Scenes From West Ham's Chaotic Final Night At Upton Park

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports UK.

As send offs to iconic football grounds go, they don't come much more overblown than West Ham's farewell to Upton Park. Compared to the goodbyes given to Maine Road, Highbury and the rest of the country's fine old stadiums, the light-show-come-firework-party put on by the Hammers was particularly bombastic. There was synchronised pyro, there were taxis full of club legends on the pitch, there was more strobe lighting than you expect to see at the average Tiësto gig.

With much of the fanbase still unconvinced by the move to Stratford's Olympic Park, the club's directors were clearly desperate to pay an overwrought tribute to their spiritual home. There were tributes to Bobby Moore. Tributes to the glory days of the '60s. Tributes to their FA Cup wins, and their Premier League heroics. With all those tributes, it was bound to be a bloody lovely evening.

Except, it wasn't a lovely evening. From the neutral's perspective, West Ham's last night at Upton Park was actually quite horrible.

While the air of corporate party planning within the stadium seemed rather incongruous with Upton Park's traditional frisson of rage, frustration and East End ardour, events outside the stadium defined much of the evening. While the bottle throwing that damaged Manchester United's team bus has dominated the headlines, that was only a minor part of the chaos around the ground. The delay to the game that resulted from the hold up to the team bus was time enough for trouble to erupt on the junction between Green Street and the Barking Road. Outside the Boleyn pub – a gritty, iconic haunt for home supporters – a couple of hundred fans caused pandemonium while faced down by police in full riot gear.

Here's what I witnessed on the night.

With a thin veil of drizzle falling and the pungent smell of horse shit in the air, fans block the street as more and more policemen arrive. The match has been postponed from 19:45 to 20:30, meaning few supporters have dispersed to get to their seats. While some are spraying Carlsberg about and generally enjoying themselves, others are now throwing spent tinnies at the police line. Every couple of minutes or so, a bottle flies out of the crowd and smashes on the tarmac near to a row of mounted officers; this while families and local residents try to weave their way in and out of the crush.

Once the police seem to feel that sufficient reinforcement has arrived, a column of officers heads toward the bottle throwers. The police square expands and pushes people back, while their horses – despite occasionally rearing back at the smashing of glass – advance up the Barking Road. There's general grumbling, much derision and, in some quarters, an air of embarrassment amongst fans around me.

Odd scuffles seem to break out on the other side of the police line, while bystanders watch on. Before too long, any match-going fans have made themselves scarce and the police are engaged in an unpleasant clean-up operation. The game has now kicked off, though perhaps a hundred fans remain on the Barking Road. Some officers film them from behind the police lines, doubtlessly with the aim of making arrests at a later date.

Opposite me, fans clamber on the statue of Bobby Moore to get a better view of the action down the street. One supporter stands on the street railings in an almost Christ-like pose, still holding up a banner that reads "Farewell Boleyn" while surrounded by rubbish and glass shards.

When I skirt the edge of Upton Park to get a better view, I find myself blocked off by yet another line of policemen. I do, however, spot a graffiti scrawl that reads: "Long Live The Boleyn". When two fans have finished pissing on the wall that serves as its canvas, I take a quick photo of the impromptu mural.

This is how many people will remember the last night at Upton Park: an evening of coach smashing, bottle throwing, riot police and squalor. Though West Ham eventually triumphed in a thrilling match against Man United, events outside the stadium will stick in the mind far longer than the choreographed light show within. In some ways, that's perversely fitting.

One fiftysomething fan, standing next to me on the Barking Road, provided some historical perspective: "This is nothing like it was in the '80s. This is fucking child's play!"

@W_F_Magee