Southend
is fifty-five minutes on the train from Liverpool Street station, three or more
hours from Cheltenham. What for me last weekend was an afternoon jaunt
out of London accompanying a travelling band of Cheltenham Town away fans - two
of them - was for the other seventy-five who went to watch their team against Southend United a whole day on the road to (and back from) Roots Hall, where
Southend, managed by permatan Phil Brown, play their football.
Tickets
for the game cost £21, and throw in an extra £5 for a Pukka Pie as hot as
Hades, as well as a cup of lukewarm greased tea even five sugars could not
improve (the other choices being a bottle of Fanta, or a cup of coffee,
the granules made specially from Southend estuary silt), not to mention £XX for
petrol, and it wasn’t a cheap day out for Town fans travelling from Cheltenham
either.
Moreover,
although Town put in a spirited performance, Saturday, they lack style, grace
and composure, all composites of the beautiful game, whereas Southend, at least
in central midfielder Michael Timlin, a product of Fulham’s youth academy, have
a little class.
The
depth of feeling for football in the UK is a source of mild astonishment
to football fans beyond these shores, especially given the dim view of the
standard of the lower leagues wrongly, but often rightly taken into
account.
And
yet although the Cheltenham Town away support isn’t exactly an army, it too
seems unfair to brand them barmy in what they do, and why they do it.
While
it may seem strange to give up a whole day every week for half of the year, for
the best part of a lifetime to actively be a Cheltenham Town away fan,
or an away fan of any other of the teams doggedly battling through the very
constant lows of life in Sky Bet Division Two, having endured 90 minutes of
fairly uninspiring football against Southend, Town, a goal down, and seemingly
sliding toward a seventh defeat of the season, won a penalty in extra time which Matt Richards scored to earn a draw.
And then it dawned on me.
From
kick off it became clear that of the seventy-five Cheltenham fans at Southend,
several knew each other, presumably having shared the fairly routine drudgery
of watching their side together for a number of seasons, and it was easy to
detect the kind of camaraderie any of us in our daily lives would seek out, as
well as no shortage of gallows humour. This could of course be true of
away fans of bigger teams.
Then,
at the final whistle, shortly after Richards’ equalising spot-kick, the
players, almost to a man, came right over to show their appreciation for the
travelling support, hands above their heads in applause, one or two shaking
hands with the fans and exchanging thanks. And being one of just
seventy-five, it was easy to see how - at the same time as appreciating the
mutual respect between the players and their supporters - as an away Town fan, one
could also be made to feel rather special.
There
is quite a powerful identity in the guise of the lower league away fan.
Not only do you outwardly reflect a certain individuality of spirit, being one
of very few whose allegiance lies somewhere other than Old Trafford Megastore,
or the Chelsea FC hotel, as well as an appearance of integrity, being true to
one’s hometown or roots, both, too, are easily internalised and readily
understood. This adds reassurance, key to a strong identity.
Furthermore,
there are few things in life one can describe oneself as that have
individualistic and collective components to a single identity, except
of course belonging to a particular family. And being a definitive part
of a particular family, it seems, is how the lower league away fan feels, and
with the feelings of belonging and identity that a particular family engenders,
there also comes a pride that can be immensely satisfying.
The
Town away fans at Southend must feel every Saturday afternoon, whether at Roots
Hall, or the Globe Arena in Morecambe Bay, someone in their own right, someone
part of something bigger than themselves, and yet that that something is very much
of their own, yet again shared with the rest of the away family who follow
Cheltenham through not very thick and really quite thin up and down the
country.
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