At what point is it acceptable to concede defeat and walk away from a dire situation?
In social, romantic and work situations, it’s widely framed as healthy to know when to cut your losses. But in a sporting context? I’m not so sure.
It’s not over till it’s over. Play to the whistle. Leave it all on the pitch. West Ham till I die.
These are the rules we live by. Not “West Ham till we’re 2-0 down in the 75th minute.”
The farcical scene of fans trying to regain entry in the dramatic FA Cup quarter-final brought the issue back into sharp relief, but I’d been pondering it for a fortnight before that, prompted by the satisfying death knell of Arsenal’s quadruple hopes.
A Growing Culture of Early Exits
With at least 15 minutes still to go in the Carabao Cup Final, so at the same time as Dominic Calvert-Lewin’s penalty appeared to crush our cup dreams, several of the Gunners faithful could be seen departing Wembley.
“What sore losers” was my reaction. The disappointment is perfectly understandable, but ourselves and Leeds were fighting just for the rare opportunity to play a semi-final at Wembley.
Maybe it’s a case of how the other half live – or, rather, the other 3-4% based on the number of Football League clubs who’d take such an occasion for granted – but if I were lucky enough to watch West Ham in a final then I’d be there for the medal ceremony to show my appreciation, regardless of whatever disappointment preceded it.
More to the point, did those Arsenal fans – so used to seeing their team record positive results – really have zero belief that they could yet emerge victorious?
Granted, they didn’t, and nor did we, partially sparing the blushes of those who were a bit premature in their withdrawal.
The fact is that the odds are never in the losing team’s favour, and to constantly expect the unexpected would be a fool’s mindset. On the other hand, however, the capricious nature of sport is a large part of its appeal.
Sympathy and Stadium Logistics
I have more sympathy for the England fans subjected to two lifeless Wembley friendlies during the last international break. With nothing but national pride and World Cup squad ramifications riding on either match, the thousands upon thousands of early leavers were never going to miss much, although as with us versus Leeds, injury time brought all the excitement against Uruguay.
Empty seats are not an entirely new phenomenon but modern life seems to have exacerbated it. For one thing, attendances are not drawn primarily from the local populace any more. If you have a last train to catch or hundreds or miles to travel, then sometimes needs must.
Conversely, in the 21st-century days of VAR and multiple substitutions, the 90th minute doesn’t necessarily signal the last knockings. In fairness, who saw those 11 minutes of added time coming against Leeds?
As a neutral, I’ve skipped out before the end in order to beat the rush. But as a West Ham fan, never.
Consumers Versus True Supporters
Truth is, my match-going habits probably have something to do with that. Geographical and financial constraints limit my visits to the London Stadium, so if I’ve paid a small fortune to watch us get drubbed 0-5 by Liverpool then I’m staying for the entirety, even if there’s a worryingly sadomasochistic bent to that.
If you’ve seen us get thrashed once or twice already that season then fair do’s if you don’t want to hang around on the off chance of a late consolation goal.
Any insistence that people should stay till the bitter end could therefore have me branded a hypocrite by those who invest far more of their own time and money into the club.
And there’s undoubted logic in the view that those who dispense with their hard-earned cash reserve the right to boo or vote with their feet.
The hitch is, how many of the people who subscribe to this view also rail against being treated as consumers rather than supporters?
Sticking It Out Until the Bitter End
Ultimately, for me, the clue is in the name. When I am in attendance, I’m there to support West Ham. That doesn’t mean happy-clappy blind optimism with no dissent allowed; shows of displeasure are natural and healthy. But ‘West Ham till I die’ means sticking it out till the end, whatever pain that might bring.
It’s also part of being the West Ham family. I am one with the team and walking out on them seems like a dereliction of duty.
Frustrating defeats are part and parcel of sport, even more so than stirring comebacks, and having been on the receiving end of a fair few trouncings during my youthful playing days, I know it wouldn’t have been helpful to have looked to the sideline and seen the dads trudging towards the carpark.
Ever-increasing consumerism in football fails to put an accurate value on loyalty, but fans leaving early further depreciates our worth.
Scenes of people flooding towards the exits with plenty of time still to play have become commonplace at grounds around the country, but let’s put it this way: I’d far rather see that happening at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium than at Stratford.
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