My first White Hart Lane experience

Eight years ago, I was desperate to find my club. In the States, one’s preference of football club often borders on parody, and invariably leads the impressionable child to one of four conclusions: United, Liverpool, Chelsea, or Woolwich (City has been the recent favorite of the I-won’t-even-pretend-I’m-not-a-plastic subset).

I find this unfortunate reality ironic considering what I remember most about my early days of following English football is that absolutely none of them fit my fancy. Sure, the other kids had all the United and Woolwich gear but I couldn’t see the fun, or more importantly, the integrity, in this. It was always clear that none of these clubs would do.

Somehow, I ended up Tottenham. I wish I had a great story for this, one of those “The club chose me!” platitudes that we all fawn over unabashedly. What I do know is that I watched a fair share of football in these years, and Spurs was the team I unquestionably gravitated towards (this was 2008, so you know it’s not because we were winning more).

The kit was proper, the play was entertaining, the atmosphere was intimate (even through the screen), and the location was ideal. I guess Spurs checked all the boxes in my subconscious’ rubric for evaluating football clubs. Better yet, no possible accusations for bandwagoning.

[linequote]After eight years supporting abroad, I was finally able to secure tickets and transport to London[/linequote]

The years that followed have included their fair share of memorable moments: VDV’s equalizer and Kaboul’s winner at Woolwich, Bale’s Maicon-skinning hat trick at the San Siro, Crouch’s last-minute goal at City, etc. I remember accidentally waking up my entire family at seven on a Sunday morning when Parker played Lennon in for the second goal against Woolwich in 2013.

I remember huddling over my laptop in the corner of classroom in secondary school, watching some illegal stream and biting my tongue to keep from exclaiming when Bale fired in the last-minute winner at West Ham. Needless to say, eight years of football fandom bring you a fair share of memories.

I knew from the start that the February 28th match against Swansea would be an entirely different type of memory. After eight years supporting abroad, I was finally able to secure tickets and transport to London. When one has spent their entire life as a supporter viewing Tottenham through any number of screens, waking up at all hours in the early morning, nothing seems as exciting as the notion of seeing the spectacle in person, unfettered by distance and technological mediums.

[linequote]My experience at the Lane tells me that Tottenham goes beyond boyhood heroes and exciting football, even beyond title dreams[/linequote]

I was ecstatic to see the Lane before it goes down in a few years, and more than thrilled to see my favorite Spurs team in the flesh. After all, this is a title run-in we’re talking about. However, my experience at the Lane tells me that Tottenham goes beyond boyhood heroes and exciting football, even beyond title dreams.It hits right at the core of our emotional center and our primal desires to love, dream, and belong.

Entering White Hart Lane on match day, one feels themself commit to a Tottenham-oriented version of the Hobbesian body politic. Gone are all identities, statuses, and privileges. Instead, we become one of 35,000 equal parts in a macroorganism, a collective force driving Tottenham forward by imploring, demanding, and supporting in equal voice.

It’s an experience I consider myself privileged to be a part of, one that gives newfound vigor to my favorite Tottenham quote, Danny Blanchflower’s speech from the parade celebrating the double-winning side in 1961. As Danny said, “I always thought there was very many people interested in football, and I always thought that football was a very important game. But I never realized, until today, just how important it is.” I don’t think any of us could say it any better ourselves.

Imagine the speech this year.