Trans-Atlantic Football Fans

By now it should be clear that I am a dedicated fan of football from both sides of the pond. As mentioned earlier, I was raised in England in the southeast and spent much of my childhood growing up in and around Ipswich, and later in a smaller town, Bishop’s Stortford which is about 30 miles or so northeast of London. Having moved to the US in 1990, I have lived in a few states including Oregon, Utah, Arizona, and now Washington.

With football embedded in my DNA my first trip to Portman Road at the age of 4 began my lifelong devotion to Ipswich Town Football Club. I’m not sure what I did in a previous life to deserve that, but I suppose it could be worse. By the the age of 9 I was a fully enlisted “Junior Blue” and received a signed picture (well one of several hundred thousand cheap copies probably) of Ipswich legend, Paul Mariner shortly after our FA Cup triumph over Arsenal in 1978. I don’t recall what happened to the cheap merchandise that came with being a Junior Blue but I remember each week believing my letter from the club must be on its way telling me I’d been selected to lead the team out at the next home game. 35 years later, the letter still hasn’t shown up and I’m not sure they would let an almost 40 something bloke lead the Tractorboys into battle – they’d have to get me out the bar first and it might be a bit embarrassing to have to set me pint down before leading the boys to battle. Still it might provide a bit more entertainment than some of the recent offerings from Portman Road!

So, moving on with blue blood running through the veins, I ended up in Oregon desperately seeking some sports, football of any kind from some source, I didn’t care…desperate times...call for...Anyway it was early September of ’88 or ’89. A strange game was starting on the TV – they called it “football” and it was Monday night, so apparently this was a big event. Anyway, I settled in to watch a load of big blokes in some kind of body armor run into each other, fall down, and chuck a rugby ball around for 3 hours or so….I was hooked! The game was a divisional match between the NY Giants and Washington Redskins – I have no idea who won or who was playing on each team but I had discovered some strange hybrid kind of football that wasn’t really football but very addictive. Oregon was the location. Many (but not all) die-hard fans of the English game are chosen by geography – it’s not a choice, it’s a dedication, a lifelong duty to the cause. Closest team to Oregon…Seattle – they play in blue…..done deal.

The Trans-Atlantic football combination for me was complete and it’s been a Tractor driving, 12th Man fanatic rollercoaster for 20 years now. With probably a million or so Brits living in the US there must be someone representing just about every possible UK-US football pairing that is just as nuts as me. I was good friends with a few English lads in Tucson, Arizona and in our small circle we boasted Ipswich–Seattle, Ipswich-Arizona, Everton-Dallas, and Manchester United-Arizona affiliations. One thing we all had in common though was the Three Lions, and England matches often culminated in all-day drinking affairs beginning with the 10 am (Arizona time) kick-off through to the midnight darts tournament, where we were all so pissed no-one could even keep score, let alone hit the board!!

Fun days, and Cheers to Luke, Mark, and Richard that made up that circle. We had some laughs and I hope you’re all doing well. It was bloody amazing to run into a fellow Tractorboy in the desert but after leaving Arizona, I’m pretty sure I left Luke as the sole keeper of the key to the blue tractor in Tucson.

I’d love to hear some stories from people with similar backgrounds and read about some of the highs and lows that come with supporting football teams on both shores of the big blue pond. I’ll visit this again sometime when this blog thing has had a chance to take-off. Until then, if you want to share your stories on this topic you know what to do below….Cheers!!