West Ham United

The FA Cup 2006

 

All the way from eating Delia’s pie to seeing Anton cry, From Pard’s snake hips to Reina’s fingertips. The FA Cup run was the ultimate bodice ripper. We were left like a deflowered heroine ravished by a forceful muscular shirtless cad (called Colin) in a pique of unrestrained romantic passion……..err it was like that wasn’t it…

The final was everything we anticipated and more. We were up and down like Gillian Taylforth’s head in a lay-by. Own goal from Carragher and then minutes later Deano scores the slowest ever FA Cup goal, trickling the ball across the line in super super slo-slo-scaloni-slo-mo effect.

Agonising, it was like watching Otis go to bar, it took an absolute age, children grew beards, and Supergrass looked like this.

But it went in and put us 2 NIL UP IN THE FAC CUP FINAL… 2 NIL,Unbelievable and players and fans alike were completely energised. I high fived Crouch, we were that high, on top of the world Jack.

But then Cisse and Gerrard took us Ben Volpeliere-Pierrot style , straight back down to earth , the world is now red and we’ve surely shot our bolt ….. But extraordinarily…. The Konch swings his left boot …and as you watched the ball in flight everything stood still, esp. Reina, the collective…….under the breath….’too deep Konch…hold on its going in….. It’s only going fucking in……. IT’S FUCKING IN!!!!

And the noise literally bansheed round the ground.

We’re now gonna win the fucking FA CUP! …From that Jan morning with all the trains to Norwich fucked, freezing our nuts off, meeting Stu and Supergrass in Brentwood, my boiler just broken down, we had somehow made it to the brink of ultimate FA cup glory and I now have quite probably one of the top five boiler’s in the whole of Essex…who’d have thought it eh …?

That 3rd round fixture was one of the many turning points, a key moment of the season. We arrived on the back of one draw and 4 defeats and the awesome early season feel good factor was on the wane. Premiership survival was still a priority, but in his team selection, Pard’s attacked the competition with intent from the start.

Delia received all the stick from the fans as her, cooking sherry induced, ‘Lets be ‘avin you’ was sung back to her but to her credit she yet again came good with the pies, Herts said the roasted vegetable was overrated, he could only manage two but the Thai chicken was a absolute delight apparently. With Herts it’s a more Michelin tyres than stars, but he gave it two anyway. The perfect start to a cup run. Me and Toots also crashed Wansted’s hospitality suite and met Keith Robson and his Doppelganger Alan Taylor who was in fact Keith Robson or was it Alan Taylor. Drunk.

The game was a stroll for us. Cash’ netted his first of the season after about ten minutes and Bobby, who was our man of the match, scored the second. With hindsight the most significant thing about the game was not only the result but the fact that Dean Ashton had been rested by Worthington. An appearance against us and it all could have panned out so differently. Sliding doors and all that. But a few days later and Deano, body stocking an’ all, was all ours for a cool 7.25mil.

Blackburn was up next and this was the only home tie of the cup run, not the greatest attendance and the overall quality of the game was pretty poor. We managed to concede after 26 secs, no mean feat…Bentley tapping home from about a yard. But as became a trademark of the season we came back after handing the opposition early goals to then go on to win the game.

Zamora was the man again as his strike coupled with Teddy’s chipped pen, an OG and Matty strike gave us a 4-2 victory and since the Norwich game it was now 4 straight victories and the season was back on track.

So where to next…the Reebok. Worst draw since Rolf did the Queen. Gutted. Already beaten us in the league and they were in their hottest form of the season. Well when I say hot, as hot as something from Bolton can be. Bolton / Hot doesn’t really go does it, bit like Mickey Carroll playing the next lord D’Arcy. Let’s just settle for Bolton were winning games and no one wanted to play them.

I was with Toots and Supergrass as we headed up for this one. Along with 6 thousand others and Deano got a glimpse of what we the fans were all about. We had packed our end and the players responded, the pitch was dire and the game a real scrap but we came away with a massive nil – nil. It was back to Upton Park and we sniffed a win.

We kinda guessed it was gonna be our day as, even with Supergrass in tow, we pulled some real Willies fillies on the M6. Their beavers needed trimming mind, a real indication we had gone past the Watford gap. We settled in the perfect drinking hole with heating, inside toilet, snail races and everything, It was game on. Anton and Gabbidon were the star performers on the day and cup run was still alive.

So Northwick Park Allardyce and his pickled onion breath,

Sam getting a trim for the big day….

He pitches up at Upton Park full of talk of destiny and going all the way and yep he went all the way….. With his sorry band of about 36 fans back up north for theirs bread n dripping. It was a night that was so cold my testes decided to pop back from where there once dropped and only returned once the clocks went back. It was a proper fight, a freak own goal from the Bolton keeper was cancelled out by Davies only for Marlon to bag the winner in great style.

The Cup final was now a real possibility and the draw away to Man City, although being another long road trip, kept us away from the big boys. It was going to be another massive game. The Monday night kick off put paid to me traveling to the game, but again five thousand fans were there, another indication to the players what we are all about.

This was our most complete performance of the run. Ashton was every bit the new Shearer and Reo Coker was inspirational. Reo Coker went straight through Musampa and Barton like lasagne through a Yid and Ashton was simply unplayable. And bar the usual final five minutes of kamikaze flappy flap defending, Collins and Gabby flapping about like Steven Hawkings in a swimming pool, we eased through. We had made it to a semi final……our first in 15 years. These were all good times. We drank champagne in the sports café and bubbles went up my nose.

Optimism was now rising quicker than a tide in Morecombe. Sensible mature people and Hack were now saying we could win the FA Cup…… 1- nil vs. Liverpool in the final, nah I couldn’t believe it yet, it was like George Michael saying to me ‘no honestly Monk, I’m fine to drive home, I’ve only had a couple’

But again the draw kept us from Liverpool or Chelsea…M’boro at Villa Park… it was the Michelle Dewsbury of a draw…imminently do able. Things were at fever pitch, tickets were rocking horse shit and everyone was excitedly making plans for a massive weekend. This season had now taken on a real historic feel to it.

On the day, victory was ours. It was yet another miraculous performance from the players and yet another non stop effort from the fans. The moment Marlon ripped his shot into the back of the net with lethal intent, which is my moment of the season, it was dream land.

It was an inspired goal from a player who epitomised our season. The pre match goings on in the Sacred Heart, mini Anton, the big heads, Pards dancing, the brewery tap when we got home, it was all dreamland. It was like waking up and being told that Star city is actually a real city and that I was the newly crowned mayor.

the best photo from that day

The semi final was a blast, but as the next few days crept by, as the hangover was eventually evicted from my kidneys. The realisation of what lay ahead started to materialise.

FA Cup Finalists 2006.

Everyone I met with any connection with West Ham was engulfed in the euphoria, it was a feel good factor, everyone had eaten there ready brek and had the orange glow around them. We were all Rusty in the nightclub on his European tour. West ham was a happy place.

As has been the case for the past two seasons, the get a ticket, get a room, get transport to Cardiff hullabaloo began. People desperately scouring, searching, begging for tickets for them selves for friends and for Jase’s dad. Grown men getting to Tracy Temple stakes of desperation. As Cup final week was upon us, work was irrelevant, as Ralph put, there were only 6 more sleeps to go. Each day the press coverage became bigger and better, more column inches than Marlon, more exposure than Reo Coker public speaking.

The suits were being fitted, the sun was shining, my HE boiler had cut my gas bill by a quarter. There was one more sleep to go……

And then it was here, and after Kitty Flynn’s , Nigel Reo Congaing, going fucking mental, seeing just about everyone I knew who follows West Ham to Shane Warne’s first welcome delivery, abide with me, the national anthems, going to the wrong seat 4 times , the players jigging with us pre match, the bubbles and the bubbles and the bubbles. We were 3mins from victory…….

Cunt.

But that wasn’t it as Extra time came, we rallied so well. For all the talk of this great back room team and the fitness of the players…this was vindication, it was so visible, Scaloni making lung bursting runs with only a minute left on the clock, Yossi dictating play and Reo Coker still making runs, And then we had our moment, everyone has had their say about it and we’ve all seen it but we were that close…. an inch..…lorraine kellys erect nipple away……….and for the rebound to fall to Marlon was so so unfair. He didn’t deserve that, we didn’t deserve that. Ron and John must have been ambushed by Shankly and Emlyn Hughes.

But not to be and that pretty much was that. Afterwards everyone will have their story of bonding with liverpool fans or partying on regardless or like me just going home dejected and knackered to seek solace in their boiler.

Jan 9th to May 13th. We skipped the light fandango and turned cartwheels across the floor, I was feeling kinda sea sick but the crowd called out for more….

When Nige goes up to lift the UEFA Cup we’ll be there, we’ll be there…sing to fade……