Once upon a time, there was a beautiful castle in London’s Green Street. At least twice a month, hordes of creatures in claret and blue would come to the aforementioned fortress to worship – and sometimes curse – a round object that was kicked from one side of the castle’s gazebo to the other. Until a greedy fairy decided that… Well, enough of Karren Brady already. Since West Ham United has become Stratford City, there is no need to visit this particular part of East London anymore. Gone are the halcyon days of the Boleyn Ground, AKA Home of the Hammers, West Ham’s legendary home turf. And with the Irons, so much folklore has left this part of England’s Capital. Every West Ham fan older than eight remembers those good old Saturdays, when Upton Park tube station would spit out thousands and thousands of football fans, eager to watch the likes of Bobby Moore, Trevor Brooking, Julian Dicks, Paolo di Canio, Dimitri Payet, Mark Noble and, er, Marco Boogers. Before kick-off – on and sometimes off the field, that is – they would take a sticky seat at Ken’s Café, where chips seemed to be fried in motor oil and whose coffee was as grey as its tea, or build a brick wall of burgers in one’s stomach, courtesy of the aptly titled Belly Busters. The pubs to drown the afternoon’s expectations in were Queen’s, near the fruit and veggies market which, in 2012, supplied kilos of ammunition for passing Millwall fans, and the monumental Boleyn, on the corner with Barking Road, where the barmaids were blessed with a voice so sharp it could cut, well, iron. For lovers of [East End’s version of] haute cuisine there were Natan’s jellied eels, a self-proclaimed delicatesse for which people would queue up, believe it or not. That’s all gone now, as the pulsating claret & blue heart has been ripped out of this neighbourhood. What’s left for West Ham fans, are dreams of the good old days. Dreams that, as we all know, eventually fade and die. This is to all those who have been fortunate enough to blow bubbles in the streets of Upton Park. And to the unfortunate ones who will never be able to. This is to proper – ‘pwopa’ as they used to say there – English football.
