative wobbles at times, Engels is a Belgian philosopher, always thinking, plotting and scheming. Celtic reluctantly let Engels go but the signs are that eventually he'll come up with the goods at West Ham. There is something about a West Ham midfield that always feels creative and something that is culturally satisfying. 

Manor Solomon, the Israeli winger, is a work in progress and although there have been flashes of liveliness and impish brilliance, Solomon has yet to sell himself to the grumbling, disgruntled West Ham fans. On Saturday Solomon darted then drifted before running purposefully at Swansea's slightly disconcerted defence. Jarrod Bowen, the club captain, can never do anything wrong, taking his defenders on an epic journey. 

And now there is Mohammad Kante, a French stylist from the West Ham academy. To all outward appearances, Kante looks awkward, unsure of his footing, clumsy sporadically. He rumbles forward like a steam locomotive, puffing and panting, almost resigned to losing the ball without intentionally doing so. But there is an imagination stirring inside Kante, a willingness to explore different options, a technically skilful player more than capable of dismantling a defence rather like a mechanic stripping down a car.  

At the back Konstantinos Mavropanos, a Greek defender bearing gifts but never smashing plates is accompanied by Max Kilman with the Brazilian Morato overlapping positively on the flank. Mavropanos looked totally out of his depth as did Kilman in the Premier League. But the Championship is much more to both  players liking. Mavropanos has scored some vitally important goals from set pieces, both corners and free kicks so this could be West Ham's trump card. 

With Pablo, the Brazilian ploughing a lone furrow up front, there have been occasions when it all looks too slow and cumbersome, the ball travelling up and down the pitch like a beach ball and then treated like a hot potato. There can be nothing wrong with the intricate passing game at all but for West Ham  the possession based game is not the template set by Manchester City. It was rather like watching somebody who had pressed the stop button on an old tape recorder. The music could still be heard but it was all over elaborate and not really audible.

But West Ham are now a point behind Swansea at the top of the Championship. The Premier League is still a distant lighthouse and there is a great deal that can still go completely wrong. Christmas beckons and that's normally the festival West Ham used to dread. The music hall comedians always parodied West Ham as the team who came down with the festive decorations after Santa had paid his traditionally fleeting visit.

This Saturday Southampton are the visitors at the London Stadium and the Saints are still paragons of virtue at times. Their football is perhaps too well behaved and mannered, a side though still stuck in treacle, once of Premier League stock but always unpredictable. Right at the beginning of the season West Ham went to St Mary's and pulverised Southampton with a 4-1 victory that may have been the starting point for West Ham's season. `

Some of us though are quietly content with a job well done so far. But the stormy seas have yet to be negotiated and we are talking about West Ham. This is a team that flatters to deceive, whose history and heritage is too well established but quite often questionable to all and sundry. The fast, free flowing, fluent West Ham can wipe out the opposition in no time at all. But then the wheels may come flying off, tyres punctured and within the bat of an eyelid, it could all become very painstaking and too deliberate for words.

We are now accustomed to where this season may take us. Still, let us that hope that by May our worst fears have not been confirmed. Premier League football for the happy Hammers still sounds like a jazz classic but then all they may need is a couple of melodious saxophonists. The vibes though sound very promising and we will watch this space.