Comment: Rediscovering the joy of supporting Norwich City

For a while, I have been thinking that it was football itself that I was feeling a bit apathetic towards. As if all of the wonder and excitement that it brought me when I was a child had left me. But it has dawned on me that it’s actually just my own club that’s getting me down.  

I’ve been enjoying watching the Premier League, for instance. The title race between oil-rich Manchester City and overachieving Arsenal, Newcastle United’s charge towards the Champions League, the European ambitions of Brighton and Brentford, the relegation battle that seems to involve half of the division – it has been great. 

I reckon one of the reasons I’ve been enjoying the top-flight so much is because Norwich haven’t been in there, stinking the place out.  

Instead, we have been involved in an attempt to finish sixth in the Championship. And even that looks beyond us. There’s not been much to get excited about. A fairly average squad, with its best players mostly past their prime, labouring through game after game. 

Inconsistent isn’t the word. After getting such a good result at Blackburn on Friday, a lot of that hard work was undone by a goalless draw with Rotherham. After dominating this league on the last two occasions we had been in it, it has been a huge disappointment. But I guess these things are cyclical and that our time will come again. 

In an attempt to rediscover my love for the Canaries, I have been thinking back over my whole journey as a fan. I was quite a late developer in terms of sport, preferring to watch cartoons rather than football for the first decade or so of my life.  

I come from a family of Norwich fans. My mum used to stand in the Barclay before it was redeveloped and my dad went to every home game at Carrow Road.  

If I was ever to catch the football bug, there would only be one club I could possibly support. I recall taking an interest in City’s run to the play-off final in Cardiff in 2002. My dad was there, mum and I watched on TV. When Birmingham won on penalties, I was devastated, sobbing on my bed. From that point on, I was obsessed. 

City supporters make themselves heard from the stands against Rotherham on Easter Monday (Image: Focus Images)

The first match I went to was a 2-0 defeat in the East Anglian Derby – enough to put anyone off! But only a year later Norwich were champions of Division One and heading to the top table for the first time in a decade.  

It was a really exciting time for an 11-year-old. The big teams coming to the city seemed such a novelty then. Beating Manchester United, who had a young Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney on the pitch, and the win against Newcastle that featured Youssef Safri’s thunderous strike from way out are memories that have endured. 

I have written before about my dear old dad, who sat next to me in the Barclay for five years before he lost his battle with Alzheimer’s disease. Since he died, I’ve found going to Carrow Road quite a lonely experience. I like the view from my seat and, combined with sentiment, I have no wish to move from it. But an introvert like me has never had a conversation with the people who sit around me. Conversations are often held over me, but I am never involved. I miss having someone to talk about the game with. 

The kid that was moved to tears by play-off final defeat is still in me. So is the one who held up Adam Drury as a hero. As is the one who would look at an upcoming Carrow Road fixture as a pleasure, not a chore. I just hope Norwich City can help me bring him to the surface again soon.