It wasn’t the greatest start to the season, was it? I know this because as I started to write this, whilst West Ham were 2–0 up against Wolves, I had no confidence whatsoever that we would actually win the match. Lo and behold, just before half-time, Wolves scored. And there it was. That familiar feeling, which I still passionately believe only West Ham supporters are familiar with. You know, the one we collectively had through last season too: the sudden tightening in the stomach, the creeping anxiety that arrives almost immediately, despite us still being ahead. We all know what comes next. The only question is when.
The Premature Wave of Summer Optimism
Only moments earlier, I had made the mistake of beginning to feel optimistic. Perhaps, this was the performance we had been waiting for. This would be the turning point after a completely underwhelming start to the season. Now I was wondering how badly the second half could go, how long it would be before they equalised and how many minutes into injury time they would score the winner. Supporting West Ham can be an exhausting business. In the absence of sustained success, it is built on hope, fortune and the occasional inexplicable result. At the beginning of every season, hope arrives almost automatically. This season, perhaps more than most. The previous campaign is behind us, thankfully. The disappointments, and there were many, have been pushed to one side, at least temporarily. A few months ago, every West Ham fan took a look at the fixture list and started doing the maths. We all said things like, “Surely we’ll beat them.” Or “We could get something there.” Or, as I predicted in the last issue: “Our biggest win of the season will come against Charlton.” Ha. I was congratulating myself, figuring out how many points we were going to get using my complicated formula, which basically involved us averaging 1.9 points per game and ending up with somewhere around 87 or 88 points. That was then before the loss of the 2–0 lead to Burnley, the disappointing draws, and the defeat to Charlton, making me look rather silly.
Oscillating Between Social Media Madness and Matchday Dread
Suddenly, the optimism of the summer feels naïve. Social media, naturally, loses its mind. One poor performance becomes evidence that everything is broken. One good performance is either dismissed as an exception or used as proof that anyone who dared to question the team was never a proper supporter in the first place. We are a club capable of giving our supporters genuine reasons to dream, while simultaneously providing enough evidence to make us suspicious of our own optimism. So, against our better judgement, we hope. Then we go 2–0 up against Wolves, and suddenly, everything feels possible again. The previous few weeks haven’t disappeared from memory, but they become less important. You begin to wonder whether this is the turning point. Perhaps the players are beginning to understand each other. Maybe the system is finally clicking. Then the opposition score. And within seconds, hope has been joined by anxiety. Every misplaced pass becomes significant. Every opposition attack feels dangerous. You start looking at the clock far more often than you probably should. Five minutes somehow feels like half an hour. The score hasn’t even changed in their favour. We’re still winning. But emotionally, everything has changed.
The Emotional Reality of Supporting West Ham
Perhaps that’s what supporting West Ham is really like. It isn’t simply hope or despair. It is the constant movement between the two. We tell ourselves not to get carried away when things are good. We convince ourselves that everything is a disaster when things are bad. And yet, somehow, neither position lasts very long. One goal can change everything. Of course, a sensible person might ask why we put ourselves through it. Why allow ourselves to hope when disappointment is always possible? Why invest so much emotion in something entirely beyond our control? But if we could somehow remove hope from supporting West Ham, what would be left? We could watch every game with detached cynicism. Never get too excited about a new signing. Never believe that a good performance might be the start of something bigger. Predict disappointment and congratulate ourselves whenever we are proven right. But where would be the fun in that? The hope is the whole point.
Why Hope Remains the Engine of the Fan Experience
It’s there when the fixture list is released. It is there when a new player arrives. It is there when a young player breaks into the team, when a goal is scored, or when, for a few glorious moments, you allow yourself to think that perhaps this could finally be our year to do something. Hope makes the disappointments hurt more, but it also makes the good moments matter. And so, despite everything we have seen before, we keep coming back. We start every season telling ourselves we will be more measured this time. We promise not to get carried away. We approach things with realism. Then something happens – a goal, a win, a performance, and we’re off again with the hope.
Final Whistle Relief and Looking Forward
It’s now 10pm and as I finish writing this, we’ve won 4–2. We weren’t brilliant, but we got there. And somehow, after all the anxiety, the frustration and the doubts, that feels like enough. By the time you read this, the result will be old news. Perhaps that’s fitting – because supporting West Ham isn’t really about knowing what happens next. If we did, there would be no hope. For now, hope is back. Now, what are the odds on West Ham finishing top again?
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