Winston wins it in (almost) perfect Boleyn send-off

The last supper in Ken's Cafe

West Ham 3 Manchester United 2

So it’s one last trip on the Hammersmith and City line to Upton Park. Green Street is full of fans with cameras during my walk to the Newham Bookshop at 5pm. A large crowd of fans are singing “We’ve Got Payet” round the World Cup statue and the word is they’ve been drinking since noon. Vivian and John are dispensing bottles of pale ale to the favoured. I sign two of my books for one of the Belgian Irons, a lecturer called Ivan from Antwerp. Then a fan from Sweden says he’s enjoyed them too and my suggestion is that Britain must surely remain in the EU to maintain these Newham/Europe links.

It’s on to Ken’s Café for a final egg chips and beans, bread and butter and cup of tea. Michael has decided to add some literal colour to the blog by dying his hair claret and blue. Even more controversially, he’s wearing a shirt with Jonathan Spector’s name on the back (which is liked by Mrs Spector on twitter). Matt’s there minus his unlucky Dukla Prague away shirt but in an early 1960s WHU top, along with claret-clad Lisa, who’s got a ticket from DC (who stops to eat, so momentous is the occasion). Nigel is in his claret-hooped away shirt for “the London derby” against MUFC. Big Joe arrives with Candy on a romantic dinner date while Phill Jupitus eats one last isotonic liver, bacon and mash, scarpering before Carol sees that he’s not finished his mash. As we leave for the match Carol dispenses kisses to us all.

Spector at the feast

Walking past the bus station to the East Stand Matt and Nigel recycle their papers behind the away coaches and in a middle-class fan dilemma wonder where the recycling facilities will be at Stratford.

Inside the East Stand we find free t-shirts, wrist bands and flag cards on our seats. Though Fraser refuses to compromise his mid-period Dexys look by wearing the shirt over his caret and blue neckerchief.

NIGHTMARE ON GREEN STREET

News come through that the kick-off has been postponed until 8.30pm because the Man United coach has been bottled. Lisa, in the Alpari, texts to say that it’s chaos in Green Street. I start to envisage FA bans and playing behind closed doors at the OS next season. The coach attack is inexcusable and stupid and is surely the result of people without tickets drinking all day; though as David Sullivan says, why couldn’t United have arrived earlier instead of close to 7pm? Everyone knew there would be huge crowds and traffic congestion. It also seems the police have lost control of the large numbers of fans. The bottle throwing is deplorable, but an early arrival would have minimised the security risks. My MUFC friend Robert texts to ask if it’s an ICF reunion.

Is it Javier Margas?

So the DJ has another 45 minutes to fill, which tests his CD box, though Nigel is pleased when Iron Man by Black Sabbath comes on, presumably borrowed from Slaven’s personal collection. We get My Way with a video, but no sign of Fraser’s legendary version of Bubbles by Frank Sinatra.

The sister of the bloke from the Treasury in front of us asks for a picture and reveals that we are known as ‘The Philosophers’ to her party. Must be Matt’s Socratic dialogues on Mark Clattenburg.

A brass band makes a reappearance at Upton Park for the first time since the 1970s (my dad would have enjoyed that) and plays a moving Abide With Me as pictures of our late stars are flashed up.

Lisa's view from the Alpari Stand

At kick-off there’s a hugely emotional Bubbles with the crowd divided into claret and blue blocks through wearing the free t-shirts. The misty, damp night adds to the atmosphere. It’s the loudest I’ve heard a West Ham crowd, beating the atmosphere of Ipswich in the Play-off semi-final and the Cup Winners ‘ Cup game against Eintracht Frankfurt.

HE SCORES WHEN HE WANTS

Suddenly a football match breaks out. West Ham show all the verve and commitment they were lacking against Swansea. Kouyate has a great game as a defensive shield with Noble more advanced. The Boleyn erupts after ten minutes as Cresswell finds Lanzini on the left and his pull-back is slotted into the corner by Sakho, with the aid of a deflection off Blind. “DIAFRA SAKHO HE SCORES WHEN HE WANTS!” roars the entire stadium.

The geezer behind us is an old school fan wanting Bonzo to effing well sort out Rooney, before politely asking Michael why he’s wearing a Spector shirt. Wayne Rooney also gets taunted about grandmothers.

West Ham have two good chances as Andy Carroll goes through in a one on one only to see his shot saved by De Gea and Payet curls a good chance wide. At half-time we wonder if not getting the second might be costly.

Down in the concourse Michael the Whovian finally gains courage (fortified by a few beers in the Boleyn) to ask for a photograph with actor Donald Sumpter, aka Lord High President of the Time Lords and also a young captain in The Sea Devils. Donald obliges. It doesn’t get better than this.

COME ON YOU IRONS

United appear galvanised in the second half and begin well. The Bobby Moore Stand refuse to give the ball back to De Gea and the delay seems to affect West Ham’s concentration. Mata skips past Ogbonna in the box and crosses for Martial to equalise. De Gea celebrates and gets a water bottle thrown at him and a not very witty East End chorus of “You Spanish c***!”

Carroll has a header cleared off the line but after 72 minutes United appear to have won it as Martial runs at Reid and scores from a seemingly impossible angle, beating Randolph at his near post.

But the crowd respond with a deep-throated roar of “Come on you Irons!” Sinews are strained, Mark Noble is everywhere and some kind of psycho-kinetic vortex, possibly inspired by Donald Sumpter, is sucking the ball towards the United goal.

Mystic Matt is just saying that Antonio doesn’t get headers anymore. Dimitri Payet hits a free kick into the wall, but given a second chance from the rebound he chips a lovely ball into the box for Antonio to rise and power a header into the top of the net and Upton Park erupts once more.

WINSTON, WINSTON REID!

Should we respect the point? Surely it can’t be a Hollywood ending? But there are seemingly higher powers at work here, and not just Andy Carroll.

Noble is hacked down again and from Payet’s free-kick Winston Reid heads into the net as De Gea gets a hand to it prevent a goal. Winston runs for the corner as there’s another mass outpouring of elation among the claret and blue hordes. Who put the ball in the Mancs' net? Winston, Winston Reid. 

West Ham threaten a fourth as the whole ground wills the Hammers home. We survive four minutes of added time and tumultuous cheers at the whistle nearly bring down the East Stand earlier than scheduled. We go sixth, which has been almost forgotten amid the mayhem.

Phew. Not much colour for the blog there. The players return for a lap of honour complete with Adrian holding his baby and lots of mini Dimitris. Then it’s Twist and Shout and Hi Ho Silver Lining as a stage is erected, possibly for Two Bob Ray from the Central.

GOODBYE TO BOLEYN 

In a way, after an evening like that, I’d just like the game itself to stand as a memorial to the Boleyn.

But after Sugar Hut-style lights, flames and fireworks the closing ceremony begins, compered by Sky Sports’ Bianca Westwood and Ben Shephard, though it should have been Jeremy Nicholas. Bianca talks to Carlton Cole and Marlon Harwood who both get some songs from the stands, but it’s all a bit long and doesn’t finish until 11.30pm.

The videos and taxis (was Alan Dickens driving one?) bringing in the former Hammers stars aren’t really necessary and perhaps they should just have stuck to Brooking, Di Canio, Martin Peters and Mark Noble. Bizarrely there’s no mention of Geoff Hurst either and Bonzo can’t make it, though Nigel gives Pottsy a standing ovation.

Still, Paolo gets it right by mentioning loyalty and passion and Mark Noble gets huge cheers for declaring: “I've got my family here, I mean every West Ham fan out there when I say my family. Thanks to every single one of you.”

The evening ends with the Cockney Rejects performing Bubbles. Just as well that they don’t do West Side Boys or War on the Terraces after the coach incident.

As the lights go out, announcing “Mr Moon has left the stadium” is a lovely touch at the end.

Everyone has to rush for the last tube at 11.30pm so no lingering last looks at Boleyn… We take one last visit to the Gents and ponder nicking the “no solid objects in the urinal” sign, but think better of it. Fraser and Michael, in a triumph of optimism over experience, venture off to see if the Central is open. I walk to East Ham with Nigel and Matt, where we get one of the  last trains.

It’s a shame that a few Herberts outside will get all the headlines, but inside the stadium it’s been a fitting tribute; exciting, exhausting, intimidating and thoroughly nerve-shredding. At 1 o'clock I finally make it home, and deprived of a last dodgy beer at the Central, break out a Bowmore whisky and toast our old friend — the Boleyn Ground.

PLAYER RATINGS: Randolph 6; Antonio 8, Ogbonna 7, Cresswell 7; Payet 8 (Valencia n/a), Lanzini 7 (Obiang 6), Kouyate 8, Noble 9; Sakho 8 (Tomkins n/a), Carroll 8.