October 3, 2015
Crystal Palace – West Bromwich Albion
Selhurst Park
First off, and I knew this – Selhurst Park is not in central London. I had been once before, for my first ever Premier League game and had planned to take the train down to South London for that game. We overslept then and took a very expensive taxi ride back in 2013. I was bound not to do the same.
And yet here I was, 45 minutes before my scheduled tour trying to explain to the Uber driver where we were standing and ultimately giving up and jumping into a London black cab. I love Uber and think it’s great, but the London taxi drivers have another level of knowledge that was crucial to saving our oversleeping asses (again). 45 minutes, £45 and about 45,000 speed humps later (South London is full of these things), I ask the driver to stop outside of Selhurst Park, thinking we are right by the entrance to the tour. I stop a steward and learn that it’s on the opposite end of the stadium due to the strange numbering system. I tell my wife to get a move on – I don’t want to miss the tour.
It turns out we didn’t need to worry. We were ushered in and waited in a bar entrance to the stadium. Eventually a guide showed up to start the tour, though this one was for the “Junior Eagles” and their families. While waiting, we met a guy from LA who was back to Selhurst for a second time as well – picking the Eagles after his first tour of English football had him loving the atmosphere at Selhurst more than all others as well (which is how I ended up there too). There was a Japanese couple and the rest were English fans and their families—a group of 15-20 of us. Finally around 10:30, after warning us not to post any pictures on social media until after kickoff (so as not to inadvertently give team secrets away) the tour for the adults and international members began.
They brought us through Speroni’s Restaurant, where they were serving breakfast for friends of the team’s owners. It wasn’t too full at this hour. There was a selection of Palace Ale and wine available for sale (one of the owners owns a wine merchant, you can see their ads around the touch line if you watch on TV). Then we were taken through to the interview rooms that they use after the games. Not only is the corridor tiny, the rooms are postage stamp-sized as well – maybe 8’x8’. There were three or four of them ready for use.
We then went into the Palace dressing room. Again, surprisingly small compared to what I expected. I guess in some ways, Selhurst is a bit like the Fenway of English football. It’s a small, old stadium, inhabited by knowledgeable and die-hard fans, with very limited space to expand or even improve the stadium.
All of the players’ kits were hung up as they would be entering the dressing room in roughly 30 minutes. Some guys had better spots than others, many didn’t have much of a locker or place to put their street clothes. It seemed that the bigger name players were towards the inside, with lockers, while the second team was against the window with no lockers. A TV was tuned to the Palace pregame show and the trainers were ready to give last minute treatment to the players. They were pretty proud of their new showers, which the guide said were as good as at home, that is, if you had a communal shower at home that your co-workers used as well.
We then got to walk out of the tunnel. This is not a Stamford Bridge or Etihad tunnel. This is like walking down your grandma’s hallway tunnel. There is not room for two athletic men to stand shoulder to shoulder, much less have a mini-me mascot at his side. The players definitely do not run out of the tunnel at Selhurst. This would be a disaster if they tried.
We entered the field at the corner, and we were advised under pain of death to stay off the grass. Which was fine, because they had the sprinklers going about 15 seconds after we got onto field level. We then got to go pose for pictures in the dugout and sit in the race car seats that populate the sidelines at BPL matches.
The guide herded us up to the stands, just as Joe Ledley, Scott Dann and Fraizer Campbell entered the park. They stopped for a few quick photos with some kids and we moved on to the Palace trophy case.
Yes, I laughed too when I heard that was part of the tour. There actually are a few notable trophies in the case, including the one from the Championship playoff in 2013 that sent them back to the Premier League. We also had a look at the trophy commemorating Super Alan Pardew getting Palace into the FA Cup final and the one Cup that Palace actually won – the 1991 Zenith Data Systems Cup (the ZDS trophy aspires to League/Capital One Cup prominence). There was also a trophy commemorating the first game under lights at Selhurst Park versus (of all teams) Real Madrid. They had invited Manchester United, who wanted too much money, so Real Madrid became the replacement.
After this, our tour concluded and we exited the stadium. I wanted to pick up a new jacket, and my wife wanted to pick up a couple things as well. First, we headed for the Angus stand outside and got a Cumberland sausage sandwich. While eating, we realized that the team had set up a pathway for the players to walk through on their way from the parking lot to the dressing room. It was all very informal, and many of the players came by, casually chatting with fans, signing autographs and getting their pictures taken. Yohan Cabaye seemed more than happy to oblige my wife, while Pap Souare seemed less excited to have his picture taken with me, even after I busted out my one word of Wolof to thank him – maybe he didn’t hear me. But the approachability and lack of barriers between player and fan was really refreshing to see. You could tell some players liked it more than others, but it was definitely part of their jobs and they knew it.
The Crystals, Crystal Palace’s cheerleaders were also in attendance, happily taking pictures with the overwhelmingly male audience. There was a DJ outside playing dance tunes (which the Crystals happily danced to) while people ate and waited to go into the stadium.
We decided to go pick up our tickets, but first had to check out the yellow Ferrari that had just pulled up in the player parking lot. I’ve since found out that it belongs to principal owner Steve Parish, who bought it after Palace defeated Manchester United in the League Cup quarterfinals, while wearing yellow jerseys that day.
Our tickets were a bit of a pain to obtain, something that happened the first time we went. Selhurst Park is somewhat unique in that there is a working supermarket attached to the stadium. This creates some crowds, and there are several spots for will-call. After checking around in a few places, I found out our tickets were “print at home” tickets, which I did not realize or did not remember. The helpful ticket guy printed new tickets for us.
We still had plenty of time before kick-off, so tickets in hand, we headed over to the Clifton Arms for a pint before the game. As is common practice (as I’ve come to find out) we were required to show our tickets prior to going into the pub—presumably to keep out trouble, even though I was wearing some Palace gear. No big deal though. We found our way to the back of the pub where it was less crowded, got a beer and a cider and made our way out back where there were picnic tables set up to enjoy the nice day. We enjoyed our drinks and headed back for the game. On the way, I bought a Crystal Palace zine for £1.50 and recognized the voice of the guy selling it as one of the hosts of the Five Year Plan podcast. I thanked him for the zine and the pod and he seemed pretty happy to hear the trans-Atlantic support.
But once inside the stadium, I had to try one of the Premier League’s most expensive pies. This is kind of a running joke with my friend Mike, so I had to get one (and he’s a Chelsea fan, so that’s the only thing that’s cheaper at Stamford Bridge). I also grabbed a Palace Ale to wash it down. I asked for steak and ale, but got a chicken curry pie by mistake. It was really good, and I was happy for the mixup, but it was fucking HOT – like skin peeling off of the roof of my mouth hot. And the bottom fell out. But it was pretty tasty and worth £4 even if I was physically unable to eat the whole thing.
I do have to kind of take a minute and say for all of the complaining about ticket prices and concessions in England, it’s really not that bad to American eyes. Our seats were like $50 and a $6 pie would have cost at least $9 in the US. I get that there are differences in salaries and I really love that people from all walks of life go to games in England – and that teams and supporter groups try to keep prices accessible. I’m not knocking any of that. It’s just that to my foreign eyes, it seems pretty affordable already compared to what I’m used to.
We settled into our seats and watched Kayla the eagle fly around the stadium. The players came out cheered on by the Crystals at the opposite end. The team seem to have co-opted some of the cheesier features of American sports. I would cringe if the Red Sox had cheerleaders, but it seemed to work for a club that is working its way up the league hierarchy.
We were seated in the section directly across the corner from the Holmesdale Fanatics. Dressed in all black, these guys do not stop and are a huge reason why I love the atmosphere at Selhurst Park. They had the flags and stood and sang the entire game – from “Glad All Over” to the final whistle.
I knew that West Brom would play defensively and try and steal a win as they did the same thing last year when they came to Selhurst, despite being outplayed. Even at 0-0 at halftime, we just felt that the goals would eventually come.
A quick word about halftime. Since alcohol isn’t sold in the stands, everyone drinks heavily before the game. Then, as halftime approaches, everyone’s bladder is full to bursting and there’s a mad rush for the trough toilets. Once you actually tap a kidney, maybe you want to slug one more beer in the five minutes or so you have until kick off, but either way, you’ll need to make your way through at least 2000 smokers to get back to your seat. If I have the misfortune of every getting lung cancer, I’m pretty sure my walk from the men’s room to my seat at Selhurst Park is where it came from.
After the half, Palace really broke West Brom down. The first goal came off a set piece with Cabaye feeding Yannick Bolasie for his first goal at Selhurst in years. As some of you know, I have a bit of a man-crush on Bolasie, so I was pretty excited about that. Wilf Zaha just destroyed Chris Brunt all game (though my wife thought Brunt was cute) and finally earned a late penalty that made it 2-0. It was a big day for Cabaye with a goal and assist.
I really enjoyed a lot of the songs, many of which I actually knew from watching the games on TV. I always love hearing “We Love You” which comes after a goal, but probably my favorite song of the day was, “Oh Tony Pulis, What Have You Done?” as Palace completed their utter domination of West Brom. There were lots of other old favorites too. Some may have been old or tired to the old fans (“Can you hear the West Brom Sing, I don’t hear a fucking thing”), but as someone that grew up with “Let’s Go Red Sox!” and “Yankees Suck!” the variety and creativity in the songs was most welcome – and really makes the fan experience superior in my view.
After the game, we headed back towards the Clifton Arms rather fight the crowds on the train back to London. Walking out down Holmesdale Road after the game reminded me a little bit of walking down Landsdowne after a home game at Fenway. I have a bit of a t-shirt collection and am always on the lookout for new ones. I saw one on our walk back towards the Clifton Arms that I wish I had gotten a better picture of. It was a guy of a certain stature (in the blue shirt on the right side of the photo below), whose shirt said, “Why have abs when you can have kebabs?”
We got back to the Clifton Arms and enjoyed our spot out back again. I realized at this point just how much I loved the crowd here – something that was even more evident once I went to the Emirates the next day. The pubs in North London were filled with people that would not have looked out of place in a J. Crew ad. The crowd here was diverse like you don’t see at a lot of sporting events in the US. The neighborhood around the stadium is very much an immigrant neighborhood. I got the sense that a lot of Londoners turn their noses up at the area. It’s working class, it’s poor, it’s different. But it was vibrant and exciting in a way that made me picture what English soccer was like before the Premier League brought in billions of pounds. I loved the atmosphere in the area. And once inside, there were people with neck tattoos and chain smokers. There were people who were probably struggling financially that saved their money to bring their kids to a big game. People of all different colors and
religions. My (short) row was two Americans, and Indian guy, a grandfather and his grandson and two twenty-something Palace fans. It was really a cool scene, and it was again evident after the game as some dads got their kids ice cream while they downed a couple last pints before heading home and a couple of what you would picture as prototypical soccer hooligans continued their celebration of the day. And down in the men’s room at the Clifton Arms was one of my favorite bits of sports graffiti – just eloquent and biting in its simplicity:
After this, we decided to head back to our hotel. We were able to take the train this time, though sadly had a bit of my “It’s A Small World” love session with South London was broken up a bit, as a man at the train station suggested I might like to give him some money since, you know, he supports the KKK and not all of the dark people in the station. Um, no….that’s not going to work with me. That was the only black mark on an otherwise amazing day. I’m already looking forward to going back.
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