London Calling - The Magic of Wembley

15 April 2013 16:12

Ah Wembley. It brings out all manner of emotions. As I sat in my seat last week, in the Crewe end of the Jonhstones Paint Trophy final, my Dutch wife to the one side of me, and a Geordie friend to the other, both of whom proceeded to attempt to outdo the P.A. announcer in terms of volume, interspersing the play with sporadic protestations at decisions, reprimands/encouragement regarding missed chances, and a creditable selection of "ooh!"s and "ahh!"s when appropriate, (aided and abetted by my good self I should add), it dawned on me quite what an excellent example this could be for the bringing together of 3 very different backgrounds, to one common purpose, to support a team in victory/defeat, and enjoy the experience of Wembley and the spirit of the game. And while it is fair to say I might have been more invested in the result of the game somewhat more than my companions, due to having been brought up in Crewe, it is just as accurate to attest that, in terms of enjoying the experience, we were all singing from the same hymn sheet. Even the Southend fans, though obviously disconsolate afterwards due to the result, I feel sure would testify to paralleling that sentiment, acknowledging that as days out go, and for entertainment value, this was indeed great fun.

Fast forward a week, to something which is supposed to be a spectacle, broadcast around the world as a triumph both for football, and indeed the always much loved underdog, due to the fact that progression to the FA Cup final was guaranteed to a team either from the Championship or the lower echelons of the Premier League, (something to be celebrated by sports fans simply because of the accomplishment), and sadly all the talk is of the violence which marred the game near its end. Was this the same venue? Was it even the same game? Surely a place that can elicit such a group dynamic which only radiated positivity one week, cannot evince such a negative, a mere 6 days later, when the only discernible differences between the two events are the geographical location of the sets of the supporters, and the prestige of the prize on offer. It was, of course, just a few individuals, and it would be wrong to say otherwise, and it is highly likely that the people involved came with a predisposition for fighting, not to mention fueled by more alcohol than our excursion, (mostly due to the late kick-off compared to our early outing I might speculate), and yet, the day was marred, Wembley was tarnished, and my memory of having been there was called into question by myself, caught up in the idea that maybe I'd allowed sentiment to cloud reality, and that this place I'd seen as a temple to all that was good about competitive sport, was just a facade, hiding the primal nature which all to often in animals, which in the end we all are, manifests in violence.

Then, one day more, and the spectacle is back, a veritable feast of frenetic end to end chaos, and the events of the day before are history once again. Man City and Chelsea served up a game to sate any neutrals thirst for the game. And yet, underneath it now, there is a lingering sourness in the mouth, and I fear this might take some cleansing. There is something, somewhere, inside me that is thankful that this has happened so close to the end of the season, so that a reincarnation can occur within those few weeks off. Football can rise from its own ashes and stand proud again within its own mythos. Something new yet old, and something which we as fans can all share in again, perhaps like the people in Wembley did, just a few days ago, of which I was honoured to be a part of. Lets hope so.

Source: DSG