Sid Lambert takes us back 20 years to the 2004/05 season, when Alan Pardew’s Hammers secured a rollercoaster return to the Premier League...
‘Beware the Ides of March’ wrote William Shakespeare in his play Julius Caesar. It was, of course, a warning to the imminent demise of Rome’s supreme leader. And some 2,000 years later it could equally be applied to West Ham United’s promotion ambitions.
I’ve long held a suspicion that the Bard was not merely the finest wordsmith these shores have ever produced, but a man who foresaw the creation of this Football Club. His thirst for tragedy, despair and comedy would have been routinely quenched on Saturday afternoons between August and May in east London.
The latest chapter in our seemingly endless odyssey for Premier League football was a trip to Reading in early March. After two consecutive defeats another loss was unthinkable. We were outside the Play-Off places and Alan Pardew, like Caesar, was hanging onto power by a thread. When the Emperor needed to sway public opinion, he would famously make grandiose gestures like announcing a calendar of gladiatorial games in the Coliseum to distract from his troubles.
Similarly, Pardew had his own means of coping with the intense scrutiny of the West Ham hotseat. If in doubt, dive into the transfer market. After all, what better way to bring light amidst the darkness than with a shiny new signing?
Unless that shiny new signing is Shaun Newton.
The right-sided utility player arrived from Wolves for £125,000 and was greeted with a collective shrug of the shoulders from the Irons faithful. That was no sleight on his abilities. He’d had a perfectly serviceable career in the lower reaches of the Premier League, and had also played his part in achieving promotion with Charlton.
But when your fanbase is rebelling and in desperate need of a saviour, signing a fella who can put in a decent shift at right-back isn’t going to silence the mob. Then again, Pards seemed to revel in these non-descript signings. This season alone, he’d brought in Mauricio Taricco, Darren Powell, Malky Mackay, Callum Davenport – a rotating cast of characters who’d had no discernible impact on our season.
Newton was immediately included for the trip to Reading where injuries and suspensions meant that Hayden Mullins was shunted into duty as an emergency centre-back. It wasn’t a good afternoon for him or the Hammers. Twice he was out-jumped by Royals’ striker Dave Kitson and we found ourselves 2-0 down at the interval. When Kitson completed his hat-trick after the break, it completed another miserable afternoon for Pardew. The home fans hadn’t forgiven him for leaving the Madejski in search of fame and fortune at Upton Park. And to be honest, plenty of the away support weren’t too happy about it either. Teddy Sheringham’s late consolation did little to quell the anger in the travelling ranks.
Welcome to West Ham, Shaun Newton.
With his job now more precarious than that of Henry VIII’s marriage counsellor, Pards must have been delighted to see Crewe arrive at the Boleyn. The Railwaymen were the smallest club in Championship, scraping their heads above the relegation zone thanks in part to the efforts of a teenage Dean Ashton. Nonetheless, their budget was a fraction of ours and there was no way anything other than a win would be tolerated. Despite playing like our shoelaces were tied together, the dog-eat-dog nature of the Championship meant that the Play-Off teams had been unable to create a distance from the chasing pack. Incredibly, three points against Crewe would see us leapfrog Reading into the last spot.
I’ve seen some nights under the lights at Upton Park. There was the night Stuart Slater ran Everton ragged in a famous FA Cup win in 1991. The incredible 4-3 win over Spurs during our Great Escape in 1997. If I close my eyes and cup my ears to the breeze, sometimes I can still hear the roar of the crowd from nights like that.
And sometimes I can hear “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING PARDEW! YOU’RE USELESS! GET OUT OF THIS CLUB, YOU MUPPET!” from the chap seated two rows behind me in the Bobby Moore stand as West Ham conceded a last-minute equaliser to Crewe Alexandra in the spring of 2005.
In fairness, the majority of the 25,000 in attendance agreed. After Teddy Sheringham had finally settled the nerves with a superb set-piece in the 76th minute, West Ham had retreated to the edge of our penalty area like we were defending a one-goal lead against Arrigo Sacchi’s fabled Milan side in the San Siro. Inevitably, after one panicked clearance too many, the visitors swung in a cross and headed an equaliser in injury time. The pocketful of away supporters rightly celebrated a worthy point, whilst the rest of us trudged off towards the Tube wishing we’d stayed at home to watch EastEnders.
The conversation on the way home was all about who our new manager would be. After all, surely there was no way Pardew could go on? Our form since the turn of the year was five wins, three draws, six defeats. We were now closer to the relegation zone than the automatic promotion spots.
The team changed every week, but the results didn’t. We were a mess. A total mess. Even if, by some form of divine intervention, we qualified for the Play-Offs there seemed no hope of progression.
Our promotion dreams were dead and buried.
Sid has a new book out: ‘Highs, Lows and Di Canios: The Fans’ Guide to West Ham United in the 90s’. Visit www.thewesthamway.com, or head into the official West Ham store for a rollercoaster ride through one of the most turbulent decades in Claret & Blue history.
*The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of West Ham United.
