The “Farewell Boleyn” Auction Offers West Ham Fans Unique Opportunity to Buy Total Shite

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports UK.

I must admit, I have no particular affection for Upton Park. My first and only trip to the spiritual home of West Ham United coincided with the last ever game at the ground, and the place was basically like a warzone where the only armaments available were tinnies. I headed home with the smell of horse shit, lager and fried onions in my nostrils, and was more than a little relieved when I finally got clear of the Barking Road. My memories of Upton Park are of weary policemen, half-hearted fighting and lots of smashed glass. I do not recall the place fondly, all told.

For some people, however, Upton Park is a magical place. For some, it is the receptacle in which all their happiest memories are held. For some, it is the home of Trevor Brooking, and Bobby Moore, and Marlon Harewood, and all the other men who helped to define the West Ham Way. Indeed, some people love Upton Park so much that they are currently spending their hard-earned cash on buying assorted souvenirs from the dismantled stadium. Their love for Upton Park is so pure, so profound that – as we speak – they are spending anything between a tenner and several hundred quid on literal, actual rubbish salvaged from the wreckage of its derelict remains.

In case you aren't aware, West Ham are holding an online auction at the moment with the aim of selling off the remnants of the old ground. The "Farewell Boleyn" auction includes such priceless memorabilia as player medals, match pennants and a picture of the Queen hanging out with a young Jermain Defoe. It also includes such useless tat as random handrails, a broken-looking folding access ramp and an obsolete Newham licensing certificate which could be yours for the modest price of £130. The useless tat far outweighs the priceless memorabilia but, nonetheless, almost all of it seems to have been bid for.

I can understand why fans might want the odd memento of Upton Park. Something meaningful to hand on to the grandkids, like a framed picture of Carlton Cole or a massive wall plaque showing Glenn Roeder at a training session circa 2003. However, there is absolutely no need to shell out £50 on a laminated locker room door. Imagine the disappointment on your wife's face when you bring home a full-sized locker room door. Imagine sitting in your one-bedroom flat, staring at the locker room door you've purchased, climbing over it every time you want to go for a piss, losing your deposit because you've ended up wedging it into the fucking ceiling.

That blue locker room door will lean idly against a wall in your flat, slowly judging you forevermore. There it is, gradually coming to represent all the bad decisions you've made in your life. There it is, inexorably poisoning your relationships. You can't eat, you can't sleep, not with that bloody door watching you. You bought that locker room door because you wanted a keepsake from Upton Park, and instead you've ended up with an existential weight around your neck. Your life has become some sort of bleak postmodern novella, and it's all down to that godforsaken locker room door.

The same goes for buying seats from the home dugout, or giant stainless steel wall panels with the West Ham badge on them, or man-sized mobile physio treatment tables, all of which are very much available for purchase. This is the sort of needless clutter which will ruin your living space, and leave you living a life of regret. Nobody wants to pass through a filthy souvenir turnstile every time they want to get into the kitchen, nor wrestle with Slaven Bilic's old tactics board every time they want to find some clean socks. There is no disloyalty in refusing to buy a sizeable piece of detritus from Upton Park, even if the idea of purchasing the post-match advertising boards for £400 is initially quite tempting.

The cruel reality is that, in the end, all of this stuff will end up in the shed. Having splashed the cash on these massive souvenirs, West Ham fans will end up dumping them down the bottom of the garden, the whole process a sort of sad non-tribute to their home ground of 112 years. When a fiftysomething Hammer goes to get the lawnmower and finds a seven-foot directory board in the way, he'll shake his head in silent anguish. When he has to battle his way past a life-sized cardboard cut out of Mark Noble just to get to his toolbox, he'll let out a mournful sigh. When he accidentally spills Polyfilla on his framed portrait of Nigel Quashie, he'll slump under the weight of it all.

Upton Park will have been reduced to a collection of inconvenient relics, gathering dust under a pile of paint pots, trowels and rusty old rakes. If only you hadn't bought 386 commemorative plates with Kieron Dyer's face on. If only you hadn't bought that wretched locker room door.

@W_F_Magee

Please enjoy some more tat from the "Farewell Boleyn" auction, right here:

All images via the West Ham auction.