For West Ham and their supporters, it has been a Clockwise sort of season.
One that may remind some of the nailbitingly comic film in which John Cleese’s headmaster, by turns encouraged and frustrated in his efforts to drive to an event that means so much to him — the Headmasters’ Conference, of which he has been made president — declares: “It’s not the despair, Laura. I can take the despair. It’s the hope I can’t stand.”
West Ham’s ‘Headmasters’ Conference’ is the Premier League and, although experience has equipped them for dealing with despair in normal circumstances, hope keeps intruding in the form of convincing away wins.
That Barnsley should be followed by yet another disappointment at home — though it could have been worse because Sam Allardyce’s team were 3-1 down before drawing with Birmingham — was characteristic of a campaign now almost certain to culminate in the play-offs. Reports that they plan to apply to play both legs of their semi-final on the opposition’s ground are frivolous.
Less so is a suspicion that the players have become nervous about presenting Upton Park with football that hardly conforms to Danny Blanchflower’s glorious vision or — to stay closer to home — the traditions associated with Ron Greenwood and John Lyall.
Romantics mentioning this leave themselves open, or at least ajar, to derision. But East Londoners scan football’s horizon and see football that would have gladdened those luminaries’ hearts: at Swansea, notably. There, promotion has been followed by stylistic development and something comparable might happen if Reading, recently triumphant at West Ham, proceed to the Premier League.
Last night Brian McDermott’s men merely scraped a win at Brighton, whose Guy Poyet can be expected to take a bold approach on Saturday because they urgently need points. And where does fate send Brighton? To Upton Park. Stand by for hope and despair.
