Oh what fun it is to see West Ham win away

Fulham 1 West Ham 2

It’s different up west. Walking from Fulham Broadway it’s lunch at Pret a Manger instead of Ken’s Café and bistros instead of Belly Busters. At the Local Hero cafe Matt and Lisa are asked by a woman to look after her handbag while she goes to the loo. Now that wouldn't happen in Green Street.

Through leafy village-like streets we find the Cottage pub. Inside they take credit cards, it’s safe to wear your colours and Fulham fans politely make room for you at the bar. Fraser, Matt, Lisa, Nigel, Jo and Mike and two of Fraser’s Fulham mates are all here as we discuss the possibilities of Zamora, Konchesky, Paintsil and Bullard scoring against us (near to certain) over a civilised pint of London Pride.

A gentle amble to the ground past the “Neutral section” of the Putney Road stand (is there such thing as a neutral football fan?) and we take our seats, which are practically in the Thames. The river looks glorious in the sunlight and there’s always the prospect of watching the boats go by should we be crap.

“Shame the boat race isn’t on,” I muse.

“No, the same two teams get to the final every year,” says Nigel.

Zamora and Paintsil receive applause and songs from the away fans. Despite the Sheffield United judgment our fans give constant spirited support, as always.

For the first 40 minutes Fulham have the better of it as we give away a series of free kicks around our box. Davies volleys wide, and Green saves well from Bullard before being clattered by Paintsil, who is suddenly abused by the fans who thought he was better than Kaka a few minutes earlier. Zamora puts a header wide, thankfully looking more like the inconsistent finisher we sold.

Andy Johnson lunges in studs first at Ilunga and is lucky to only receive a yellow card. Parker and Noble are working tremendously hard in the middle but we’re creating little. Carlton Cole meanwhile is constantly controlling the ball but running into trouble.

“When he was arrested was it for performing an endless three-point turn?” I ask.

“We’ve got Craig Bellamy!” sing our fans as our Welsh irritant warms up.

“Not for long we haven’t,” suggests Matt, “he’s hardly ever played for us.”

Just as we’re saying we’d be happy to get to half time at 0-0 we score. Having been clattered in the right by Konchesky, Etherington recovers to sprint down the right, an area he hasn’t been seen in since the days of the Domesday Book. Incredibly he crosses with his right foot, Schwarzer can’t hold it and the ball falls to Carlton Cole to wallop home.

“Let’s raise a glass to Carlton Cole!” suggests Matt.

“Always believe in Carlton Cole!” sing the 2500-strong Spandeau Ballet revivalist contingent.

“Now would be good time to score another,” says Mystic Fraser, and 20 seconds later we do. Noble plays a through ball, the Fulham defence scarpers and the rejuvenated Matty Etherington bats the keeper to slot home his second goal in a week. And then Johnson gets sent off for his second yellow card and surely even we can’t blow this?

In the second half Fulham fight back, despite being down to ten men, and as ever we struggle to keep a 2-0 lead. Neill handles in the box and Murphy makes it 2-1.

But we are still playing some good attacking football and have numerous chances to finish Fulham off. Ilunga, looking strong and a real find at left back, produces a good save from Schwarzer.

Nigel receives a text saying that Paul Newman has died. We wonder if Hayden Mullins will come on as a midfield Hustler and if Al Fayed will show us the Colour of Money.

Etherington makes a great run down the left only to slice the ball into the side netting causing the vicar’s son by me to curse “How many f**king chances do we need? That was a pile of dog poo Etherington!”

Substitute Bellamy puts a volley over an open goal, Carlton Cole, having a great second half, has another shot saved and then Behrami, looking stronger and fitter as the game goes on, is the latest Iron to go close.

There’s still time for Zamora to not connect with an inviting free kick and Bullard to place an injury-time free-kick into the wall.

At last the whistle blows and it’s three points and stuff those litigious whingers from Sheffield. Tottenham are going toxic, Arsenal are about to lose to Hull and we’re up to fifth. And once we’re in the Champions League we’ll easily raise that £30 million.

What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger

Another day another disaster. Carlton Cole has been arrested for drink-driving, being stopped by the Old Bill on Tuesday night at 4.30am, just three days after Zola was talking about him playing for England.

Zola claims that Cole is now a different, more mature player to the one he was at Chelsea, but that he will “have to learn to look after his body”. And also, presumably, that drink-driving risks killing innocent people.

Meanwhile Dean Ashton, having injured himself in training on Zola's first day, is now having an operation on his dodgy ankle. It’s interesting that one of the “sources” close to the club dissed Curbs to the press for wanting to accept Spurs’ £18 million offer for Ashton. He’s a great player, but maybe Curbishley realised his fitness was more of an issue than we thought.

Oh, and Sheffield United players might also sue us for loss of earnings on top of the £30 million the club wants. Zola is right when he says that not even Maradona could win a game on his own and such rulings endanger the future of all competitive sport.

But perhaps strength comes through adversity. As Nietzsche, whoever he played for, once said: “What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.”

We are West Ham and we’ve been through the dark days at Rotherham. We came back to reach the Premiership and the Cup Final and we can do so again.

At times like this it’s appropriate to draw consolation from the greatest ever Doctor Who story Genesis of the Daleks:

“We are entombed but we live on! This is only the beginning! We will prepare! We will grow stronger! When the time is right we will emerge and take our rightful place as the supreme power in the Universe!!!”

And maybe even make the fourth round of the Carling Cup.

Another fine mess

Very West Ham. Two seasons on, an obscure independent tribunal has decided to rule in favour of Sheffield United over the Carlos Tevez affair and it might cost us a mere £30 million in compensation.

You do wonder why we didn’t go to court over this as we have a strong case. The Premiership punished us with a £5 million fine, so surely any fault is theirs? You also wonder why Terry Brown and Paul Aldridge have not been called to give public evidence and why Tevez’ then-owner, Kia Joorabchian, is still apparently advising West Ham over transfers and indeed criticizing Curbs’ transfer record after the man has resigned.

And how can a tribunal rule that Tevez was worth an extra three points? Martin Samuel has written an excellent piece in today's Times on the absurdity of lawyers (the panel was former MCC president Lord Griffiths, Sir Anthony Colman, a former High Court judge, and Robert Englehart QC) predicting the results of football matches. It was 20 odd games before Tevez scored for West Ham! Sheffield’s argument seems to be based on the fact that Marlon Harewood would not have been as good as Tevez... which a good brief could surely demolish as Marlon scored 16 goals the previous season compared to Tevez’ seven.

And anyway, it could be argued that it was the inspired performances of Hayden Mullins that really kept us up. And what about Christian Dailly who was so good that several thousand Hammers fans were offering him sexual relations with their spouses? ("Oh Cristian Dailly, you are the love of my life, oh Christian Dailly you can shag my wife!") Tevez never received that kind of offer.

Another point is that none of the people involved are now at the club — bar chief executive Scott Duxbury whom the Daily Mail claims gave "oral assurances" to Joorabchian's representatives that the third party agreement was still in place, despite the club saying it had been ripped up. This claim is denied by the club. Yet it’s the fans that will, as always, be penalized. And then to have to suffer Neil Warnock being sanctimonious…

Nurse, the screens.

Up the Junction

Watford 1 West Ham 0

We’ve lost £30 million and we’re out of the Carling Cup. Oh well, another day at West Ham. And we thought this season might be boring.

At least the Carling Cup defeat was softened by beer, white wine and a stuffed pepper thanks to our party (Iain, Alastair, Jo, Mike and Matt) blagging a box at Watford. You do have to wear a suit, but a nice touch is the fact they ring a bell for the start of each half as if it’s the theatre.

Among the prawn sandwich set we accosted England goalkeeping coach Ray Clemence, there to watch Watford’s Scott Loach, and explained to him and his Missus why Robert Green should be his number one. So expect Greeny to be an England fixture from now on.

Also observed in the boardroom was ex-Hammers chairman Terry Brown, the man in charge when we signed Tevez and Mascherano. A somewhat surprising day on which to appear in public.

It was a typical early round Carling Cup fixture. Our away support was as ever excellent, but vast sections of the ground were empty. Lastuvka made a fantastic one-handed save and looked a solid keeper until his misjudging of a cross caused Mullins’ own goal. Watford’s young side competed better than we did and dived into tackles and their winger Lionel Ainsworth looked a player with a big future. Boa Morte was terrible again, Sears still looks lightweight and Di Michele anonymous apart from one dribble to set up Noble for a shot that was well saved.

We improved when Parker came on, Lopez curled in some dangerous crosses, Etherington missed a free header, Faubert hit a free kick just over and Matty Upson hit the bar. But as the home end chanted “Yellow Army!” and “Premiership — you’re having a laugh!” and “Premiership — you fucked it up!” the inevitable happened and we lost to lower league opposition.

We retreated through the gloom to Watford Junction station with 10-year-old Watford fans chanting “Where’s your sponsor gone?’ at us.

Out of another trophy and thoroughly embarrassed to lose to the somewhat effete-sounding Yellow Army, aka the Golden Boys. We were not the only people going up the Junction — it might be the club as well.

Taking Di Michele

West Ham 3 Newcastle 1

“We’re all going on an XL holiday/ let’s get stranded for a week or two!” sang the chirpy Geordies on the District line. Followed by “You’re not flying anymore!” in the ground.

There’s no fanfare for Zola as we come on the pitch, but the applause seems warm enough. From the kick-off it’s apparent that he has new ideas. He’s dropped the Head on a Stick and plays Neill at centre back, where he looks much better. Faubert plays at right-back and Etherington and Di Michele float behind Carlton Cole. Cole beats a defender for speed and surges on goal as if inspired by Zola’s advice to learn from Maradona (ok lads, maybe not the handballs, drugs or chat shows).

“One Mike Ashley! There’s only one Mike Ashley!” chant the Bobby More Stand followed by “Where’s your Keegan gone?”

As seems obligatory at home matches we go 2-0 up. The Newcastle defence looks petrified by Cole’s muscular interventions. Di Michele lopes in a deflected shot and then has a shot saved by Given before chipping the ball over the prostrate Colocinni and volleying in a Di Canio-esque finish. He over-elaborates at times and can be selfish, but on this evidence he has the class to become an Upton Park favourite.

"Down with the Tottenham! You're going down with the Tottenham!" we chant.

“We don’t even have a song for Zola yet…” muses Matt.

“What about ‘Hello hello Zola’ by the Kinks?” I suggest.

“Followed by ‘We’ve got Carlton Cola’, adds Matt.

“And Julien Faubert…’ I finish. Right, that’s the song sorted.

Early in the second half Newcastle have more possession. To the amusement of Nigel, Mystic Matt sighs “We’re not playing well we don’t deserve to be leading,” seconds before Cole plays a superb through ball to Di Michele who crosses for Etherington — relishing his now floating role and, ahem, taking a gamble in the box — to stroke home.

The Newcastle fans are regaled with choruses of “Three–nil to the Cockney Mafia!” and the superb cockney humour of “Your messiah is a c••t!”

The open midfield makes the game seem like a throwback to the 1970s. Di Michele misses a great chance to get his hat-trick, but this being West Ham, we let Owen score with a fine finish and then Duff has a shot saved by Green. Matt starts talking about the Wimbledon and WBA games (3-0up, 4-3 down). But then Boa Morte comes on (yes, Zola is a Boa Selector) and blazes over before missing a one-on-one.

There’s a full-house, sunshine and warm applause. The DJ plays Golden Years by Bowie as we leave, which seems a little over-optimistic. But just as long as we play Newcastle every week we should be fine.

Claret and Blue Monday

As capitalism and WHU sponsor XL collapses under the weight of its own internal contradictions (and Dean Ashton's thighs) tens of thousands of West Ham fans remain stranded miles from their promised destination of the Champions League.

"I wanted to visit Barcelona and Madrid, but all I've been offered is a trip to an Icelandic biscuit factory," said one angry fan.

Meanwhile West Ham claims that the use of a pioneering Zola-powered vehicle will still propel Hammers fans towards a European tour.

But City experts fear that the club has over-exposed itself in the sub-prime player market and traded it too many derivatives from Newcastle. Will the government step in? Or will West Ham have to merge with Chelsea — a process that some analyists believe has already begun.

Keen out!

WBA 3 West Ham 2

Good to see that Gianfranco Zola’s first job at the club was to find his mum’s old claret curtains from the attic and hastily get out the Singer sewing machine to patch over our XL logo. Still, I expect there’s a deal with Lehman coming up.

With rare rays of sunlight illuminating the metropolis, my Saturday afternoon involved a family trip to a previously undiscovered section of Hampstead Heath. We ambled past previously undiscovered ponds and woods towards Golders Green, before ending the afternoon with a pint of Autumn Gold in the Spaniards Inn. There was always the temptation to text someone for the score, but somehow I knew it might intrude horribly upon our bucolic ramblings.

But upon returning home and turning on Setanta Sports News, there it was. “Bastards! Stupid stupid Bastards!” I exclaimed in the manner of Michael Palin in Ripping Yarns. Somehow the West Ham diehard knows that a 3-2 defeat at WBA must have involved a late goal and an injury to Deano. While Bobby Zamora suddenly looks England class at Fulham.

The evidence on Match of the Day suggests a great game but three defensive blunders from the Irons, although it looked like Green played the ball first for the penalty. Upson lost Morrison for the first and Albion’s winner involved the Hammers defence leaving a space wider than Mike Ashley’s vacant seat. Our back four, minus Ferdinand and McCartney, parted with the alacrity of bankers in search of a redundancy cheque. At least Curbs knew how to close out a game.

We shouldn’t be losing to newly promoted sides, but on the positive side we came back to take the lead, scored from a corner again and Di Michele and Parker missed great chances. New left-back Ilunga was said to have had a sound debut too.

And so young Kevin Keen, aged 16, has played one, lost one. Now it’s over to Zola and Steve Clarke, who’s cost us another £1 million in compensation just to replace Mervyn Day. Hopefully Clarke was the backroom genius who made Mourinho look so good and at least he’s not Dennis Wise.

One final thought. If it wasn’t for the collapse of XL we might have been able to buy Newcastle as our feeder club.