Sky Blue in America
Why? Why do I do it?
I'm not American, but I may as well be. I've lived in the United States since I was thirteen (I'm now 32), I'm married to an American, and I'm fortunate enough to have two great kids who are both American. Yet, for a variety of reasons I can't let go of my British passport. I support England passionately and will live and die with Stevie G, Lamps, the Roonatic, and so on at the World Cup next month. I pull for the European team with every drive and putt during the Ryder Cup. I still think that Usain Bolt may be the fastest man alive, but in his prime, Linford Christie could have edged him. Which is all fine. I have deep roots in England and I can't ignore my heritage.
But why do I keep on supporting Coventry City? I don't know a single other Coventry fan in the United States, which is not to say I don't know any football fans. I've met Liverpool, Fulham, ManU, Arsenal, and other "big club" fans along the way and I understand why they support who they support. Americans, in my mind, who came to support Fulham during the Bocanegra/ Dempsey/ Keller days are an easy to understand group. They had something to identify with in the personnel as well as it being easy for Americans to travel to London in order to see the team during a vacation pilgrimage to Craven Cottage. There are many that have made such a trip.
It always takes a somewhat lengthy explanation though, to explain why I stick with Coventry. I lived near there, but Villa were the hometown club. Nobody else in the family is a Coventry supporter. I didn't support them because they won the F.A. Cup…I was just shy of my ninth birthday when that happened and I'd already been to a number of games and wore the shirt, shorts, and socks with pride. My first game at Highfield Road was a dismal affair. We were thrashed by West Ham, it was cold, damp, and there wasn't much of an atmosphere. But maybe that day in 1987 explains why I haven't been able to let my fandom ebb away.
My Dad had tried hard to get tickets to the final, but that all came to naught. So, we were left in the living room with my sisters and Mom off elsewhere. I can tell you almost 23 years later almost exactly what happened during the game, but you probably already know. For brevity's sake I'll just cite the Houchen goal. When Keith left his feet and put the ball in the back of the net, my Dad and I jumped off the sofa screaming in celebration. He picked me up, put me on his back, and jumped around the room in delight. He's not an emotional man. He rarely cries, rarely laughs heartily, and I've never heard him start a sentence with "I feel…" unless he's talking about having the flu. Yet, for that one moment, he became somebody different. He's a Sheffield United supporter, but supported Coventry for that one day because I did. That's all that really matters.
Coventry weren't supposed to win that day. But they did. Holding onto wonderful memories like that helps explain why you keep supporting a club like Coventry from 5,000 miles away. To hold on to that living and dying with every game is to both remember the past and act in faith. I'm a man of faith, but that doesn't mean anything except that I believe that the improbable happens sometimes. Life isn't always predictable and faith means that the unexpected comes to pass from time to time. So, if I can believe that, then I can still believe that Coventry can become a competitive club in the top flight again. But more than that, for any of us living far removed from our teams, to continue to follow from a distance is a wonderful expression of faith in the great memories of the past as well as our hopes for the future. To support Coventry from a distance reminds me of how great life can be—unpredictable. I'll always see eye to eye with a Grimsby, Norwich, or Hartlepool fan for that reason.
Because you never know when a Keith Houchen or a Dave Bennett or an outstretched patella will result in a father jumping up and down for joy with a young boy on his back.