1882: An account of Thursday night

I waited outside the turnstiles last night and I was scared. I wasn't scared of the fans, the police, the stewards - no, none of that. I was scared that I'd be alone. If I were alone, I could never have enjoyed the night, and if I didn't enjoy the night, my journey would have been wasted.

Thankfully, I was not alone. I had 1882.

We entered the ground after some odd delay. My out-of-place black tie and crombie combination received some funny looks and comments, however I managed to convince myself that that's how they all used to look 'back in the day'. I entered Block 35 some 10 minutes before the start, and, staring at the pristine green of the White Hart Lane pitch, the troubles of my daily life filtered away.

Perhaps it had something to do with my age, but occupying White Hart Lane is still a cause for many feelings of joy. I'm a proud cynic in real life, yet when I pass through the turnstiles, joy and positivity enriches my blood and tones my voice. This is why I feel the urge to align myself with 1882 ideology; there is no other way I can support my team.

It wasn't long before Block 35 began to fill. I couldn't tell you how many people came under the banner of 1882. We were just fans standing in a block, holding scarves and waving banners and flags; singing for the shirt. And, oh boy did we sing.

From the first song, I could tell this would be as fulfilling as I hoped it would be. Long, never-ending versions of 'Oh When The Spurs' till the point of laughter. Infectious renditions of 'AVB's Blue and White Army' (of course, followed by the fierce bellows of 'Yids'). Toing-and-throwing with the Shelf and 'Stand up' songs to engage with other parts of the ground. All the old songs like 'Glory Glory Hallelujah' and 'Hark Now Hear' as a reminder of our past. Judas songs. I could go on and on and on but you know the deal. This is 1882.

I saw at a few points throughout the evening fans being forcibly removed from the block for chanting our Yid songs. This made my blood boil. It could have easily tainted the event. However, the fans responded by chanting the word twice as loud. We got behind those victimised fans. They are us and we are all the same. 'Being a Yid' was the song of the night as a result.

I screamed at the stewards, "I'm a Yid! Arrest me!" This was part of a lot of talk between me, the stewards and the police last night. They were cooperative, but they seemed confused. When asked who told them to victimise the fans, I got told they were ordered from the club, the police, lawyers and the FA - all separately. When asked about over-zealous stewarding, they referred to safety certificates and guidelines. When asked if they knew who their boss was, they had no idea. Sadly, there's nobody to make accountable for the crime of criminalisation.

This is why groups like 1882 are vital to the fans. Who is going to back the fans given 'verbal warnings' when the club turned their back on them like they did on Thursday? This may sound cliché, but sometimes, we only have each other to turn to. We had that at the Anzhi game and I was proud of us for that. I implore fans to keep a dialogue with our Supporters' Trust, THST, for these reasons.

More about the game. It was very entertaining and the positive performance certainly helped get some of the fans off their feet. When we sang the name of particular players, you could tell they were loving it. The big smile in Holtby's face. The appreciation from Eriksen when he warmed up. Even Friedel's response to our questions about the score. At those very moments we sang their names, the fans loved them, and they loved the fans. Backing the players in this way help establishes this connection, I feel. Don't you agree?

The final whistle came and we headed out of the Lane, albeit slow, reluctantly and anxious to do more. I wanted to do this all over again. And soon. An explosion was heard at one point late on. None of us cared. I never felt a better sense of escapism than in that block on Thursday. I've had a lot of trouble and stress in my life recently, but it didn't matter when I was singing, when I was loving my club.

My lungs were aching. My throat was scratched. My head was addled. My voice was gone. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered any more. All that mattered was that I belonged. All that mattered was Tottenham Hotspur.

If you think I'm exaggerating, join us in Block 35. I dare you. 

Change (Revive The Lane)

I rarely go to the lane, but when I do, I feel the same excitement every time. Walking up to the ground, pictures of the players lining the streets, the hooky merchandise shops, watching the hundreds of fellow fans walk by me, or simply seeing the cockerel on every piece of clothing – home. But, more than anything, it's the White Hart Lane itself that stirs my emotions. I look upon that beautiful green grass as if it were my home, where I truly belong, where I'll always belong. That will never change.

I recall the last time I went to White Hart Lane. Basel at home, 4^th April 2013. There was an air of expectation going around the ground. I thought we would outclass them, I won't lie. After all, we had just beaten Lyon and Inter Milan, and romantically I thought this would be our year for European glory. The game itself was poor, with most of the chances going to Basel, but I'm not going to dissect the game. It's the fans that stood out from that game.

It was just so flat. I heard a lot of talk about silence at the lane, a lack of atmosphere, but you can never get a grip of how silent it is till you go. The few songs that were song that night were quiet and were very distant from where I was sitting. I tried to join in but only a whisper came out. Even our supposed anthem 'Oh when the Spurs' was sung very lightly. When they scored, I could only hear the Swiss in the away stand, leaving us staring blankly at the pitch – that silence could've lasted a lifetime. For 95% of my experience, all I could hear was the murmuring of fans. Let me share with you a few inspiring quotes:

'Gallas is shit, why doesn't he just retire?'

'Adebayor is fucking useless. AVB is a mug if he can't see that.'

'That Icelandic, what's his name, useless (said just before he scored the equaliser).'

'Why are we even the Europa League? Pointless competition.'

'I pay (x-amount of money) a year for this.'

As a young fan going to the Lane, this is about as depressing as it gets. What's worse is, these people calls themselves fans. Supporters who don't support and just complain can't be supporters at all, just pricks. It was a nauseous atmosphere, toxic and contagious. This has been the attitude for the last few years now. Now it's time for change.

Why should people pay literally hundreds to watch Spurs, turn up and be greeted with such a negative atmosphere? How is it fair on the young fans going to the Lane for the first time? Do they not deserve the right to hear the roar of the Lane? Consider these questions when considering to join this movement.

Revive The Lane is a plethora of ideas new and old, but mostly it's about change. It's about converting the sickening silence and the leering judgement of the present into songs, chants, happiness, an expression of love for the game. It's about going to football matches and escaping the rottenness of reality. Past the turnstiles, our lives didn't matter any more: it was all about the beautiful game. It's about letting the glory and the shite unfold, not like a theatrical production, but like we're part of it as well, like we have a hand in the glory and in the shite. It's about realising that our support does influence the players. Think about Fulham and how little we did to get the players going! Revive The Lane is about putting the 'support' back in supporter.

But it's more than that. It's about thousands of us coming together and uniting for the common cause. Since the conception of the Premier League, fans have increasingly become a commodity, customers that come and go and are always replaceable. Clubs don't look to fans for guidance till they're deep in the mire (look at Portsmouth, look at the Plymouth). It's time for that to change. We must become a mass again. Lowering ticket prices, safe-standing and bringing back the drum can only happen if we unite, say 'YES' and say 'NO' to the club. Revive the Lane is about bringing us together.

I implore you all to join us. These ideas have been furiously discussed on The Fighting Cock Podcast (@LoveTheShirt), formulating in the 1882 movement who want to bring the escapism of going to football matches back to the Lane. I implore you to become involved in 1882 events (such as the Espanyol pre-season game at the Lane on the 10^th August). The Tottenham Hotspur Supporters Trust (@THSTOfficial) are the only legitimate voice of fans inside the club, so it's vital that you become involved with them.

If you truly want change, make your voices heard in more than one way. Stand. Sing. Support. Your club needs you.