Clear to all that the Olympic Stadium move was more about money than opportunity, my daughter and I ventured deep inside the Heart of Darkness, on a ‘London Stadium Tour,’ to see whether there was a light at the end of the never-ending tunnel.
The tour meets in the West Ham United Coffee Shop, where one Barista serves the fifteen or so punters that wait. This is a Wednesday morning during half term, so I expect it to be busy, but it is not. A sign of the times? A nod to the howling weather? It is unknown, but as I get to the front of the queue, our tour guide makes himself known.
It is going to take an hour and a half in total and before I have finished stirring my drink, we are off, up the stairs and along the concourse, to Entrance B.
I don’t usually frequent these parts of the stadium, as a season ticket holder in the Billy Bonds Stand. It is gleaming and shiny. There are well to do ladies working at computers in offices, there is another nice woman who hands us a headset and gets us through the incredibly lax security. In fact, I was given yellow plastic coins for the tour, which were never actually collected!
Anyway, we are furnished with headsets and 7 x 5 tablets for the journey; however the first part will be led by our tour guide.
Our first port of call is up the escalator to ‘The Royal East.’ A place of consummate luxury, I felt like I was at a 5-star Dubai Hotel, rather than the heart of East London.
The penny started to drop as our guide started talking about the well-stocked bar and how this could be hired on match day and how former players will come to your table and chat to you. I was in a sales pitch. The kids had sat down and were playing with their tablets. The men looked around at the glitz.
Sensing the mood, a question and answer with the kids takes place. He asks where our former ground was on a map. I feel a knot develop in my stomach. We are worlds apart, but I take a deep breath and remind myself that that one has gone. I feel very emotional that my ten-year-old by my side will never walk along Green Street in the throng. Will never dance pre-match in the Boleyn and will never experience the roar of Bubbles under the lights at our true home. But, I like many West Ham fans, have learnt that tough love is best in this situation. It’s gone, move on son!
We are led to the balcony and the tour guide makes a crass joke about the padding on the seats and how this area is for the top brass. We smile wryly.
I learn a few things of interest. Firstly that West Ham rent the stadium for nine months of the year. This surprised me. I did the maths. That must be June, July and August that we don’t. That means that all that drivel from Brady about ‘football being the most important factor’ was literally drivel. We don’t even rent the stadium then, so how could we play our home games in August?
He also discusses the fact that there are 54,000 season ticket holders (something our owners often brag about). In addition to the 3,000 Away allocation, there is only around 2,500 left for the general public. I am desperate to discuss why the club insist on publishing attendances well in excess of 59,000, when those who attend know full well this is not the case. This is not a forum for open discussion though. He mutters something about tickets sold, rather than actual attendance and moves swiftly on.
The guide talks about the shallowness of the seats (not like a football stadium – more like a cricket ground) he sniggers, blissfully unaware I daresay of how this sole issue has caused so much unrest between the fanbase and the owners.
We swiftly are urged to shout loudly, to produce an echo in the stadium, which appeases the adults and titillates the youngsters once more.
We then sit, watch a video about the Olympics, learn about the baseball games coming up and how the dirt is imported from America (more sales pitch), before a photographic opportunity. It is then a Bobby Moore video (a welcome respite), as we head down two flights of stairs and into the player’s area.
My daughter sniggers at the word ‘testicle’ as she learns about Sir Bobby’s struggles. We enter into the player’s area, there is a claret and blue canopy with the words, ‘the hotter the furnace, the stronger the iron,’ adorning the wall.
What a great adage, why hasn’t this been put out around the stadium, spread across the fans? Another failing in the marketing and match day experience department, but in principle, there is a platform here.
More Q and A and we enter the changing rooms. Modern, swanky and very cool, the kids are elated. All the player’s shirts are out and it is a great photo opportunity.
We go past the showers (that Brady so famously raved about) and the plunge pools, before going through to an indoor running track and a ten minute stop for professional tour photos.
Finally, we are through to the walk onto the pitch. The guide organised us into four teams led out by the youngsters and away we went. I really want to say that this was the highlight and pinnacle of the tour, but as has become so typically predictable these days at our club, it was confused and diluted.
Just as we set out on the infamous walk, the guide asked us to put our headphones on and refer to our video. So while we did the walk (something you would assume would require your full concentration), we were also looking at a screen of teams walking out onto the pitch at the London Stadium. It was like a surreal David Lynch moment.
So whilst trying not to walk into the child in front of me, I had one eye on the screen and my third eye on the stadium as I walked out.
I get what they are trying to do – enhance the experience, but it didn’t work. It ended up feeling contrived and convoluted.
What struck me, was that the carpet is very nice close up, this cannot be denied. However it is just there to cover up the running track, a stark reminder, that this is not our home.
A few more snaps in the dugout and it was time to peruse our professional photos, before the tour ended and we headed back out into the East London rain. Due to my daughter’s jumper affecting the photographs, we were taken back into the belly of the beast to redo them. The second operator who took the photos, was a really nice chap and took us into the Manager’s Office and the Away changing rooms (not part of the tour).
This was insightful from a fan’s perspective as it showcased, the ridiculous size and space of the Manager’s space, with its own kitchen and large flat screen TV’s and interesting pot plants.
However, the away team’s changing rooms was just as I had feared.
More spacious and well intentioned than the home, with the same mod cons. It was palatial. No wonder oppositions love coming to us. Gone are the days of being squeezed into the fiery furnace of Upton Park. This is luxury. Baroness Brady’s work, where our opponents are our guests. This has nothing to do with football. A good thing, as she readily admits this is something she doesn’t have much love for.
I chat to the second guide some more and realise he is not local. I explain why Upton Park is so loved by fans. The intimidating atmosphere, the East End realness – nothing was… shiny.
He gets it.
He shows me the Boleyn restaurant, which is slightly more down market and actually represents the teams colours in places. He says this is much better on match days, more atmosphere and a bit more fun.
I smile wryly and wish I could transport him back twenty years, to the Trevor Brooking stand lower, a night game against Spurs, maybe?
We shake hands and I leave. All of these staff are just trying to earn a living in the corporate dynasty that our football club has become. It’s not their fault.
Whether Baroness Brady is at the club next season remains to be seen. But it is clear to see where her legacy lies; a shiny, soulless, corporate machine.
Welcome to West Ham London.
