Everyone’s favourite underdog
A Lutonian Abroad writes about his experience of following the Hatters from overseas. As far as he knows, he is only one of two Luton fans living in Hungary’s capital
I have followed Luton Town’s unlikely rise to the Premier League quite closely, courtesy of the English Football League’s live iFollow service. That ended this season with Luton now battling the giants and only watchable through expensive subscription services like Sky, Amazon Prime and the like. I am ’forced’ to visit sports bars or similar in the city to watch those games that are broadcast live. There have been more than I expected and It’s been an interesting experience. As we are just past the half-way point of the season, I review the Hatter’s impact amongst a wider viewing public.
It all started on a sultry evening late in August when Luton, squad purchase value( PV) of £24.75 million were away to Chelsea, squad purchase value of £1.03 billion. It was the second match of the new season. I was relieved that Doyles Bar provided a screen in the pedestrianised street outside. It would have been stuffy indoors on a crowded Friday night. I was surprised to discover a relieving draught coming up from a long grate in the pavement below my feet. I wondered if it was from a metro ventilation shaft deep underneath the city centre. Whatever the cause it was a welcome blast of cool air. Tourists from all over the footballing world drank copiously in the warm evening and watched the mighty Hatters. A Hungarian guy next to me, János, only drank coke while smoking continuously. Luckily the breeze from the vent seemed to push the fumes away from my nostrils. He was smartly dressed and an avid Chelsea supporter. At half-time he graciously acknowledged that Luton weren’t as bad as he had expected.
János enjoyed a second coke and told me how much he admired the Premier League. The best league in the world he said and there is also a high quality of life in Britain. Apparently, he worked briefly in London. As for Chelsea, he wasn’t optimistic about the season ahead. Too many expensive new players of dubious quality he insisted, although his own words were more colourful. He stumped out his final cigarette and bade me good bye just before the end when Chelsea were well in control of the match. It turned out János was off to work deputising for a friend in an all-night bar in the party district. He said it would get very busy after two in the morning, when the other bars closed. Beating Luton was to be expected but not in such a listless manner. I sensed that to him the two clubs were playing one another but still in completely different leagues.
A week later the Hatters played their first ever Premier League home match- against West Ham United- PV £444.90 million. Expectations were high and the temperature had dropped so I watched the game from inside Doyles. It was Roma versus Milan in the central bar area, so Luton were relegated to a perfectly adequate side screen. Three of us followed this game while the rest watched the Italian heavyweights. My companions were Hammer’s fans. Sheila was seventy-seven and really knew her football. Her partner Ben only sixty-three and less enthusiastic about the match. Happier to chat about his sideline as drummer in a rock band for twenty years, than follow every move on the pitch. They had really enjoyed their holiday, Sheila said. Shame she had to start back to work on a night shift at 10 pm on the following Sunday, the day they returned to London.
Stratford born-and- bred, Ben collapsed with a stroke while working in a bar near the Hammer’s old Boleyn ground. He hit a corner of the counter before reaching the floor leaving a dent in his bald pate. Not long after recovering from that he was discovered to have lung cancer. He said all he needs now to complete the hat-trick - is a heart attack. Ben wore a white shirt and gold chain. You could see your face in the shine of his patent leather shoes. He looked like a fish out of water amongst the casual end of summer attire in Budapest.
When Luton had a strong period in the game, he told me they’re the better team. Sheila looked at him in dismay, then with daggers. She suggested David Moyes should make some tactical substitutions to make sure the points are in the bag. Ben starts cheering Luton’s moments of good play and I sensed a domestic incident brewing. He seemed to want to wind his wife up. As the game ends, he slapped me on the shoulder. No problem he said, if Luton carry on playing like that, they’ll definitely survive. I wonder if he’ll survive Sheila’s fierce east London loyalty in the taxi back to their hotel. She didn’t look impressed by her turncoat, toyboy husband. Despite the latter’s positive words about Luton, I see how challenging it is amongst the elite. After all, as Sheila reminded me during the game, West Ham won the Europa Conference League only a few months earlier. We went down 2-1.
It's bonfire night in the UK before my next opportunity to watch Luton. This time the cameras are at Kenilworth Road for the visit of Liverpool- PV £673.65 million. It couldn’t get any bigger for the Hatters faithful and I wish I was there. Instead, I am at Doyles, surrounded by Liverpudlians and Mancunians, a little surprised that there are so many Brits in Budapest at that point in the autumn. Summer’s a fading memory and the Christmas markets don’t begin for a month or so. The lad along the bar from me is a Fleetwood Town supporter and we reminisce about a couple of seasons when the two clubs were strong rivals in the lowest divisions. He’s supporting Luton in this match because he can’t stand Liverpool.
Once my loyalties are known, I am peppered with questions from those who support clubs with twenty-first century stadiums rather than those constructed in 1905. Luton’s crumbling ground has been the subject of worldwide media interest over the early season. Particularly, the Oak Road end which now, mostly accommodates the away supporters and which was built directly behind a row of terraced houses.
Overhearing my discussion with a curious Scouser, one of the bar staff approached me. He was from Europe somewhere.
‘So, you must cross over the gardens to get to your seat:’
‘Yes, something like that.’
‘And you have really been there?’
As though it was the moon.
‘I’ve been going to Kenilworth Road, on and off, since 1969.’
He moved away looking concerned. Either about the fact I have simply visited this footballing shrine or shocked at how long I have been making such a peculiar pilgrimage.
I’m sure I got a bigger drink than I ordered when he served me later. I’ve never known such respect from merely supporting a football team. Normally, if you mention Luton are your club. it’s mockery or abuse. By the end of the game, Mancunians and neutrals in the bar were shouting for Luton. Only a 95th minute Diaz equaliser denied the Hatters a wonderful victory after Tahith Chong put Luton ahead in the 80th minute.
The Liverpudlians came to shake my hand at the end, disappointed at their club’s performance and admitting they were lucky to have got anything out of the match. It was hard not to be impressed by the Hatter’s play. Such results suggested Luton could pull out of the relegation zone.
By early December freezing weather had reached Budapest. I set out on a bitter Tuesday evening walking through a thin coating of snow. The opponents were Arsenal-PV £688.64 million. I watched this match in a large, almost empty sports bar dedicated to Bayern Munich. The owner is a huge fan of the German champions. The lads at the bar had never heard of Luton Town FC but were happy to find the correct TV channel. Half-way through the first half I was joined by a Dubliner called Finbar. He was visiting Budapest for dental treatment and had spent four and a half hours that day in the chair. Five pints of lager had since improved his mood and he was happy to find some football to enjoy.
He told me his life story while we watched another entertaining Luton match. Finbar left his family at sixteen to come to London and became a big punk rock fan while working on building sites during the daytime. It turned out that we lived within a hundred yards of one another in Kilburn for a few years. Possibly our paths crossed but I didn’t remember him. Finbar returned to Dublin eventually and worked at the docks until early retirement.
It was a terrific game but we were the only people left in the bar. Naturally, I was engrossed but Finbar couldn’t relate to the lack of excitement around him. He was used to the intimate atmosphere at Shelbourne Football club founded in 1895, ten years after the Hatters, but was impressed as Luton took the lead against Arsenal. Unfortunately, they couldn’t hang on and conceded an equaliser before £100 million signing, Declan Rice, scored the winner deep in injury time. The 4-3 result offered great entertainment for the neutrals but was hard to take. Finbar wished myself and the club good luck and roared away into the freezing night. Another convert to the Hatter’s cause.
There was more snow to contend with for the final televised match I witnessed in the first half of the season. A sports bar in the party district suggested online that they were showing the Luton v Newcastle (PV £569.15 million) encounter just before Christmas. I wandered through the seventh district in a snow storm which made everything look different. Eventually I found the dismal subterranean premises, only to discover that the management were now holding a private Saturday afternoon party, rather than showing Luton. Returning to the almost white-out conditions, I wandered back towards the tram line, heading for home before remembering that the Kaledonia bar was nearby. It looked closed but there was one light on and one employee waiting for customers in an otherwise empty saloon. The snow had soaked through my less than waterproof coat and I was glad to be simply indoors.
I asked the barman if he could show the match and he was happy to oblige. Within ten minutes two Geordies and an African accountant had joined me. Mukami was from Nairobi and supported Arsenal. He was much impressed by Luton’s recent performance against his team, and was happy to cheer the Hatters on. The Geordies gently mocked Luton but it was soon clear which was the stronger team. Luton recorded an excellent home victory and the well juiced stripey shirts behind me wished Luton well in their battle against relegation. One shouted ‘Up the Hatters’ as I left them to their merry commiserations. After all, it was the season of good will.
In Budapest at least, Luton are seen as huge underdogs. With their never-say-die spirit, they have become everyone’s second favourite team in the premier league. Despite gradually improving to the point where they can give anyone in the top division a battle, they still remain in the relegation zone at the halfway stage of the season. The clubs who came up with Luton, in first and second place are currently the only ones below them in the Premier League. Unlike the Championship where teams can yoyo depending on form, the Premier league is really three leagues based on purchase value. It’s hard to see any team outside of the six or seven wealthiest ever winning the title and it’s almost certain that ’poorer clubs’ will have to fight for survival every season. Those in the middle pray for a sugar daddy to invest heavily so that they might rise above mediocrity or avoid dropping down to battle with the likes of Luton. Despite being the most exciting league in the world and a wonderful export, money talks far too loudly.
Of course, like all football fans I already knew this, but the facts are registering rather loudly with every game. If Luton do survive at this level, it will be an amazing feat and restore some faith in notions of fair and equal play in the Premiership. I was initially opposed to the idea of our best teams deserting the country to perform in the failed European Super League proposal. Right now, I would be quite happy to see any of the top six clear off with their excessive purchasing power and leave the home league to become a little more balanced. And No, with that suggestion I don’t think I’m living in the past. Just looking forward to a better, healthier, footballing future.
Come On You Hatters!
· Figures courtesy of transfermarket.com January 17th 2024
