The other perspective: experiencing football as an away fan

By Alice Wright

On what should’ve been a day where Chelsea’s two late goals should be what sticks in your mind instead, I’m left reminiscing about Leicester’s away end and the pure magic of the FA Cup. 

The journey started as I reluctantly peeled my eyes open at 7am. It didn’t last long. I went straight back to sleep until 7:30am. This time I was successful. I met my dad downstairs, and we swiftly left North-West Leicestershire at 8am. 

The car ride to Canons Park Tube Station was standard with a bit of road rage here and there, but nothing spectacular. There were little specks of blue shirts amongst the crowd waiting on the platform. Everyone crammed onto the tube and we were packed in like sardines in a tin. I’m not sure what was going on for it to be that busy. On a Sunday. At 10am. 

The journey on the tube towards Stamford Bridge was again standard. The small flecks of Leicester shirts began to fade against a sea of Chelsea blue the closer we got to Fulham Broadway. We were outnumbered. 

Once going through security checkpoints – I somehow forgot my age. I’m only 20. But for some reason had to stop and think ‘oh gosh how old am I?’ This happens every time. I get caught off guard for such a question. 

We found a spot to eat our M&S meal deal. The cold and wet concrete floor below a map of the stadium outside the Shed End. I perched on a cold broken up brick as I tucked into my boring but tasty cheese and ham sandwich and despite my dad telling me it would be wet, I sat there anyway. I probably should’ve listened because it was wet, but I needed to sit down. My 20-year-old body is more like an 80-year-old than I realised. 

We sat outside for half an hour eating and people-watching. We even managed to see Joe Wicks and Serge from Kasabian. I couldn’t care for Joe Wicks but Serge that was different. 

“Away fans here” bellowed a jolly Chelsea steward dressed head to toe in black with an orange jacket placed over the top. We must’ve heard him shout this over 100 times. 

We filed through the turnstiles and climbed the stairs to the upper-tier concourse. It was surprisingly narrow. Ahead of the game, I met up with a couple of friends we discussed the team news and headed to our seats. As we climbed the stairs to the back row, I passed a Panini Women’s Super League sticker stuck to the concrete floor from the Chelsea Women’s match against Arsenal on the Friday night 2 days prior. This is significant because I have an unhealthy obsession with the collection and this sticker of Arsenal forward Caitlin Foord was of course one I didn’t have. At that point, it felt like I was being taunted. 

With the atmosphere building inside the away end and a banner from Union FS criticising the £40 price of tickers for the game it was almost time. Liquidator rang out through the tannoy as the teams came out of the tunnel. This was it. The ultimate test. Could Leicester compete with an established Premier League side?

In the 26th minute Chelsea were awarded a penalty. Raheem Sterling snatched the ball from Cole Palmer, and I knew Stolarcyk would make the save. I’m not making that up I genuinely called the penalty save. 

Mavidid’s goal was spectacular but the limbs in the away end were on another level. I screamed when it went in, mostly out of pure shock. I then turned to the guy next to me. I had never met him before. But we were screaming ‘come on’ to each other and all jumping around on the back row. We were all in euphoria and disbelief about what we were witnessing. It looked like Leicester might actually have a chance. 

City had rattled Chelsea and despite the red card and subsequent late goals they could be proud of the performance they left on the pitch. 

The Foxes didn’t progress to the next round, but they gave it a good go and showed a level of determination that left every Leicester fan beaming with pride. 

After saying goodbye and debriefing the game with our newfound friends we made our way back home. It was hell. After zipping up our coats to hide our Leicester shirts we headed for Fulham Broadway tube station. The joke was on us because they decided to shut it down due to faulty signals and were told to head towards Earls Court as it was only a 10-minute walk. They lied. After a tiresome 20-minute walk we made it to a packed station and shuffled through with everyone else. It was a pretty hot day regardless of being stuck in a busy tube station and I conceded to unzipping my coat. My dad got chatting to a Chelsea fan whose phone had died and gave him directions to Victoria Station as if we were locals. 

After 2 hours we finally made it back to Canons Park. By this time, it was 5pm the game had finished at 3pm. I shared half a brie and bacon sandwich with my dad, and we swiftly made our way down the M1. 

We got home at 6:45pm and an exciting away was almost overshadowed by the catastrophe that is British Transport. Either way it wouldn’t stop us going to future away games.