Upton Park - Holy Ground and the Ten Commandments

What d’ya call a man with a spade on his head? Doug.

Ironic really as that is the name of the Scottish head groundsman at Upton Park.
Well, it made me chuckle. OK, let’s unravel a few more for the sheer hell of it.

What d’ya call a man with a seagull on his head? Cliff
What d’ya call a man with leaves on his head? Russell
What d’ya call a man who prays a lot? Neil
What d’ya call a man who can’t swim? Bob
What d’ya call a man on a beach? Sandy
What d’ya call a man with an invoice? Bill
What d’ya call a man who is good around the house? Andy
What d’ya call a man who supports Spurs? An ambulance. (sorry, couldn’t resist)

Ok, that should do it. Make up some yourself. Apparently western education has smashed the creativity out us and brainwashed everyone to thinking Doctors, Lawyers and Accountants are only at the top of the heap. Let me help you, here are three names and you can go for it. Knock yourself out.
Warren…
Tony…
Arthur…
Stick your best efforts in a comment and I’ll buy the winner a slushy. And I mean a real deal 32oz Speedway monster that has enough sugar to convert you to Type 1 Diabetes in 30 seconds.

OK, back to Doug. Oh, first take a look at this. It’s real deal TV time…haha!

OK, Doug again. He’s the head groundsman at Upton Park and gave us the story on why the pitch is so bloody magic. Basically, here is my version:

It’s like real and fake grass with a double dutch drainage vacuum system and night-time lighting to promote growth. I know, you can order something like that at the Starbucks drive through with 2 classic pumps. I mean, they can literally suck a puddle out of the pitch. I guess that solves what to do when Spurs play there and wet themselves. Fergie must have  had a bucket the night the Irons stuck 4 past them in the Cup. There’s only so much liquid any machine can handle.

So Dougie has a bunch of great stories about people wanting to spread ashes on Upton Park. Of course, you can’t do it as the chemicals used to embalm a body pre-cremation are like acid to the grass and kill it. So, you spread Uncle Harry’s ashes over the penalty box on Friday and everyone sees the Uncle Harry ‘dead’ patch Saturday afternoon. Pardon the pun.

I love West Ham. You know that – but behind the scenes they do stuff that everyone else hasn’t caught up with yet. The Hotel in the executive boxes. No where else in Britain and nearly all of Europe. The pitch. It is highly rated by the environment agency because it can take away water and push it back up to the surface, thus saving thousands of gallons. So, when you read concerns over the successful Olympic Stadium, just relax. It’ll be fine. West Ham are like one of my Nanny Self’s steamed puddings. No Mickey Mouse ‘stick it in the micro for 2 minutes’ trash. Give it time and it’ll come out right.

I wish I could share a few of Dougie’s stories, but I promised Ben I wouldn’t. Thicker than blood ‘n that. I will share this story. Alan ‘Alfie’ Boyce, my brother-in-law (who incidentally somehow is related to former West Ham player Ronnie ‘ticker’ Boyce and is a bloody good footballer and better than me, although I live with it because he once described me as ‘the most skillful player he knew’ – obviously has limited social contact) was booked once by a ref called Len Forge over at Eastwoodbury Lane. Len, the ref, also owned the land. He had a handful of average pitches and one floodlit pitch which was half decent. Anyway, we were playing a crap game in the late summer on a pitch with more in common to a highway central reservation in Guadalajara (i.e. 90% arid dirt with a few tufts of grass trying to prove Darwin’s theory of evolution had some credibility).

So, Alfie receives a pass and as the ball scoots over to him it takes a bobble which would be equivalent to Sir Richard Branson’s ‘Round the World’ Balloon taking a bump after hitting the summit if Everest while traveling in the Jet Stream at 150 mph. Alfie scuffs the pass and says (loudly) ‘Christ, this pitch is bad’. Len blows the whistle and pulls out the yellow card quicker that a fox nicking a chicken from the pen. Alfie asks why the yellow card. Len says ‘blasphemy – taking the Lord’s name in vain.’

I mean, come on. We all knew Len owned the pitches and, I guess he could have been a ‘God fearing man’. Next time saying something like ‘shit’ might have got the job done and saved the card. I mean, there are no commandments about saying shit, right? Killing, adultery, coveting etc all taboo. Profanity is OK as far as I am concerned.

Len has sadly passed now. They could have spread his ashes on the pitches, but they were already crap it wouldn’t have made any difference. So, what's the moral of the story? No idea. The education system has smashed any ability I have to think outside the box. It's only a miracle and the magic of Nanny's spotted dick that I didn't slip further down the evolutionary chain and end up supporting Millwall...

Heroes, Hammers & Henry - 1500 to present day. Via 1966...

Everyone knows that West Ham United won the World Cup for England in 1966.

Let’s be honest here. Everyone I know knows. Moore, Hurst and Peters brought the trophy home for the country. Moore, the Captain, Hurst, the hat-trick hero and Peters the utility man and other goal scorer. All West Ham United Players. Most long standing Hammers fans will point out that Bobby Moore puts the ball down for the free kick, looks up and finds Geoff Hurst for the 19th minute equalizing goal in the final – just like they did every week at Upton Park.

Across the street opposite from the Ann Boleyn pub stands the statue that remembers this moment. Two great stories for you about that famous game:

Sir Bobby Charlton also played in that game too in 1966. He remembers the excitement of winning the game and the fun celebrations at Wembley. It wasn’t until he sat on the team coach traveling back to the England hotel headquarters that he fully grasped what they had achieved. For the Country. The road back was lined with people cheering and waving flags. He cried.

Sir Geoff Hurst, scorer of the hat-trick and most famously the final strike to the words of ‘some of the people are on the pitch, they think it’s all over – it is now’, recalls that very goal. He knew time was running down and was dribbling the ball down the field away from the English goal. He figured if he could hit the ball as far away as possible he would waste time. These were the days of one ball per game and no added time etc. It would take a couple of minutes just to get the thing back. Hurst looks up at the clock and tries to hit it. The rest is history. Funny though, it never works for me…'got the time gov? - oh look, there's a clock up there...'
Upton Park is officially The Boleyn Ground. In the 1500’s a castle stood on the current location and Ann Boleyn resided there. I’m not a historian but I am told Henry IIIV had a lodge east of the castle and a 13 mile underground tunnel for a quick visit and a spot of tiffin. They should have kept it and run a bypass to Millwall. That’ll have given us an escape route after a nights work at the Den. Or maybe one going north for the Spurs fans to slink away in. In the late 1800’s the Thames Ironworks were playing football – the working mens team moved and became West Ham United, hence the name ‘Hammers’ and the design of the club badge. You will still hear the crowd chant ‘come on you irons’ every week. For tweeters & texters that’s COYI…

So, I’m 42 years old today. And assumed the Hammers would beat Stoke in the cup because it is my birthday. Alas, the boys did not read the script. Now every player out there is younger than me. I was holding on to Teddy Sheringham’s ability to still play for a while. Even Paulo Maldini kept me in it. Not any more. They are all boys. Even Manchester United had some old bald bloke scoring for them this weekend with a couple of look-a-likes and a Mexican whizz kid upfront. It must drive Fergie mad to keep the club in pull-ups nowadays. The youth and level of fitness did really surprise me at West Ham two weeks ago. The first team players are extremely lean and fit. I wasn’t expecting them to be so lean – Scott Parker, Steven Gerrard do not have an ounce of fat on them. Maybe the camera does add ten pounds. Maybe my perspective was skewed by having seen Jimmy Floyd Hasslebank at Stamford Bridge v Leeds once. He does have a fat arse (sorry Jimmy – you’re a great player). I bumped into Benny McCarthy at the training ground, who has been battling with his weight, but blimey, he looked great! I wanted to ask him where the club expected him to lose a few pounds from. Maybe his wallet.

So, the club has great history. The players are leaner than a pork loin and we lost to Stoke today. Doesn’t matter, West Ham won the World Cup for England. We all know it.

Final thought. Just spelled check the document in MS Word and Millwall came up incorrect. Thanks Bill Gates. You’re a genius.

Sunday morning madness at Anfield - Matty back in Indiana

Sunday morning after a home 3:0 win is always smashing. The Hammers jump to 17th after Hitz 'the Hammer' takes the net off with a third to bury Stoke City. Watching a frenetic Liverpool v Man Utd game and reminiscing that the Hammers shut the Liverpool fans up for 60 minutes last week. Jet lag is gone. Spring is on the way. Charlie Sheen is cra-za-zie. It’s not often life is so neatly packaged. Oh, and while I think of it, sorry Stevie (McManaman), West Ham v Stoke was never going to be a draw. ESPN need a pundit who does his homework or cares, or both.

1-0 Liverpool. No Van de Saar, on-side you goat. There isn’t a Fergie controlled set script today. You’re in front of the Kop.

I was wondering where to start after having a daily stream of soccer data while in London. So, here’s the plan. I’ll attempt to write more concisely and knock out a coaching blog mid-week and a more ‘reflective’ blog on a Sunday. Read either, or both while you dip an old fashioned doughnut in your mocha.

2:0 Liverpool. Oops – heading practice at the training ground for the Red Devils I think. So, based on the score so far West Ham should be good for a 5:1 win against Man Utd next week. Go place a bet – and tweet Steve McManaman too.

I should recognize and thank the incredibly diverse range of people reading this blog. Thanks. I really appreciate knowing there are people in Denmark, Taiwan, Turkey, Czech Republic, Mexico etc reading. It’s amazing. Feel free to comment below – are you Hammer fans, or coaches or simply interested in soccer? I hope the coaching blogs get you involved and you all add a little bit. After 7 days at West Ham United I really do have a lot of cracking stuff to share.

Mass brawl at Anfield. Nani needs a diaper / nappy. Nani is crying now – but he ran across the field to complain to the referee. Carragher gets a yellow for a nutty tackle. Hang on; the ref is dishing out cards to everyone now. Nani just walloped one of the first aid staff. He’s lost it. Must have tiger blood or something. Being carried off now…

Anyway, great to be home!

Hang on, another fight. Everyone is in the mix up. More cards – 2 yellows. They’ll be no one left by 90 minutes. It’s like Rollerball – the original with James Caan as ‘Jonathon E’. Last one standing wins the game and the ref has wisely blown the whistle before King Kenny calls a bench clearance.

OK, one ref story for entertainment value. This is true – trust me. Gryphons playing in a high school game two years back – the ball is cleared by a defender but in the wind it loops up over the heads of the back 4 and into the path of my Korean forward Jae. (Jae, by the way, celebrated his first ever ISI goal by getting a yellow card for using foul language). Jae missed but the lino had the flag up. Offside. I ask him – “so, if the ball is played by the defender to an attacker in an offside position its actually not offside, right?” – he didn’t answer, so I got on his back. Ref tells me we’ll talk at half time. By then I’d googled the F.A. website and had the ruling up on my Crackberry. Here’s the conversation that follows…(me v all three officials)

(me) “so, you can’t be offside from a ball played from an opponent”
(ref) “ah, well….”
(me) “because that’s the rule” (while holding the Crackberry up)
(ref) “what website is that then?”
(me) “the English Football Association”
(ref) “oh, that’s an English website then”
(me) “hang on, that’s the rule in England, which means that’s the rule in UEFA, Europe, which means that’s the rule for FIFA (while making a circle action with my arms) and the whole bloody planet”
(ref) “oh, this is Indiana”

I mean, seriously..?

Day 7 - West Ham Forever

Parting is such sweet sorrow - all good things come to an end.
This Sunday I'll have a new look for blog - check it out.

So...

A cold wet Monday morning was a sobering reminder that a 'trip of a lifetime' was over.  I decided to get up at the crack of dawn, grab one last 'Hammers' breakfast and hit the Barking Road. Personally I think I came with and achieved three objectives:

1) To learn as much as possible from some of England's outstanding youth academy coaches, especially my friend Paul Heffer.

2) To live the boyhood dream of sitting in the Upton Park dressing room, kiss the pitch, be part of the West Ham 'family'.

And finally, a far more personal aim. To go back to my family's roots and walk the walk.

So, let's begin...

The bronze statue on the corner of Green Street and the Barking Road. The stuff of legends - oh and the pub!

John Robert Self lived at 120 Wakefield Street. He was married to Violet Mary Cheeseman - my grandparents. It's a ten minute walk to Upton Park from Grandad's house, a '2 up 2' down terrace house he rented. The place had an outside toilet and a greenhouse on the spot the Anderson Shelter sat during the war. My dad spent nights down there with Nan during the Blitz. Grandad was a mechanic in the army and in life. I remember sitting in old buses in his garage as a young boy just before he retired. I can still smell the diesel oil. Nanny Self's brother, George, was a goalkeeper in the Army. I think some of my football skills came from him.

My Dad went to school across the road. His name is still carved in the brick wall outside. 

Dad would come home for lunch and Nan would cook him a plate of food. It was hard to run in PE with a bellyful of spotted dick.

Wakefield Street has lines of terraced housing. Every now and then there is a gap.

That was 250 yards away from Grandad's house. My Dad and Nan were probably down the Anderson Shelter at the time. Dad remembers playing in the rubble that lay on this spot above.

Under the flats...

You better make sure your business is claret and blue - oh, an 'off license' is the English term for a liquor store. We call them 'offys'

Round the back of the stadium...

Maybe that spot will be mine one day..?

And so.....

Well, there you have it. Here are the gang who completed the Diploma:

Kareem Sheta - Northern Virginia Soccer

James Meara - Arsenal Soccer Club of PA

JB Brooks - Newport Mesa Soccer Club

Eric Ingram - Arsenal Soccer Club of PA

Eric Kump - CJSO (Jackson, MS)

Harry Triana - SABA (NJ)

Silviu Telespan - SABA (NJ)

Merrill Winpenny - Sports Concepts, Mexico City

Mark Taylor - Arsenal Soccer Club of PA

Thanks to Paul Heffer and all the coaching staff at the West Ham Academy for such an outstanding window into one of the world's best coaching families.

Thanks to Ben Illingworth for making us feel part of West Ham United and giving us the unique perspective of life behind a Premier League Club.

Thanks to Mike Kelleher for making the whole trip possible.

Some of you coaches out there may want to make the trip one day. I challenge you to do so. Regardless of how many years you have done the job - just go and see for yourself. You never stop learning and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

If I hoped for one thing it would be this - football is like life. What you lose on the swings you gain on the roundabouts. It's as much about winning as it is about losing. Understanding that supporting a team like West Ham United is exactly that. It's a family - in for a penny in for a pound. And luckily, you get two teams for the price of one - the first team and the 'academy of football'.

We are forever West Ham.

Day 6 - Hammers v Liverpool. The 93 minute rollercoster...

Part One, and yes I need to apologize for the long blog.

Ahem.... in the old days at the cinema for an epic you got an overture, intermission (with warm ice cream sold by an old lady with a tray hanging around her neck) and lengthy closing credits. Let's pretend the opening overture is a scene of fit young coaches walking, in slightly slower than real life speed, out at Chadwell Heath to 'fanfare for the common man'.

Come on, just up your ADHD medicine for me and read...

Day 6 was going to be a big day. Day 5 and coaching at the Chadwell Heath training ground with Scott Parker et al across the field was a pretty bloody big day. Now, from a true supporters perspective the emphasis at today's match was a gut wrenching primordial battle for survival. The next meal for the family back in the cave was 3 points. A loss was not an option against Liverpool.

I shall digress. Again...

Growing up in the late 70's to early 80's was tough if you followed your family's east end roots and supported the Hammers. Liverpool were, at that time, all powerful in England and Europe. It got a little predictable. West Ham haven't won at Anfield for 48 years and we weren't going to do it in that decade.

Tottenham had bought half the Argentinian team, Arsenal were really boring but always playing in the FA Cup. So you can guess which teams every kid supported. We call them 'fair weather' supporters. England has lots now who follow Manchester United and Chelsea. I can live with folks in the States following Arsenal, they play intelligent football but seeing an Englishman play for them is like finding a golden ticket - and your name's not Charlie Bucket.

I say that for this reason. When you pay your 50 quid to watch a top premier league side play count the englishmen on the field. The premier league holds a glittering array of talent - that are mostly foreign. As an international force England is not World Class. Neither are some of the stars in that England squad. How many English players are being sought after by Italian and Spanish clubs? When Owen Hargreaves appeared on the international scene playing at Bayern most of us were Owen who..? Such is our lack of perspective of quality outside the UK.

I grew up with my friends like Steve and Ian rubbing in another defeat, league title or cup of some kind. West Ham spent a fair amount of time in the old second division, now the Championship. These were dark days for football too. Hooliganism at league and international level. Deaths at Belgium and Hillsborough. England teams were eventually booted out of European competitions and are still playing catch up.

So, in a nutshell, the only moments of joy for a Hammers fan were watching the likes of Brooking, Devonshire and nicking the FA Cup off an arrogant Arsenal side in 1980. And, when I see that 7 of the 23 players in the England squad for South Africa were products of the West Ham academy, I am both proud and sad. There are 20 teams in the Premier League, 92 professional clubs in the Football League overall. If each Premier league team offered 7 players for international duty the squad would be 140. The other teams are doing something wrong.

Back to 2011 and Upton Park...

If you stay in the hotel at Upton Park you have to clear your room at 7:00 am. Mmmmm, looked like my overnight stay with mum and dad was a cracking idea! Driving up to London with my parents is lovely. Firstly, I don't get to see them much and the east end is were they grew up, met and fell
in love. Note: at this point my mum is saying (as she reads this) "but I lived in Hainault". Come on mum - dad walked home from there once...

On driving in wearing extensive West Ham coaching apparel the freshly printed 'MS' told the security guard he should back off - love it.... 'come 'n 'ave a go if ya fink ya 'ard enuff...











Inside the stadium the coaching gang are in the Thames Ironworks Bar, which is the ticket only spot for posh people and player's family members. It's a great spot as the place has a pre-match buzz, Kieron Dyer is eating a spot of lunch and we contemplate buying a round of shots for the the match officials (as they nibble sandwiches in their stuffy FA ties).





1:00 pm and it all goes nutty. Key points and OMG moments as follows:

- Ben Illingworth walks in with tickets and bar passes for us. Time for a pitch side visit.

- We walk past the dressing rooms, down the tunnel and up onto the pitch. Upton Park is half full already and sold out today. Yes Spurs, we can fill the Olympic Stadium you toe-rags.

- US Partner Club coaches have a pitch side team photo and stand for a while as both teams warm up. Parker, Hitz, Noble, Tomkins, Green, Upson, Cole, Ba, Piquionne, Spector...... OK, for the scousers I'll mention Gerrard, Johnson, Cole (both former products of the Academy), Suarez, N'gog....

- the crowd are watching the players and looking at us. Who are they? Very bloody important people - that's who young man.





- the Hammers move their warm up to our side and in a truly 'is this happening to me' kind of moment, my heros are playing 'keep away' 6 feet in front of me. Blimey... I'm wearing West Ham gear, should I jump in? Nah, need to keep them positive, don't want to show them up...

- back down the tunnel past the bubble machines.

- all good things come to an end. Back up to the stand for the game.

INTERMISSION

OK. At this point I am conscious of the length of this blog. Not being sure of the etiquette with respect to blog length I shall continue. I mean, how long is a piece of string? Please read on and enjoy. Alternatively, make a cuppa or go and do a wee, poo or both, now - just come back. Get your mum to sell you some ice cream. You've got this far - no one climbs Everest, gets halfway, takes a snap of the view and then pops home for an early night because Bergerac is on BBC 2.

No, read on and risk death by blog.

Part 2

One: Watching West Ham is a true roller coaster ride. This season the tracks have been especially bumpy. Half a game of magic, half a game of insanity. Today, a good start is vital otherwise the atmosphere will become uneasy and thick with an anxiety that you can almost touch.






Two: Never leave you seat, or chat to your girlfriend on the mobile phone when at a game. There are no replays. It is constant, unpredictable and live. When the Hammers concede a goal there is a second of silence before the 5 thousand traveling fans roar. Then the home fans express their opinion verbally. It's horrible.

But, the Hammers scoring is something else. The place goes mental. Truly nutty. Players run over to the crowd and we all go mental. They return to the pitch for kick off and 'going mental' turns into a rousing version of "I'm forever blowing bubbles". It's like the troubled lives of 30,000 depressed descendants of east end working class squalor are lifted and we are fleetingly happy. Kind of 'the war is over' / won the lottery / just got a yes from the 'tasty girl across the classroom who is clearly way out of my league' sort of feeling.

After the game we hung out in the posh bar. Everyone is pretending to talk to their respective friends, but really it's like a coaching session with 'check your shoulder' as the topic. Oh, by the way. Watch Frank Lampard play and you'll see him looking over his shoulder all the time. You must have a picture of the field around you to play the game properly. It's essential so coach it.

So, who did we hang out with? Jonathon Spector, Julien Faubert, Wayne Bridges, James Tomkins, Robert Green, Demba Ba, Thomas 'the hammer' Hitz, Anton Ferdinand, the man from that ITV show whose name I can't remember and Ian Wright, who nipped in for the loo.

The refs came back too. The pre-match shots now seemed like a good idea. Might have helped them wake up a little in the first half.


Jonathon Spector was top class. He came over and met the guys, especially as fellow countrymen were in the house. A pleasure to meet and talk to. He was fine with us taking pics - I shook his hand, thanked him for doing such a good job at the club and told him how his presence at West Ham helps raise the profile of the club back home. I'm not an 'autograph' kind of guy. Just wanted to say thank you to a player who has settled and made a difference this season.

Dinner. Soup, fish in a light sauce with dill, roast pork, rosemary / sage roast potatoes (Mark ate 20 - but he is from Huddersfield), crackling - bloody crackling and carrot cake. The chef even sent out 2 sticky toffee puddings for us. Top drawer grub. Lovely people.

And so our last day at the 'Academy of Football' drew to a close.

A cuppa with my mum and dad.
A priceless 'behind the scenes' perspective of match day at Upton Park.
Another classic Scott Parker performance.
3 precious points that may save the season
A chat with my new mate Jonathon Spector.
Roast pots, gravy and pork crackling.

What a bloody great day.

Day 7 - the final day?
One final thing to do. Walk from John and Violet Self's house on Wakefield Street to the ground, which I'll share with you.
Some people to thank.
Home to Indiana to my beautiful triplets, Henry, Hannah, Ella. And, Jilly :)