My parents were full-time officers with The Salvation Army, meaning our lives were nomadic – moving from town to town and arriving in Hartlepool in the late 1980s. I moved to London not long afterwards, often feeling homesick.
Thus it was, living in Camberwell, SE5, that I took myself off one Saturday (9th January 1993), to Leyton Orient, to watch Pools grind out a 0-0 bore draw. The match was dire, but I was at least able to establish some kind of link with the town I missed.
What helped that day, encouraging my journey as an adopted Poolie, was the fact that Brian Honour turned round and waved to me when I called his name from the terraces.
That might sound trivial, but it strikes me that the likelihood of such a thing happening in the Premier League is unlikely – there being an ever-widening disconnect between players and fans, the higher up the leagues one goes.
For me, that wave highlighted the connection between local players and fans at lower-league level. That bond is important, not to be taken for granted.
Hartlepool United is “The town’s club” and, for all its failings, football remains the people’s game. I still appreciate that kind of rapport between players and supporters who cough up decent money to support HUFC – and that gesture of Brian Honour’s spoke volumes. Long may such fan-based interactions continue. They matter.
