30. Chelsea (h) 2-1 : 2015/16 Premier League
(Zarate (17), Carroll (79) - Cahill (56))The 2015/16 season remains a curiosity in the Premier League archives, largely because it took the unusual step of actually being interesting. Most West Ham fans look back upon the season as a great success as we marauded to 7th in the league behind the brilliant Dimitri Payet and generally played entertaining football that proved a stunning antidote to that produced by Sam Allardyce.
Personally I felt it was a missed opportunity. Manager Slaven Bilic didn't seem to have much more tactical acumen than just telling his team to give it to Payet whenever possible, and as with so many before and after him, he chose to discard effective combinations elsewhere in order to crowbar Andy Carroll into his side. On certain days however, that strategy was to prove exceptionally effective and this was one.
Jose Mourinho's side arrived here as champions but finished the day in 15th as Upton Park offered up yet another barnstorming London derby and sent another local rival home sheepish in defeat. We opened the scoring early with a smart strike from Mauro Zarate, and held that lead comfortably as Chelsea then saw Nemanja Matic correctly sent off for two yellow cards.
Mourinho in repose - 2015, Artist Unknown
At this point Chelsea went collectively mental, everybody got booked and Mourinho was sent to the Directors Box, which produced this absolutely gorgeous Renaissance painting of a photo when we would later score our winner. In the intervening period, however, Chelsea would shape up pretty well with ten men and Gary Cahill bagged a deserved equaliser.
With time slipping away Bilic sent on Carroll, which is akin to releasing a lion in a classroom to sort out an unruly set of teenagers. Even so, Carroll thunderbastarded an Aaron Cresswell cross into the net with ten minutes to go and the roof nearly came off the ground. We went up to third and then promptly lost 2-0 at Watford a week later to highlight why it would be Leicester and not us who would take advantage of a season of madness.
(Amalfitano (21), Sakho (75) - Silva (77))
When Sam Allardyce arrived at Upton Park, this was what we were promised. A well organised team, sprinkled with skilful attackers in front of a solid defence and a few bloody noses for the big boys. In truth, he didn't particularly deliver on that but he did briefly stumble upon an exciting looking combination in the first half of the 2014/15 season.
This game is included primarily because Manchester City were the real deal at this point, and defending champions to boot. They came fully armed with the likes of Sergio Aguero, David Silva and Yaya Toure and this victory remains one of the few times we have laid a glove on them in the modern era.
This West Ham team was anchored around the wonderful Alex Song, who was magnificent this season, and led by the attacking duo of Enner Valencia and Diafra Sakho who feasted on service from a rejuvenated Stewart Downing.
We opened the scoring here when Song and Valencia combined to set up Morgan Amalfitano for a tap in. We then rode our luck quite significantly as City did the cross bar challenge for an hour. Sakho seemed to have wrapped it up with a thumping header late on, but a frankly brilliant Silva goal meant the last ten minutes were terrifying. Still, we held on and rose to fourth before Allardyce changed the system to try and get Carroll back into the team. We won just three games after Christmas and finished the season in twelfth.
Another waste.
(Zamora (57))
While I don't generally have fond recollections of our Play Off adventures as I think they simply tend to highlight the debacle that various boards have made of running the club, it's also true that as purely theatrical events they can't really be beaten.
This was no different, although by this stage these games had devolved into paralysing, nervy affairs rather than the free flowing buccaneering matches of old.
The. Exact. Same. Haircut
This match was particularly tight, as Preston seemed to freeze a little, perhaps wary of the growing tradition for sixth place teams to arrive in the play offs and beat those who had finished above them. We actually started the better team and some unholy combination of events led to Tomas Repka hitting the post in the first half. Preston improved after the break, albeit we continued to look more threatening and it wasn't all that surprising when man of the moment Bobby Zamora swept in a Matthew Etherington cross to give us the lead.
After that we retreated to defend our advantage and try and hit them on the break, which did wonders for cardiac health in the East End, and also threw in a horrific looking injury to goalkeeper Jimmy Walker as well.
We clung on, as we probably deserved to, but in truth I think there were very few fans who watched this game and felt particularly confident about Pardew's men in the Premier League. Still, a day to say you were there and it felt like something approaching a catharsis considering that we had lost the equivalent match a year previously with a dismal display against Crystal Palace.
(Soucek (45), Antonio (51), Yarmolenko (89) - Willian (42 p, 72))
Ah, the London Stadium! There aren't too many matches from the Indian burial site on this list, largely because we've been almost unrelentingly shit since we've moved there, but this one from the middle of a pandemic makes the cut.
At the start of the day we were out of the bottom three solely on goal difference and seemingly staring relegation in the face after an especially insipid 2-0 defeat to Spurs. However, the arrival of Tomas Soucek and Jarrod Bowen had given an added thrust to our attack while Michail Antonio was about to go on one of those red hot streaks that make him such a favourite for Fantasy League managers.
Here we were mugged initially, when a Soucek goal was bizarrely ruled out by VAR on the grounds that Antonio was lying down in an offside position, and made to pay immediately when Willian gave Chelsea an undeserved lead. However, the Czech midfielder wasn't to be denied and headed us level right on half time. Antonio soon gave us the lead before Willian smashed in a fantastic free kick to leave us staring at a, frankly, not terrible point. However, Andriy Yarmolenko got free in the last minute to run on to an Antonio through ball and steal all three points and, essentially, seal our survival. The Ukranian is a bit of a poster boy for the stupidity of the Pellegrini/Sullivan axis but there's no doubt about him on two fronts - firstly, he should never be given any defensive responsibility, and secondly, he is deadly if you let him on his left foot.
For all that I think we have actually benefitted from not having to play in front of crowds, I can't help wishing I had been there to see this particular last minute winner. Not that I don't generally enjoy the fruity conversation while we all stand aimlessly at a Stop/Go sign in the middle of the set of 28 Days Later but it would all have felt just a touch more romantic on this balmy July evening.
(Moses (6), Sakho (31) - De Bruyne (45)
In truth, the reverse fixture from this season was a better game - a pulsating 2-2 draw that saw a Dimitri Payet masterclass at Upton Park. However, it also worth remembering that this was a win against the then most expensive starting line up in Premier League history, and the first defeat of the season for the unbeaten City. This remains our only league win at the Etihad and for that reason I have included it here - you just don't win there very much these days.
Things began well when Victor Moses beat Joe Hart low to his left from long range (who knew?), and got even better when Diafra Sakho added a second on the half hour following a goalmouth scramble. Kevin de Bruyne pulled one back on his home debut but Adrian was unbeatable in a lively second half and we hung on for a remarkable victory.
This win actually took us into second place but we would draw the following match at home to Norwich which was entirely in keeping with our wildly unpredictable form this year. I can't think of many sides who could win successive away matches at Arsenal, Liverpool and Manchester City and still lose 4-3 at home to Bournemouth but that was to be our lot this season. I don't think Slaven Bilic was a great manager, but you can't deny that he managed some great results.
(Carragher (OG 21), Ashton (28), Konchesky (64) - Cisse (32), Gerrard (54, 90)) 1-3 on penalties
Too soon? It's too soon, right?
I still can't really talk about this game. Objectively it's probably the best Cup Final of the modern era and subjectively, the bravest West Ham performance I've ever seen, but I still can't even really devote any emotional real estate to it. It simply makes me sad.
Yes, it's too soon
We had some luck in the semi final when we were drawn against Middlesbrough and Liverpool were left to deal with Jose Mourinho's borderline invincible Chelsea, a team we had little chance of beating. As it was, Rafa Benitez took care of his long time nemesis and we met in the match that was once the highlight of the English season.
Truthfully, we should have won - even Alan Hansen was to admit as much in his BBC column - but were denied by the force of nature that is Steven Gerrard. I can't deny the brilliance of the man but I begrudged him that day. He won plenty in his career. This one was ours.
Things began brightly when Dean Ashton and Lionel Scaloni combined to force Jamie Carragher into putting through his own net. Ashton followed up with a second shortly after and I admit that I foolishly began to dream. Gerrard, however, was just revving up and he soon set up Djibril Cisse for the first Liverpool goal and then smacked home an equaliser. Boyhood Hammers fan Paul Konchesky then fluked a cross into the net to put us 3-2 ahead and it seemed that he would be the hero of the day until a moment of oft overlooked controversy.
In injury time, with West Ham in possession we put the ball out to allow a Liverpool player to receive treatment, but when the ball was thrown back to Scaloni he was immediately pressured by Liverpool players. It's not a huge scandal - it was the last minute after all - but faced with that pressure the Argentine miskicked it aimlessly to the middle of the park. From there the ball was headed out to an exhausted Gerrard who, well you know.
Extra time continued in the same vein and despite our evident physical superiority we couldn't snatch the winner we deserved. In a moment of huge pathos, our own brilliant skipper Nigel Reo-Coker headed against the bar and the rebound fell to the injured Marlon Harewood who screwed the ball wide with the goal gaping. On such moments do cup finals hang, and we then took the worst set of fucking penalties in history and that was all she wrote. As a game this should be higher, and as an emotional experience this probably shouldn't be on the list at all. I'll let you decide whether this rating feels right.
(Zamora (61, 72))
Context needed.
In 2004 we had powered into the play offs, lost our first leg game at Portman Road and then simply blown Ipswich away in the return leg. This time around we needed a final day victory at Watford to edge out Reading and claim sixth place, and in truth while there is often a narrative around destiny that is attached to teams who finish sixth, we were a nervy bunch heading into the 2005 iteration.
In a twist of fate we faced Ipswich again, but this time with the first leg at Upton Park. We blitzed them once more to go two up before collapsing and letting them get away with a slightly undeserved draw. Much of the pre match discussion therefore focused on whether we would crumble as Ipswich had done a year earlier in the second leg - traditionally games that end up being on the insane side of mental. With a younger team featuring Elliot Ward and Anton Ferdinand at centre back, I suppose that wasn't completely crazy but we made a mockery of such fears with a splendid display. Again, Tomas Repka was an unlikely early threat but the real damage was done by Bobby Zamora who scored two second half goals, with the second being a fantastic first time cushioned volley, off an inch perfect through ball from strike partner Marlon Harewood.
Actually, both goals were created by Harewood who was in fine form, while Matthew Etherington was sublime and for a second consecutive year we brushed Ipswich aside pretty easily. They must hate us down there.
(Sheringham (46), Reo-Coker (62), Etherington (80) - Todd (18))
Just a few months after that victorious night at Portman Road we were back in the Premier League after a two year absence. These days I think there is an acceptance that the gap between the bottom of the top flight and the top of the Championship is pretty minimal. However, in 2005 we snuck up with a squad of players picked up from other Championship teams and then supplemented them with a number of other largely unproven types like Danny Gabbidon, James Collins and Yossi Benayoun.
Over time those fears would be dispelled, and probably should have been dispensed with the minute we saw that Blackburn were captained by Andy Todd, but after we went one down in the first half (to a goal by Todd, naturally) there was a communal sense of nervousness.
With the rain falling, and the team kicking towards the Bobby Moore end, there was a general feeling on the air that something special needed to happen. Teddy Sheringham got things going by rolling in an equaliser after Todd turned back into a pumpkin, and then Nigel Reo-Coker smashed home a fabulous second just after an hour.
Better than we remember, I think
(Dicks (55 p), Kitson (68, 90) - Vialli (26), Hughes (87))
Upton Park under the lights, man. Was there anywhere better to watch football? Well, yes, when you're watching your team lose to Stoke, but on other nights you'd swear the place was doused in magic.
By March 1997 we were slumped in the bottom three and desperately pinning our hopes on the newly arrived strike pairing of John Hartson and Paul Kitson. The squad was a slightly strange mix of the old - Dicks, Potts, Bishop, Dowie, Breacker - and the new - Porfirio, Lampard, Ferdinand, Williamson - and while that may have looked good on paper, it was turning out to be pretty shit on actual grass.
This was shaping up to be another typically disappointing night when a Bishop mistake allowed Gianfranco Zola to slip in Gianluca Vialli for an opening goal. This held until the 55th minute when Julian Dicks nearly took the net off when he smashed home the equalising penalty. Not long after, Kitson smartly gave us the lead but we seemed to have blown it when Mark Hughes headed an 87th minute equaliser. Undeterred we went up the other end in injury time and Kitson smuggled in an Iain Dowie header to give us a deserved, and vital, win.
I once wrote of Upton Park that as Neil Young said, "when she danced we could really love", and this was one such night. Songs rising up to the roof and then bouncing around the place and seemingly dragging the team forward like an invisible magnetic force. Looking back, Kitson's winner wasn't so much an event at a football match as it was a cosmic certainty. It's not that the London Stadium can't offer up such moments but they seem totally out of place when they arrive. At Upton Park they were constantly hovering just out of sight, permanently imminent like a song you hear in the back of your mind, or a fight in a McDonalds. God, I miss that place.
(Antonio (7))
Some games of football carry a weight. From the day I got up on the March 2, 2016 until the moment the final whistle blew I carried a lead lined blanket on my chest. This was the last time Spurs would visit Upton Park, this was their first chance of going top of the league in March since 1964 and it's not an exaggeration to say that this felt like the pivotal game in the title race so far. A win was really the only acceptable outcome.
We were battling injuries, and indeed finished this game with a back three of Cheikhou Kouyate, a hobbling Angelo Ogbonna and teenager Reece Oxford. It didn't matter, as we dominated from start to finish and totally outplayed a Spurs team who didn't manage a shot in the first half and did nothing to dispel the myth that they tended to bottle the big occasion.
Would I let him drive me home? No, but the man scores big goals
From the moment that Michail Antonio headed in a Dimitri Payet corner in the 7th minute, the away supporters were forced to stand in silence and watch as Slaven Bilic wrung yet another manic performance from his charges. Payet was supreme but so too were Mark Noble and Manuel Lanzini, while the famed Tottenham pressing game foundered repeatedly on a rock solid backline.
It's true that when I researched this piece I could have picked about twenty games with Spurs. The really sad truth is that for all the drama and late goals, for Spurs they have generally been winners and for us they've typically been equalisers. But when we've won games, they've really meant something in terms of stopping Spurs. I'd really rather that these matches were about our success rather than their failure but I suppose that's the truth of the era we're currently in. So yeah, fuck it, we derailed their first title bid in years and it was really rather enjoyable.
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