Pre-season friendlies usually have a relaxed feel to them – a comfortable way for fans to ease their way into the new season while the sun’s still out, have a look at new signings and enjoy a ‘no pressure’ game where the result doesn’t really matter.
Not this one.
The first time since late March that UK football fans have been allowed back into a Premier League stadium was always going to be a little surreal. With temperature checks, facemasks, socially distanced seating and sanitising stations on the way in, this was one unusual match, where the visiting media were more interested in the fans than the football.
As one of just 2,500 fans taking part in a test run as one of the Government’s trial events to see how a crowd can attend sport safely, I did feel a little like a guinea pig under scrutiny. Strolling to a stadium normally packed with 30,000 fans felt more than a little surreal.
What I didn’t expect was quite how much emotional weight the experience carried. There was something powerful and moving about walking up the steps from Falmer Station in a crowd of other fans, blue and white shirts, badged hats and the odd scarf to the fore.
And as we turned to walk up to the stadium itself, phones came out and pictures were taken. For many, we’d wondered how long it would be before this familiar experience would be ours again.
There is a shared community among followers of a football team – a bond forged often in the white hot fires of raised hopes and inevitable disappointment, and sharpened in the brief and occasional glimpses of glory.
So when the video montage of past joys played on the stadium big screens before kick-off, it was a reminder about what unites us in the joy of sport – those moments of elation, the win that clinches promotion, or survival, or a triumph over your rivals. Those sublime moments when the beautiful game is played with freedom and grace by the team you follow. Stretching back over almost 40 years, I’d been in the crowd at many of the historic matches featured.
I had a lump in my throat for a moment.
And then when the teams came out, the question of whether to sing or not to sing became immaterial. The club’s Sussex by the Sea anthem rang out and everyone sang – for familiarity’s sake, with some local pride, and – if it’s not pushing the point – even on behalf of all the other fans wanting to join their tribe again at the match.
The game itself was an entertaining spectacle for the most part, Chelsea’s expensive new striker Timo Werner marking his debut with a goal as Brighton’s new back line lost concentration and allowed a ball over the top to elude them.
The first half saw the Londoners just about warrant their 1-0 lead, while the second half brought the home side out with more urgency – a missed penalty, a header against the bar and then one minute from time, a second penalty this time converted to secure a 1-1 draw.
Yet, it was the wisecracks from the crowd, the good humoured songs and oohs and has that made me understand a little more what we’d all been missing. Yes, you can watch a match on a screen at home with fake crowd noise and technically you’re being a supporter, but it’s only when you’re there in the flesh, living and breathing the action, feeling in some way part of it, being ‘the 12th man’ (or woman) and connecting with the team and those around you, that you play your part.
Football back to normal? Not yet. But it’s a step on the journey – and a reminder that dealing with the triumphs and tragedies of life together is a key part of what being human is all about.