More than a year ago, my old friend Bryan took the trip north from Nottingham and accompanied me to watch Newcastle United entertain Arsenal at St James Park. It turned out to be a history-making match where the Toon came back from 4 goals down to draw level with the Gunners. I can still remember how Bryan kindly refused my offer of sweets during half-time but after Newcastle's third goal, nervously requested for one. I'm not sure if the 'trauma' of seeing his team capitulate so dramatically converted him, but I was pleasantly surprised to receive his email three months back telling me that West Bromwich Albion were his new favourites and inviting me to watch his team against mine. The 'Baggies', as West Brom are affectionately referred as, happen to be my second favourite team in the league. I had the privilege of bumping into Roy Hodgson, their well-respected manager, last October near my house in Durham, and appreciated the good five minutes he gave to me signing an autograph and graciously agreeing to pose for a photo with me. There aren't many teams in the top tier which are as honest as the Baggies and on their day, the team is capable of troubling the top English sides. My favourite footballing personality, the late Sir Bobby Robson, captained the team for a couple of seasons in the early 1960s. Accepting Bryan's offer was easy. However, there was a tricky part to it: sitting among the home fans watching my favourite team play against theirs.
It was nice seeing Bryan again after a year and after a sumptuous Malaysian lunch in Birmingham's Chinatown, we boarded a train from Birmingham Moor Street to The Hawthorns. It was Sunday and trains to the ground arrived less frequently than usual. We were packed like sardines in our carriage and reactions of commuters ranged from jocularity to sheer displeasure. You could hear women screaming at their plights and a girl nearby began crying. It's something you'll commonly experience at peak hour in Singapore's trains but it was apparent that to many in this part of the world, this was a startling aberration. It was a great relief when most alighted after three stops at The Hawthorns.
The warm weather made the spectacle a comfortable one though the four o'clock sun was in our eyes for most of the game. Bryan and I had good seats and were close enough to the pitch, and individual players could even hear solitary shouts directed at them from the crowd! If you've watched a game with me, you'd know how excitable I can get and it was going to be a challenge keeping my emotions in check. I'd have to put my limited acting skills into practice or risk getting mobbed by the home fans. Relatively early goals from Cisse and Hatem Ben Arfa elicited shouts of jubilation from the away fans and I couldn't help but wish I had the ability to teleport into their section. Cisse scored a second after good work by Ben Arfa, who terrorised the Baggies throughout the game, and there was a palpable sense of disbelief and frustration among the home fans. I felt for Bryan who must have been as shell-shocked as I was with the home side's lacklustre first-half performance. Shane Long pulled a goal back shortly after the break and memories of the final game of last season, when we went 3-0 up against the Baggies only to draw 3-3, began to haunt me (and I'm sure many in the away section shared such fears). Fortunately for me, I was spared going through what Bryan did at St James and the scoreline remained 3-1 at the final whistle.
I apologised to Bryan as I may have appeared to have become some sort of jinx to him and I hope that he'll continue to watch games with me. He did actually say we'd watch a game together again but it must not involve West Brom or Arsenal. He was later persuaded that his decision to buy a match programme was the real reason for the Baggies unexpected defeat as he recalled that in previous times when he bought programmes, the team also ended up losing. Phew!
After the game, we proceeded to wait outside the away players' exit, hoping for autographs. We duly got several players to sign on my annual and his programme. I was delighted to obtain Shola Ameobi's as he's the only player (besides Steve Harper who rarely features these days) remaining from the time I first supported the club some ten years ago. Bryan told me that the Liverpool players, after playing at The Hawthorns, didn't bother to give autographs after the game, and this made me prouder to be a Newcastle supporter. I felt that it was only fair for players to acknowledge fans who travel miles and spend significant amounts of money to watch them play. The players' performance and kind gestures made me feel that the time I spent travelling to and from the Midlands (9 hours in total) and the money I paid for the trains and ticket were well-spent.
On my way back to Durham, I began to reflect on how a mere three years ago, watching Newcastle live was a dream. Travelling to the U.K. would have been costly and even then, I would only be able to catch one, at most, two games as a tourist. To be able to spend three years here studying was something which never crossed my mind till a year before I actually arrived in England. Having watched them live numerous times now, I realise that I began to take the privilege for granted. Today, having been this close to the players, and after getting Shola's autograph (I know all this may sound trivial to non-football fans), I began thinking again about how I've been blessed with this tremendous opportunity to study here in the U.K. It's not just the experience of watching my beloved football team play that I'm grateful for, but I'm also thankful for the friends I've made and the education (studying two subjects: history and life) I've been able to receive thus far. All this would not have been possible without God's provision.
