Dire

I felt small, insignificant even as I listen in to the crowds cheering their own team, the team we are going against. I yell my lungs out, the small amount of away fans that visited enemy territory numbered only a few thousands at most. I was ashamed, ashamed as I proudly cheer my dear club that I followed since the day I fell in love with the beautiful game. But it's just too much. It's too much to watch my dear club suffer like this, what in the seven hell have I done to deserve this.

I was emotionless as I watched my team lump on the pitch. So was the few travelling fans that still had the spirit in them to cheer for Le Havre, my treasured club, even though the result is clear. I could even guess the match result without batting an eye as I know just too well what would happen.

I bit my lips. 3 generations. THREEE GENERATIONS of my family proudly cheered for Le Havre, one of the main influences in my family. THREEE GENERATIONS that watched Le Havre lingering in the second division, but I am the lucky one that got to witness the miracle, the promotion that defied all odds.

Yet my hope was all abashed, the reality dawned on us as the inevitability of relegation lingered on the players and us fans. It made me feel ashamed to have come all this way to watch my beloved club suffer like this.

'Move your legs, show you spirit. Fight. FIGHT!' I wished I could yell these out to my heroes that I admired during my lifetime. Yet my voice was deafened by the sheer monstrosity of Geoffroy Stadium. If only our stadium had this much noice. As a 20 year old boy I wished I could do more to cheer for my club to get back on track. ˜

I felt so incredibly worthless, I started to get even angrier. Why isn't my club doing anything to save our situation. Why are they all sitting idly while Le Havre go through this hell? Why are they not doing anything? Why are they not protesting? The only way to keep alive, to fight was the club I had followed since the day I fell in love with this beautiful game. Le Havre, a club that gave me hope when I was lost. Le Havre, a club that kept me going during my exams and the pressure of getting a well paying job. I wish I could do something for my club to keep them from going down the pit, I wish I could join and become one of their most passionate fan. I feel that passion when I watch them, but that passion disappeared as if the times that had passed through us were no more, but an illusion.

'Give me your tears! We need your tears, our club is going down the pit! We need your tears!' A voice from the heavens! " A Le Havre fan beside me mourned as he eyed the abomination on the field.

'I am a Le Havre fan! So I need your tears!' I yelled to the guy standing next to me. I just don't want to be invisible, to watch my club go down the pit without saying a word or rallying against this abomination. It all feels so wrong, I should be there to protect my club, I should be there to protect my blood.

"OH THAT'S PURE CLASS!!! MAGNIFICENT STRIKE FROM THE DIMITRI PAYET!— AS Saint-Étienne takes the lead 1—0 thanks to the sensational Frenchman as he broke the deadlock in the 75th Minute!"

My hopes had been drained. We conceded again. That is yet another goals conceded by the 3rd worse defence in Ligue 1. The reasons are simple: the poor defending, lack of finishing, and the awful performances by our defenders. A slew of youngsters on defense, all born in the 90's. The man they call Nicolas Gillet, everyone in the locker room knows what he's capable of. But this? This is painful. This is torture.

We are better than this. We MUST be better than this. There is no passion. There is no vision. There is no finishing, there is no composure. My club is all but a mere shadow of the football club I had found myself in love with for all these years. Yet it's a heart wrenching feeling to look at a freshly folded Le Havre scarf from my childhood and know that it was there to make me feel something positive about our glorious club. This is not the same place I loved to watch, this is not the same club I would want to support if I could. ˜

I cried out louder, but not in support of my club as I let my feelings be clear. I booed, I yelled, I threw things, I cried. I felt more worthless than ever before. At first it was but a lone man venting his frustrations, but before long, another man joined me in my disgust. I did not know him, but we booed in unison. Another was enraged by the incompetence of the Le Havre squad, and the indifference of the Le Havre FC board. Again, we booed. And it was only then that a young man joined me.

We screamed at the top of our lungs, hurled objects into the air. We pushed and cursed the men who had sold us our club to them. This was anger I had not felt in years, the wrath of my country, the wrath of my team, but it felt good.

I will not back down. This is wrong, this is unjust, this is barbaric. How can we sit back, how can we watch? How can we let this continue?

The Saint-Étienne faithful, they cheered for their team, one of the most historic clubs in France. I smiled to myself at the irony. We were a Le Havre team, I was a Le Havre fan. I cheered as I stormed the pitch to face my tormentors, but my poor vision did not allow me to tell who was who.

The police dragged me off, a scarred and battered face that would not be able to see the glaring light of the television screen as it shined on my sky and navy blue shirt I brought for my 7th birthday.

"AND IT'S A 5 MINUTE DOUBLE FROM THE HOST AS THEY SCORE ANOTHER HOWLER!!! — BAFETIMBI GOMIS SCORES IN THE 80TH MINUTE TO MAKE THE SCORE 2—0. IT'S OVER... LE HAVRE CAN'T COME BACK NOW!"

I tried to console myself by reminding myself that it is not the first time that Le Havre has lost by that score, it's just the first time that the Saint-Étienne supporters made the slightest effort. I can get over this, I can feel like a true fan again. There will be a time for me to pull on my Le Havre shirt. A day for that day to come.

On the subject of chants, it is clear that our most popular chant is now "the club that makes me so sad." I am sad, I have been sad. But tonight I am sad for a reason I could never explain. It is time to leave. There will be many more Le Havre FC supporters, many more willing to do what it takes to return my club to the beautiful stadium it once was. I am sad that I will not be one of those supporters, sad that my heart is just not in it anymore, but I feel good knowing that other Le Havre fans will not suffer the same loss as I have.

Le Havre has been a part of my life for 20 years, but now it is time to say goodbye.

-

At the private seating area located in the Saint-Étienne Stadium, away from the rowdy crowds and in their a space of their own, located at the highest point of the stadium where the field were in full view of those in this room. In front of the floor to ceiling window sat many people, though unlike the crowds, they were unusual, different to the fans as they have an air of mystery, an air of superiority about them.

They were all dressed in suits, ties, nice dresses, you name them. It is clear they have a different status to the common. They were no less than two dozens in the private room, yet it was clear there were some that had a higher status, two people that had higher status than the rest.

An old man cheered vividly as he watched Gomis score the second goal, which killed the game completely as a 2–0 lead would comfortably secure the result much needed for Saint-Étienne. Points were hard to come for the green club, that they found themselves near the relegation spots.

The old man was relieved, thankful that his club secured the 3 points. Afterall, he wouldn't want his own club to get relegated, would he?

Yet as the old man recognised his improper attitude, given he was celebrating wildly right in front of the middle aged man beside him, he coughed a few times as he sat back down, yet he couldn't hide his smug.

"Apologies, Mr Perrault." The old man voiced as he eyed the gentleman beside himself. In that instant, a glimpse of pity emitted in the old man's heart as he questioned how the club owner would feel knowing his boyhood club was falling into the abyss.

You must understand, to secure a miraculous promotion under those circumstances are.... abnormal. A club that is deprived of any wealth, A club that spends all its treasures on youth, a club that managed to gain promotion with a team of kids and unwanted old men as players. It was a miracle above all else, yet it seemed Le Havre would sent back down to earth, back down the echelon of football, back down the footballing pyramid in France.