Mommy, Can I Go Out and Sing Tonight?

Every year, I forget about Mother's Day until the week before. To be honest, I don't think I ever really knew when it was. I've always lumped it together with those other "holidays," such as Veteran's Day and President's Day etc. You know, days that are only really significant if everyone gets a day off work. Not to say that I don't love my Mother. Of course I do. But this past year was a special Mother's Day. It was unlike any previous one because, well, I remember it.

Approximately five months prior to that day, I had started a band with three of my best friends. After pouring many hours into the band in those first few months, we were six songs deep and ready to start playing shows. In April, my friend Rich was doing a show in DC and wanted to know if we would like to play. I asked him who else was playing. He said "Blacklisted," and the conversation ended. Of course we wanted to fucking play.

The show was scheduled for May 13th, which was a little over a month away. Excellent. I was fairly positive there wasn't shit going on that day.

It's important to stress that 2006-2007 was a serious period of my life. I was fresh out of college, which can be, from what I've heard, the most confusing time for some young people. The job market was not as accommodating as I had hoped, and in return I was jobless for several months, slowly eating my pockets thin. In addition, the girl that I had previously loved was long gone out of my world, and my love life was non-existent. It was a new stage of limbo that I was not quite ready to deal with. All I had was this band and my friends. And Carlos Tevez.

I'm no different than all of you here in the fact that my football club has a certain hold on my heart that is tough to break, especially when we don't want that hold broken. Having followed West Ham for several years now, last season's campaign was by far the one experience I've had watching a sports team where I felt I was one with the club. The Championship years were a bit of a downer due to so many of our beloved faces leaving the squad (Di Canio, J. Cole etc.), and the struggle to get back into the top flight was apparent. And as if getting back to the Premiership in 2005 wasn't enough emotion for club supporters, the Gods had to break our hearts in the FA Cup final by sending the Angel of Death (Gerrard) down to Sodom & Gomorrah (Cardiff) to slay the wrong-doers (Scaloni). How could a faithful Hammer go back to watching his club after such heartbreak? I don't know, but we all did.

The optimism at the start of the 06-07 season was a little scary. We had taken Liverpool the distance in May, in a game that we felt we should have won. And that was our first year back in the top flight. Dare I say that some of our supporters became a little cocky about the whole Cup run? Well it's the truth. And that cockiness turned to straight unruly arrogance on August 31st, when it was announced that we had signed Carlos Tevez and Javier Mascherano from Brazilian club Corinthians.

Two of the brightest young prospects in the world coming to Upton Park. The FA Cup is ours! Fuck that, the UEFA Cup as well! Hell, we could win the league!..............Or we could end up in a relegation battle until the last day of the season, that would coincidentally fall on Mother's Day. I'll let you guys guess which of these outcomes happened.

By May 19th, I was convinced that West Ham's luck had run it's course. Six wins in eight games was a phenomenal accomplishment, but let's be honest, we're not beating the League leaders at Old Trafford. It looked pretty likely that Sheffield United would be the ones to stay up, having to only beat Wigan at Brambell Lane. All the signs were pointing to the Irons joining Charlton and Watford in the Fizzy-Pop.

I sat down at 10 a.m. to watch our last match in the Premiership on FSC. I watch our guys come out of the locker room in those shitty Reebok away kits that had abdominal muscles printed on them. As they walked out, I remembered the line from one of the kids in the movie Little Giants as they were presented with their new uniforms: "Death shrouds."

Now, most of us know what it's like for our teams to lose big games. I won't act like we Hammers are the most deprived football supporters in the world. I'm sure you Rossoneri fans had your summer's ruined after the 05 CL, just as you Bayern supporters probably cried for weeks after Ole Gunnar spoiled your party in 99. The Cup final was bad for us, but to submit to another relegation would be a new low, especially after such high expectations for the season.

It is a sad realization to know that your life had been simplified to a game played by some men across the Atlantic, who don't even know you exist. I'm far from Nick Hornby. I am no fanatic. I'm a guy who can step back and look at things for what their worth. Every time I've been enthralled in a West Ham game, I've been able to stop and ask myself, "Why do I care this much?" However, the answer has never been easy to find. And as I watched James Collins and Anton Ferdinand kill themselves to connect with every single ball that came into the box that day, I thought to myself "maybe I care because they care." And as they showed the visiting supporters holding radios to their ears to hear the ongoings in Sheffield, I saw that they too cared as much as I did. Who cares why we care? Sometimes in life, it's the trivial things that we cling onto when there's nothing else to grab. It's not phony, and it's not insincere. It's real, and often it keeps us from killing ourselves.

At around 10:43, my best friend Mike called me to arrange carpooling plans for our show, which was set for 3:00. I reluctantly answered as the first half was winding down. He was well aware of my Hammer fever and swore to make it quick:

Mike: "Yo, what time should I be at your house?"

Me: "Umm, whenever...like 1:00...or someth..."

Mike: "Ok, so I'll jus..."

(Carlos slips the go-ahead goal passed Van der Sar)

Me: "FUUUUUUUUCK YEESSSSSSSS! TEVEZ YOU BEAUTIFUL FUCKIN' BEAUTY!!!!!"

Mike: "Haha, what? Tevez scored, I assume?"

Me: "YESSSSSSSSS!...I'LL CALL YOU BACK!"

The next hour was as stressed as I have ever felt watching a television set. Man United were on constant attack. Robert Green was brilliant, as were the back four of Neill, Ferdinand, Collins and Spector. I recall a specific moment in injury time, where a ball fell to Paul Scholes about 30 yards out, and visions of his miracle volley earlier that year at Villa Park ran through my head. As his rocket of a right leg sent the ball into our back line, ricocheting back towards their goal, I said "Holy shit, they're gonna do it." I always expected things to go awry somewhere, whether it was Ronaldo embarrassing us in the second half or Dave Whelan's men sending us down at Brambell Lane. And while the latter was happening, the former was not. We weren't being embarrassed. In fact, we were somewhat embarrassing the Champs on their trophy day. But as the whistle blew, and I saw Yossi throw his hands into the air in ecstasy, it was clear that this was our day.

The guts that those fourteen men showed on that day is a memory I will treasure. People will speculate for years about whether or not the Hammers should have been able to stay up due to the shady MSI dealings. I hope one day football fans can take a step back and truly behold what an achievement this relegation escape was. We were "done and dusted," as they say. Even I thought so. It took a well defended Paul Scholes strike to finally change my mind.

After the match, I gave my Mother her gift (don't recall what it was) and told her that I loved her. My band met at my house, and we all left for the District.

We played to about twenty-five people in a basement. It ruled. That whole day ruled.

I have since dug my way out of the rut I was in. I have found a new job, and even new love interests that are not inanimate. I still watch every West Ham United game that does not fall on a weekday (new job, remember). I watch every week because I love football, and I love the club. I don't need them like I once did. But I'm confident that if and when I do need them, they will be there for me. That's why I love them.


-Matt R. a.k.a. One Man Jam