Home truths

West Ham 1 Bolton 2

In Ken’s Café we find a face from the past, Mike P, definitely not the inspiration for Porky’s seminal Part-Time Percy cartoons in Fortune’s Always Hiding.

These days Mike’s living in deepest Hertfordshire. He’s with his two kids and is one of the “million” West Ham fans David Sullivan is inviting to rejoin us in the programme. He’s too embarrassed to say when he last saw a game but he does say that he’s looking forward to seeing West Hampstead play again. And he’s reassured that like the clock at Grantchester, Ken’s Café never changes (Big Joe arriving breathless, DC arriving after kick-off, Carol bawling out numbers, Don looking downcast after home defeats, Etc).

Nigel arrives with CQ (Mrs Nigel) and The Gav, fortified by last night’s Heavy Metal Britannnia documentary. While in the queue for the counter Phill Jupitus reveals that he’s been busy working on Good Morning Nantwich, his new book about breakfast show DJs, out in August. Let's all buy it and keep him in toasted cheese sarnies.

It’s all very jolly until we remember that we always lose to Bolton.
Sure enough, we’re two goals down after 16 minutes. Lee has acres of space on the right and crosses. It looks as if Tomkins should head it, but he gets under the ball and Kevin Davies bullets the ball home with his bonce. Diamanti goes close with a free kick but then Tomkins tried to shepherd the ball out for a goal kick, only Davies nicks in and crosses for Cohen to set up the impressive on-loan Gooner Jack Wilshere to volley home. Bolton only have a few hundred fans in the away section and even they can't believe it.

Bolton are really coming at us and passing impressively. It’s nearly three when Elmander first misses from an angle and then wildly firing over after another tantalizing cross — an absolute sitter.

We look flat all over the park. Spector and Tomkins are being exposed and Franco is muscled off the ball. Diamanti does produce a good save from another free kick and Carlton looks certain to score only to be robbed by a well-timed tackle from Ricketts.

Nigel wonders if this will be Zola’s last game for the club. The owners won’t be impressed, particularly if we lose at Chelsea and Arsenal. In the second half we bring on three subs, Dyer for the injured Faubert after 47 minutes, with Behrami going to right-back, Mido for Franco and Stanislas for Kovac. Dyer shows one or two glimpses of speed and the player he could have been if injury hadn’t intervened.

The referee helpfully sends off Bolton's Cohen for a second yellow card but as ever we still struggle against ten men.

My kids have wisely opted to see Mamma Mia the Musical instead of this.

“The winner takes it all…” I mutter, “ and West Ham are sending out an SOS.”

“This could be our Waterloo,” suggests Nigel.

Just as we’ve settled for numbing defeat, on 88 minutes Diamanti curls in a beauty from the edge of the box. Oh no, we have hope.

On 90 minutes I have to break the habit of a lifetime and leave early as I’m reading for the Newham Bookshop in support of Book Aid at Stratford Circus at 5.20. I feel like Part-Time Percy myself, jogging to the tube, and there’s still a big queue when I get there.

In the five minutes of added time Zat Knight crosses for Davies to hit the bar for Notlob (the palindrome of Bolton as John Cleese would tell you) and at the death Junior Stanislas chests down and volleys against the underside of the bar. A big "Oooh!' comes from the stadium as I gaze at the brick wall while kettled by Upton Park tube.

A win today would have left us looking safe; instead we’re two points behind Bolton facing Chelsea and Arsenal away. Now our fate may not be decided until the last Sunday of the season. Mamma Mia, here we go again.

Wheeling and dealing

Well, Gianluca Nani has finally gone, a little unluckily in that, Savio apart, he's picked up some decent free transfers, plus Diamanti, Ilunga and Behrami. What's probably done for him is a reluctance to deal in English players. So the old director-of-football system has gone and really it looks doubtful if Sullivan and Gold trust Zola (unproven in the market) to buy players. The signings of Mido and McCarthy seem to have come directly from the Club Landlords.

An interesting article in the Daily Telegraph today claims that Sullivan has vetoed a five-year contract for Behrami and wants to cash in on Valon and Diamanti, putting him at odds with Zola. He's also refused a new contract for Collison it claims.

In Sullivan's defence, five-year contracts proved disastrous in the cases of Ashton, Dyer and Ljungberg and we are £100 million in debt. And Behrami has three years left on his current contract.

The Telegraph has a number of "sources" at Upton Park claiming that Zola is unhappy, and sad to say, it will be no surprise to me if he's gone at the end of the season and Mark Hughes installed.

The horror, the horror

Our horror accounts are out and we recorded a loss of £16 million in 2009-10. They also lay bare many disasters. The Mail highlighted “£12 million on two men for 15 games” (that was Davenport and Quashie) while the Independent’s “horror accounts” highlighted the £34 million that Dyer and Ljungberg cost us over the length of their contracts.
What’s striking is how it could all have been avoided. We’ve wasted:

£34 on Ljungberg and Dyer

£12 million on Quashie and Davenport

£5.8 on giving Dean Ashton a five-year contract when he was crocked

£21 million to Sheffield United for Tevez-gate

£5 million fine for Tevezgate.

£10 million (by my estimate) on transfer fee and wages for Luis Boa Morte (no-one seems to have spotted this).

£2.5 million for sacking Curbs

£1.5 million (my estimate) to pay off Pards.

That's more than £100 million! And all this when we had the brilliant Tony Carr producing a never-ending stream of fine young players on low wages such as Noble, Ferdinand, Stanislas, Collison, Tomkins, etc. Even free transfer Nobby Solano achieved much more than Dyer and Ljungberg. A fine example of how not to run a football club.

Wayne's world

Manchester United 3 West Ham 0

It’s a toss-up between Charlie Nicholas on Sky Sports News or 5 Live. Eventually I settle for the radio on the TV, while Her Indoors does her sewing and says she doesn’t want to listen to West Ham how about Mad Men on catch-up TV – all accompanied by our yapping border terrier Vulcan who can hear a fox (in the box?) outside and is running around like Mad Martin Allen in the mating season.

Sounds like we are quite bright early on with Behrami going close and Diamanti’s shot spilled on the line by Foster. And you can hear Bubbles on the radio every time we get a corner. Must be Big Joe, who’s in attendance.

Inevitably I miss the first goal while saying goodnight to the kids and it’s game over. (A fine header from Rooney after a first time cross from Berabatov). Park hits the bar at the start of the second half and then Rooney bags a second header while I’m upstairs joining a Facebook group. What a part-timer.

Owen adds the inevitable third - another player whose season we’ve resurrected. Maybe Don Draper would be better viewing? His suits do look cool. Oh, and someone called Kieron Dyer has come on to the pitch for 15 minutes – no, that can’t be true, must be Virgin’s bad reception or a jarred scart lead.

Never expected much tonight and United are always dangerous after a defeat. Zola was clearly right to rest Parker so he couldn’t be booked and suspended for our next game — yet another cup final against Bolton.

Jedward the second

Thanks to Dadly Don for pointing out that in Behrami and Kovac we now have Jedward in midfield, perhaps accounting for our recent improved form and X Factor at Upton Park.

Jedward's barnets carry on a fine Hammers tradition of iffy coiffeur — remember Julian Dicks' Forrest Gump look, Frank McAvenie's Jason Donovan mullet, Trevor Morley's Hawaii 5-0 'tache, Gary Strodder's Guantanamo Bay Guard crop and David James' Simba from The Lion King-style braids?

Nurse, the screens.

London 3 Hull 0

West Ham 3 Hull City 0

The economies at West Ham are clearly biting; Match day announcer Jeremy Nicholas is sitting having his lunch in Ken’s Café. And no, I don’t think Carol takes credit cards.

I’m with my daughter nine-year-old Nell and her friend Fernanda, who wants to know if Ken’s has free-range meat. Hmm. I suggest the egg, chips and beans.

Nigel arrives with his mate Michael, as Matt is in South Africa thanks to a competition won by his WAG Lisa. Matt reports from SA that there are pictures of Benni McCarthy everywhere, although Nelson Mandela hasn’t as yet asked for a personal update on the Hammers’ fortunes.

“Why do adults always talk about boring stuff like money?” Nell asks Nigel. Clearly she’s heard too many interviews with Gold and Sullivan. “And why don’t they have toys?”

In the stadium Jeremy Nicholas announces our side individually but doesn’t read out the Hull City team. Is this a bizarre plot by the new regime to throw Hull into existential crisis? Will they think they don’t exist if they’re not named?

“No, Sullivan just wants to sell more programmes,” suggests the pragmatic Fraser.

It’s Bubbles time and it’s always a thrill to see a young kid experience the most romantic of football songs for the first time. Nell's pal looks amazed at the effect of 33,000 voices. She might live behind the Emirates but we’ll soon make her a Hammer.

We start well, attacking immediately. In the third minute Kovac dispossesses young Cairney plays the ball to Behrami, who finds Franco. Franco miscontrols it but the ball falls nicely for Valon to poke into the net.

Behrami nearly gets a hat-trick. Myhill tips aside one shot and then produces a brilliant save from a header from Diamanti’s cross.

The recalled Franco is holding play up well and we look much more confident against a side that frequently hacks at our heels. Hull come into it briefly with a couple of crosses from Fagan and some muscular work from Zaki but it’s not until the 45th minute that Boateng produces a fine tip-over from Green.

At the beginning of the second half things go our way. Fagan tries to pick Diamanti pocket with a shirt tug and is red carded for a second booking. Annoying little Stephen Hunt protests and is serenaded with “Where’s your caravan?”

Then on 59 minutes Faubert plays a fantastic through ball past a statuesque Hull defence and Carlton Cole races through to finish neatly. Two-nil in our cup final. They’ll be dancing in the streets of Cape Town.

There’s a wonderful moment when Diamanti sees Myhill off his line and almost scores from the half-way line, Pele-style. Diamanti gets his own song to the old “Nigel Reo-Coker!” tune. It’s just like watching Brazil (playing Hull). Tomkins is mopping up everything at the back and the Hull defence just can’t handle Cole.

Fortified by Haribos and chocolate Nell and Fernanda shout “Come on Hammers!” and “Boo Hull!”. Promising — as long as we can play Hull every week.

Hapless Hull bring on three subs and then go down to nine men when Gardener is injured. Surely even we can hold out against nine men?

“I think we’ll get a least a point,” says Nigel.

In stoppage time Faubert, fortified by a massage from Madam Bovary, breaks inside from the right and thumps a screamer into the top corner of the net. I start to feel more confident.

“Julien! Julien!” salutes the Bobby Moore Stand as the tattooed and recently much-improved full back leaps into the crowd. Since the death of his mother and his decision to play against Blackburn he seems to really appreciate the support from the Irons fans. A great time to score his first ever Hammers goal.

A clean sheet and two successive wins for the first time this season. That’ll do me.

A Personal Statement

This season I have had relationships with 11 men in East London. Recently I have associated with pornographers, purveyors of saucy underwear and a woman who says in her Sun column that Avram Grant’s face “looks world-weary enough to have been beaten all day with heavy-duty dildos”.

What I did was unacceptable. I hurt my wife, my kids, my wife's family, my friends, my foundation and kids all around the world who admired me.

I am the only person to blame. I knew my actions were wrong but I convinced myself that normal rules didn't apply and that West Ham were too good to go down. I never thought about who I was hurting, instead I thought only about myself.

I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to. I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me, even at £48 for an away trip to Arsenal. I felt I was entitled, and thanks to the District line, I didn't have to go far to find them.

I was wrong and I was foolish.

I've had a lot of time to think about what I've done. My failures have made me look at myself in a way I've never wanted to before. It's now up to me to make amends. And that starts by never repeating the mistakes I've made.

It's up to me to start living a life of integrity. It's hard to admit that I need help but I do.

For 45 days from the end of December to early February I was in in-patient therapy receiving guidance for the West Ham issues I'm facing. I have a long way to go. I have taken my first steps in the right direction.