(8th December 2020) Finally I awoke on a Saturday with football anticipation; though joy was tempered with anxiety because the club, quite rightly, made me complete an online questionnaire to ensure I was Covid free. However, I had to print out the confirmation that they had decreed I was safe. Submitted at 11.00- it did not come through until 15.03, thus eventually relieving tension.
The match kicked off at 8.00 pm, not a time I had experienced before; I was setting out in the dark for the first time since lockdown. The journey to the match (healthy backstreet walk, short tube journey) did not feel like a journey to the match; it was more akin to the semi-dystopian post-apocalyptic anxiety dreams we all (or I do anyway) experience from time to time.
The pubs were empty and not inviting to me (I’d had my dinner). No away fans in their northern trousers congregating outside a particular pub. Almost no one on the tube and no indication of any spectators just masked passengers maintaining an even greater distance from me than usual.
At the ground entrance was secure. I produced my printed ticket, printed “from what you said you have not got Covid” email (which somewhat excludes people who are not online and or don’t have a printer) as well as producing my passport to prove I was me (also excluding those who do not have a driving licence or a passport). They scanned these and photographed them (useful for track and trace I guess).
Then my temperature was taken where they detected that I was a vampire with a forehead temperature of 5 degrees Centigrade. They tried a different machine, then a third (which I assume worked).
Next the bag check (I had none) and I had to open my substantial coat- presumably to demonstrate that I was not smuggling in a person of restricted growth.
I was obviously (and sensibly) wearing a mask. My glasses had steamed up giving that authentic London fog experience.
This blurry picture below shows the above.
Flashing my ticket at a machine I was let in.
Normally the concourse is full of people; beer, noise and colours. It was sparsely populated with masked and sensibly wrapped up fans; the lack of a buzz of gleeful anticipation was marked, it felt like the survivors of a disaster waiting for rescue.
Everywhere the messaging was highly prescriptive.
My seat was clearly marked- only green blob seats were in use, the blob next to me was vacant as my bubble was not with me.
The most disorientating element was my not sitting on my usual side of the pitch as well as being much lower down (and the tv feed on the screen showing the view from the other side). Further my glasses were still steamed up.
But, then The Liquidator” boomed out and we all stood, our gloved hands clapping only slightly off beat in a reggae/industrial mash up.
Once the game started, I dispensed with my glasses as the slight lack of focus was better than fog.
I enjoyed the game- the full drama of them scoring first, clawing one back then getting two more in the second half to make a nice victory. They even played “One Step Beyond” (only played after special games) and I jiggled along with the rest in my non syncopated way.
Did I enjoy it? Yes, though I missed S who sits on my left and the three manly excited hugs when we scored. I also missed J who sits on my right, not just for his calming and sensible influence when I get too tense but also his warm and comforting bulk keeping out draughts.
And what I missed most was the pub afterwards with my football chums.
Here is the music. (If it works; I have had a few technical problems)
