Chapter 930 - 930: The Irons

West Ham had scored 6 in their last 2 matches and they started like it. Felipe Anderson ran at Aaron inside 30 seconds. Declan Rice took the ball off Eze in the 4th minute and again in the 9th, and after the 2nd he stood over him and held a hand out to pull him up.

"COME ON YOU IRONS! COME ON YOU IRONS!"

14 minutes. Zaha took a pass from Chilwell on the left with Pablo Zabaleta in front of him. He went outside. Zabaleta went with him. He stopped and went again, and the 2nd time Zabaleta was a yard short. Zaha hit it across Fabianski into the far side of the net.

Thump.

0-1.

He ran to the technical area, straight past me, and pointed at Rebecca with both hands. Rebecca looked at her watch.

Manuel Pellegrini stood at the front of his technical area in a long dark coat with his hands behind his back and watched Zaha run past. At half time he sent Andy Carroll on for Lucas Pérez.

They stopped passing through us and started hitting Carroll's head from the halfway line.

Tonk.

Carroll over Dann, down to Snodgrass, 20 yards out, and he bent it round Pope into the corner.

1-1. 48 minutes.

The noise came across that track like a wave coming up a beach, late, and then all at once.

"COME ON YOU IRONS!"

"JAMES! He is yours! SCOTT, drop behind him!"

On 62 they did it again from a free kick on halfway. Carroll went up with Tarkowski and won it anyway, and Javier Hernández was on the knock down a yard out.

2-1.

Tarkowski stayed on his knees in the 6 yard box and hit the grass with the flat of his hand.

The bubbles started up again. I stood in them and did the sum. City were at Chelsea at half 5. If this stayed as it was and they won, it was 7.

Bray had come down the bench to me.

"Carroll. Put Mamadou on him. He fronts a big man better than anybody we have."

"Who comes off?"

"James."

"Then I am 2-1 down with a centre half on for a forward. The wings first."

"He will win the next 1 as well, Danny."

"Then he wins it." I turned round. "Sarah."

"Snodgrass has not crossed halfway since he scored. He is a 2nd right back. Wilf has 2 on him every time he gets it."

"Marcus."

Marcus leaned forward from the row behind with the tablet. "Masuaku. His average position this half is 8 yards inside our half. Felipe Anderson is not tracking anybody."

I walked to the line.

"WILF! JAMES!" I crossed my arms over my head. "Swap! James, do not stay on that touchline. Come inside, every time, and take the 2 of them with you. BEN!" Chilwell turned round. "The outside is yours. Go!"

"If it breaks down, Snodgrass has the whole of that side," Sarah said.

"Then Mateo runs."

4 minutes later it broke down. Rodríguez came inside and Rice took it off him, and Noble hit it into the space without looking, and Robert Snodgrass had 40 yards of grass in front of him and Ben Chilwell behind him going the wrong way. I heard Sarah breathe in.

Kovačić went. He came 50 yards across the pitch at an angle with his head down, and he slid, and he took the ball and the man off the grass and onto the cover over the track.

"That is 1," Sarah said.

"SAME AGAIN, JAMES! SAME AGAIN!"

71 minutes. Rodríguez walked in off the left with the ball, and Snodgrass and Zabaleta both walked in with him. Chilwell went past all 3 on the outside at a sprint and crossed it first time, flat, beyond Balbuena and beyond Diop.

Zaha arrived behind Masuaku at the far post and volleyed it into the ground and up into the roof of the net.

Whump.

2-2.

From the far corner, across the track, a second late:

"WILF! WILF! WILF!"

This time he grabbed the ball out of the net, threw it to Benteke and waved them all back.

"AGAIN!" I was 3 yards onto the pitch. The 4th official had a hand on my arm. "AGAIN! THEY ARE GONE! AGAIN!"

79 minutes. Eze took it from Neves 30 yards from goal, facing his own half, with Declan Rice against his shoulder blades. He gave it first time into Benteke's feet and spun, and Rice went with the ball. Benteke put it back round the corner with the outside of his boot.

Eze was through. Fabianski came out. Eze waited for him to go down, and lifted it over him.

It took a long time to come down. I watched it all the way.

2-3.

"WE ARE PALACE! WE ARE PALACE! WE ARE PALACE!"

Bray had me round the neck. Michael Steele was 10 yards down the touchline on his knees. Eze stayed where he was and let them all come to him, and they came from everywhere, Pope from his own box, the whole bench across the grass.

Rice was on his haunches on the 18 yard line. Before the restart Eze went over and put a hand on the top of his head.

Pellegrini took Mark Noble off and sent Michail Antonio on. He walked right up to the white line and stayed there, with 3 forwards on the pitch and his arms folded.

Bray still had hold of my coat.

"Now?"

"Now."

Mamadou Sakho was stripped beside me a minute later.

"Carroll," I said. "Stand in front of him, every ball. Nothing else. Scott and James take what comes off you."

"Devant," Sakho said. "OK."

Rodríguez came off. Sakho ran straight to Andy Carroll and stood on his toes.

The next long ball never reached him. Sakho went up in front and headed it 40 yards, and Carroll put both hands in his back, and the referee gave us the free kick. Sakho won the 2nd as well. On the 3rd Carroll backed into him and they both went down, and Sakho was up first.

Højbjerg went on for Eze. Antonio hit 1 from the edge of the box that Pope held at his chest. In the 94th minute a corner came all the way through to Hernández at the far post, and he put it into the side netting, and every West Ham supporter behind that goal had both hands on his head.

Fweeeeeeeeeet.

West Ham United 2, Crystal Palace 3.

Zaha lay down flat on his back in the centre circle. Neves sat down next to him. Tarkowski walked the length of the pitch to Sakho and put his forehead against Sakho's forehead, and neither of them said anything.

Pellegrini was still out at the white line when I went down the tunnel.

Zaha stopped in front of Rebecca on the way in.

"30 on Wednesday," he said. "Today I could play 2 matches."

"Tell me that on Sunday morning," she said, "when I have your numbers."

The coach was back at Beckenham by half 6. Ron stopped my car at the barrier on the way out and held a cream envelope flat against the window, with 1 finger under his own name.

"With a W," he said. "Tell her I will wear a tie."

Emma's mother opened the door to me in her apron.

"He is in the front room and he will not be moved. Shoes."

Her father was in his chair with the bad leg up on a stool and the stick against the fire surround. Emma was on the sofa with her feet under her. On the television Chelsea were 1-0 up on Manchester City, 70 minutes gone.

"Sit there," he said. "No, there. You are in my light. Kanté, on half time."

"Dad," Emma said.

"This is my front room."

Her mother put a plate of sausage rolls on my knee straight from the oven. I bit into 1 and burnt the roof of my mouth and ate it anyway. I had not had anything since a banana at 1 o'clock.

"Carroll," her father said, without taking his eyes off the screen. "The man on the radio said he won everything. Who did you put on him?"

"Sakho. At 80."

"And the 35 minutes before that?"

"I was told at 62. I was late."

He grunted, and reached over for a sausage roll off my plate.

"On Wednesday I shouted at you for an hour. Row 31. You will not have heard."

"What did you shout?"

"Zaha."

"He came on at 60."

"I know when he came on. I stopped shouting."

In the 78th minute Chelsea had a corner, and David Luiz headed it in.

Her father put the end of his stick on the carpet, twice.

Tok. Tok.

Nobody in that room spoke for the last 12 minutes. Emma had her hand over her mouth. Her mother stood in the doorway with a tea towel and did not go back to the kitchen.

I had half a sausage roll going cold in my fingers. We were going to City in a fortnight. I thought about that and made myself stop. I watched City take a throw-in. I thought about it again.

Chelsea 2, Manchester City 0.

They put the table up over the pictures of the City players walking off. Manchester City, 45. Under them, Crystal Palace, 44.

I put the plate down on the carpet. My hand would not hold it level.

Emma took her own hand away from her mouth.

"I have an opinion," she said.

"17 days," I said.

"I can count."

Her father turned the sound down and looked at me properly for the first time since I had come in.

"Wednesday," he said. "Do not sit on it."

"We are not going to sit on it."

"Good." He leaned over to the fire surround, slowly, and took a ticket down from behind the clock. "That seat is not sitting empty against Borussia Dortmund."

He held it out.

"Who do I give it to?"

"Somebody who shouts," he said.

CRYSTAL PALACE v BORUSSIA DORTMUND. WEDNESDAY 12 DECEMBER 2018. KICK-OFF 8PM. BLOCK 103. ROW 31.

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