April 24, 2025

This is what it feels like to be champions, I hear

Something lovely about my trip so far is that every match has been different, each providing a different experience. The match for today ended up being very different.

First, let’s check the count. We’re now at 4 full days, 4 hotels, 5 matches, and 18 trains on 5 different services. 

Now, how did my gambles from the last dispatch go? Well, let’s revisit:

Gamble 1: My second hotel in Manchester would have toiletries

Gamble 2: It will not rain too much on my two-day trip to Manchester

For Gamble 1: My Manchester hotel, a different one from the first visit, had hand soap and a 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel. It was close enough to keep me from being offensively smelly, but there was no lotion and I’d already exhausted my supply of hand lotion, so I spent a couple of days with dry hands. I’ve had worse.

For Gamble 2: The first day, when I saw Man City host Everton, was beautiful. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky, with a bit of a chill. Perfect for my jacket. I woke up the second day to a different situation. It was a solid drizzle throughout the day, and when I looked at the prospect of getting from Manchester Piccadilly station to Manchester Victoria station, the two major rail stations in the city that are inexplicably not directly connected to each other, my resolve weakened. Walk twenty minutes in the rain, take two trams, or grab an uber, that was cheaper than the trams? Well, uber again.

I caught an earlier train to Leeds than I expected, so I wandered around the drizzly city center for a bit, got a truly stunning pour over coffee¹ before catching a taxi to the stadium.

I was in the city to see Leeds United, the leaders of the Championship, take on my dear Stoke City. Here’s the context you need for this one: Leeds needed to beat Stoke, and for Burnley to beat Sheffield United, in order to clinch their place as champions of the league. Meanwhile, Stoke’s win against Sheffield Wednesday basically ensured we would not be relegated, so we had very little to play for except to be spoilers on the day.

It was my first match as an “away supporter” and despite knowing that hooliganism is pretty much dead, and I’d be a poor target anyway, I was nervous about walking through Leeds in my Stoke colors. So I somewhat absurdly shoved my scarf in my fannypack, and zipped my coat to the top to hide my shirt. I’m sure this was unnecessary, and probably embarrassing, but I’ve done more embarrassing things in my life.

When I got to the stadium, the away seats were tucked in a far corner, so far that I was actually behind the only screen in the stadium. But at least it was covered. As with most of my matches, I got there early and found my seat but I ended up not getting any concessions because the concourse was so packed with Stoke fans² that even getting to my seat had been challenging.

Because of the damp chill, the seats filled in closer to kickoff, at which point, a man came to stand basically at my seat, between me and the man in the seat next to me. It was a bit odd, but he spoke to the other man, nothing seemed resolved, and then they both just stood there. I thought it would be a problem when we took our seats at kickoff except in this case, we did not sit down. Everyone stayed standing, and the songs started, while the Leeds supporters on the other side of the stewards sang back at us. 

It was good fun for the first few minutes, and then Leeds scored. Then, two minutes later, the same player for Leeds, Joël Piroe, made the same run and scored again. After that, the Stoke keeper and captain, Viktor Johansson, made several great saves holding Leeds to 2 goals…for about ten minutes. At which point, Piroe made the same run and scored a third time. A hat trick in 20 minutes. Also at this point, the question of seating became a non-issue, because half of the Stoke supporters went into the concourse where they could get a beer and dull the pain. 

One highlight from this phase of the match was watching a kid, probably about 6 years old, attempt to mimic the various lewd hand gestures coming from both sets of fans. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, or what exactly they meant, just that the men around him were also doing it. Never has a wank-off hand gesture been more precious and innocent.

One man behind me was grouching about one particular player, the leftback, and maybe he was right. But it would seem that letting in three goals in the first twenty minutes comes down to more than one player. One thing about football is that, with some exceptions, a goal normally comes from multiple passes and phases of play, a build up by the attacking team, probing for a weak spot, breaking down the defense. That leftback may have been the weakest spot, but he certainly wasn’t the only one.

Somewhat mercifully, six minutes later, someone different from Leeds scored. And then we held firm for about twenty minutes, until Piroe got a fourth goal³ shortly before half time. By then, the Stoke songs had changed. Some highlights include “It’s only 5-nil, how shit must you be, it’s only 5-nil” and “We’re not going down, we’re not going up, we’re Stoke City and we don’t give a fuck”.

At the half, I went to get a tea. The concourse was completely full and the sardonic, self-deprecating songs continued throughout the break. I went back to my seat and found myself with quite a bit more space around my seat for the second half. Mark Robins, the Stoke City manager, made a few adjustments at the half, and to their credit, Stoke only let in one goal the rest of the game…leaving the final score at 6-0 Leeds United. 

I actually had a lot of fun leaving the match, if I’m totally honest. I was one of the last Stoke supporters to filter out, and Leeds fans were having a great time with a little good-natured ribbing. Nothing that at any point felt mean, no need after the six-nil beating. I had multiple fans stop me to shake my hand and praise me for sticking it out, one even sounded sincere. When I chatted with one group waiting for the taxis back to the city center, they spotted my accent and were beside themselves that I’d come from the States to watch Stoke City get pummeled. When the next taxi showed up, a surprisingly nice Lexus, they insisted I take it. “You deserve something nice after that,” they teased.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m from Cleveland. This type of sporting failure is in my bones. I remember the 0-16 “Imperfect Season” by the Browns, and the years when they couldn’t give away tickets to see the baseball team. This was a fun twist on it, getting to experience sporting failure in another country!

The Burnley-Sheffield United match wasn’t until a little later, so I had time to get back to the city center before the celebrations really broke loose. Burnley would win, Leeds would clinch their position as the league winners, and the streets around the stadium would be absolutely choked with fans celebrating their incredible success this season, with the icing on top of a massive home win on the day, courtesy of my team forgetting to show up to the first half of the match.