As I blogged on Saturday about going to see West Ham play, I couldn't have imagined the performance we would see. All things considered I don't think we could have picked a better day to go:
Zola's first game in charge;
A return to full on attacking football;
Two goals and an assist from David Di Michele (Could he become as important to us as Paolo Di Canio?);
And of course a 3-1 win!
It was easy to come away from Upton Park on Saturday feeling happy and content.
It then dawned on me as we travelled back on the tube that for many that were travelling with us, this was their life. Making the pilgrimage to the Boleyn Ground (Official name of Upton Park) in the vague hope that maybe, just maybe, life will seem better because West Ham have won. That a win for West Ham will fill the void of emptiness that every human feels when left on their own. On this occasion, all the claret and blue supporters were upbeat, people were complimentary of the players, they admired the Zola's tactics, the game was positive etc etc.
However on the same train there were also Newcastle United supporters. The faces told the tale. They didn't make small talk, their faces were blank, they appeared tired and weary with the trudge of life. I realised that regardless of the fact that West Ham had won - my joy was in another.
My Messiah is not a Kevin Keegan type icon - my Messiah is Jesus. My hope is not that we might finish in the top half of the table this year, but my hope is in the promise of eternal life and a life now that is lived in the full knowledge that my God is for me and not against me.