one o in huntingdon wrote: ↑Mon Apr 29, 2019 11:47 am
Here you are, not a bad piece
What is the point of supporting a football club? It is a question many supporters ask themselves at this time of year, when another season comes to an end and the vast majority of them have failed to live up to expectations.
Why do we put ourselves through it? Why do we invest so much time and energy in something which, for the most part, only leads to disappointment and suffering?
This is certainly true of my relationship with Leyton Orient, that infuriating, exasperating little club in East London that both began my love affair with football and has tested my affection for it almost constantly ever since.
Orient are not a successful team. They tend to lose more than they win, they have a proven track record in failure.
Since I went to my first game in 1982, Orient have been relegated five times, lost in three play-off finals and have never progressed beyond the Fifth Round of the FA Cup. They have most certainly never played in Europe.
I’m not alone; this is in no way unique. This is the reality for the vast majority of supporters up and down the country who did not cherry pick a club to support on the basis of how likely they were to win trophies.
Even those that did find they made their choice on shifting sands. The club that is dominant in your formative football years, is highly unlikely to remain so by the time you reach your 30s.
Supporting a football team is about suffering far more than it is about celebrating, whether it is a near miss at the end of an exciting campaign in league or cup, or being put out of your misery at the end of a torturously bad one. Football hurts, and if it is on a sliding scale as to how much and how often, Orient are on the more extreme end of the pain.
Yet, there is a reason we hang in there and it is for moments like this, that joyous, incredible high you feel when they do not fail. The euphoria that comes in a moment of triumph, when you share a special glorious time with your fellow supporters, laughing, singing, chanting and cheering and, for a brief moment, forget all your other troubles in the world. And that is what happened to Orient this weekend.
The fact the O’s were promoted from the Vanarama National League on Saturday may have passed you by, but they did with a drab goalless draw over Braintree Town and it was brilliant.
A day I shall remember for the rest of my life, just as do that day in 1989 when they beat Wrexham to win promotion from the fourth tier, just as I do that sensational day in 2006, when they won 3-2 away at Oxford United to gain promotion back to the third tier after another long stay in the basement division.
If anything, this promotion - their first as champions since they were promoted from the old Third Division in 1970 - is the best of the lot because, two years ago, we did not even know if there would still be a club to support.
I am loath to give the man responsible for a collapse that took us from the brink of promotion to the Championship to relegation from the Football League for the first time - a new low - just three years later a mention, but in every good story there has to be a villain so, to Francesco Beelzebub, the Italian businessman who almost broke our spirit, as well as our club, this promotion is the final nail in the coffin of your reputation. You deserve your place in the ever expanding rogues gallery of disastrous, spiteful owners who should never have been allowed anywhere near running a football club. This is the end for you, you are forgotten.
This is to Nigel Travis, the lifelong fan and Kent Teague, the businessman from Texas who agreed to help him buy a club that was on the brink of going out of business two years ago. You saved Leyton Orient, but more than that, you have nurtured it, lovingly and caringly, back to health. Thank you.
This is to Justin Edinburgh, the former Tottenham player who, as manager, has guided the team to only the third promotion in my lifetime. Thank you.
This is to the players, superbly led by captain Jobi McAnuff, who at the age of 36, returned to Orient last season because he felt he had failed in his first spell at the club. You, along with the rest of the squad, have been amazing. You never gave up and that is all any supporter really asks. Thank you.
This is to my uncle Simon. You saw them go up again, when you were so ill, you didn’t even know if you would see the end of the season. I love you and keep fighting.
And this is to every fan. There is and always will be only one Orient. So be proud, be happy and enjoy it. Up the O’s.
