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...
West Ham started October 2004 with that rarest of sights: a settled matchday squad. After a start to the season when Alan Pardew seemed to be playing Guess Who? to pick his starting eleven, at last we had some continuity. The only change for the home game with Wolverhampton Wanderers was an enforced one. Teddy Sheringham’s ageing limbs couldn’t withstand two 90 minutes in a week, so Bobby Zamora took his place in the team whilst Old Ted sat on the bench with a blanket, a Bovril, and a copy of the Radio Times.
Frankly, it was hard to see who got the better end of the deal after another bruising first-half encounter. Six weeks into the new campaign and it was clear that the second tier had changed a lot since our last stint under Billy Bonds. Back then, we’d blown teams away with slick, passing football. But there was no room for such luxury in the Championship. I’d noticed a clear pattern to our fixtures. The referee blew the whistle and then the game descended into 90 shapeless minutes of scrapping, kicking, and running – with occasional moments of association football in-between.
Goodness knows what Ian Bishop would have made of all this.
The chaos made for absorbing – and exhausting – viewing. By the time it was over, you were relieved, but not entirely sure if you’d actually enjoyed yourself. I remember feeling the same after watching Saving Private Ryan.
The clash with Wolves was no exception. Neither side gave up an inch of territory. Chances were few and far between. When Zamora did find a momentary sight of an unguarded goal, he was flagged for offside. At half-time Pardew brought on substitute Steve Lomas for a welcome return to league duty. It seemed like a wise move. This was the perfect game for the Northern Irishman who had spent his entire career treading the fine line between football and fisticuffs. But whilst Lomas wasted no time in getting stuck in, his introduction had no impact on the quality of the game. Instead, it was left to the old master. With an hour gone, the Gaffer decided it was Teddy Time. If anyone could rescue this Saturday afternoon, it would surely be Sheringham.
And the genial journeyman didn’t disappoint. Picking up the ball 25 yards from goal, he skipped over a desperate lunge from Joleon Lescott and drilled a shot into the corner. Once again, a single moment of quality had been enough to earn us all three points. There wasn’t much to be excited about.
Sadly, that was the extent of the frivolity for another week. Our first trip to Loftus Road in nearly a decade proved fruitless. A first-half strike from Matthew Rose earned the points for Ian Holloway’s rapidly-improving Rangers, who were now one point off top spot. With no Etherington and Sheringham through injury, we were desperately short of creativity.
Both men would play a starring role in our home game against Stoke, a game I always looked out for on the fixture list. In truth, I’d never forgiven the Potters for an incident on the opening game of the season in 1989. It was the first day of the Lou Macari era. The start of what was sure to be a procession to the Second Division title. My eleven-year-old self had spent all summer waiting for the Hammers to return to action. I’d read every word on Ceefax. Consumed every page of Hammers News. And even convinced my Mum to fork out for a new home shirt.
Within 90 minutes all that excitement had evaporated. A tame draw that barely merited the 80-word match report on Teletext. And to make things worse my hero Frank McAvennie suffered a broken leg that would sideline him for most of the campaign. From that moment, I’d taken a scared oath to wish nothing but ill fortune upon Stoke City.
Unfortunately, our defence didn’t agree. In the early stages of a game that we simply needed to win, Tomáš Řepka had one of those moments when he looked like his brain had been surgically replaced with a goldfish. Twice he gave terrible possession to Stoke’s forwards – and twice we were lucky to stay level. Thankfully, we weren’t quite so generous down the other end. A smart turn and finish from Marlon Harewood put us ahead.
It was a sign of our season to date that even though we were playing a team that hadn’t won in six, with about as much confidence as a snail crossing the M11, it was hard to ever feel completely confident of victory. This was the first anniversary of Alan Pardew’s employment as West Ham manager. A spell that had, so far, been characterised by occasional moments of quality, consistent inconsistency, and a worrying tendency to hover our finger over the self-destruct button.
But the main difference between this season and last was that we had the class of Sheringham to call upon in times of need. Harewood fizzed a ball across the six-yard box and the Irons’ elder statesman produced an impudent backheel to wrong foot the Stoke ‘keeper.
Slowly but surely, Teddy was erasing all memories of him in Spurs shirt. His goals had kept us in touch with a congested top four. If we were to maintain any realistic promotion push, his experience – and ability – in pressure situations was going to be absolutely vital.
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.
