I was born at West Middlesex Hospital in Isleworth, equidistant between Twickenham rugby ground and Griffin Park, the home of Brentford FC. For the life of me, I chose the latter as my sporting temple.
Like many people born into white suburbia, it was the place where I was born, but it was never my culture. So it is utterly weird that 51 years later I still support Brentford FC, especially because of their perennial fails and preternatural inability to EVER win a Big Game.
If Albert Camus thought that Sisyphus was happy rolling that rock up to the crest of a mountain before it fell down again, then he should have been a Brentford fan. Jesus, forget Greek mythology, Sispyhus had it easy.
I used to sell programmes at the ground, I’ve been to away matches at Workington, Torquay, Scunthorpe, Barnsley, Macclesfield as part of that mission to visit-all-92-clubs-in-the-League, I’ve even had the odd glamorous journey to Anfield and Maine Road… all defeats of course.
But we never win Big Games, I think it’s five successive games at Wembley/Millennial Stadium and all defeats, we needed to beat Reading in the last game at Griffin Park to go up the Championship 15 or so years ago, they equalised with seven minutes to go.
I could go back. In 1939 we were the top team in London, fifth in Division One with a decade of power ahead of us. Yep, Second World War intervened.
We won the Wartime FA Cup in 1940 and it’s the only time that a captain has lifted the Cup to show to the fans and dropped it. That FA Cup win is not even recognised because War meant weird teams made of players who played wherever they were stationed.
So, after this amazing 2013 season, four minutes from knocking Chelsea out of the FA Cup in our first match with them for 63 years and extraordinary comeback wins all season, it was like New Brentford in the way that New Labour used to be a good thing.
Last Saturday it was time to finally push that rock over the edge and for Sisyphus to cavort on the mountain top. Brentford v Doncaster, winner takes all, 2nd v 3rd, promotion to the Championship, biggest crowd for 20 years.
All square for 93 minutes, then the Greek tragedy; a penalty to Brentford, a penalty to Brentford, a penalty to Brentford, three minutes into injury time, probably the last kick of the game.
I was driving the car, I wasn’t at the game, I’ve seen Brentford play eight times home and away over the past three years and we haven’t scored a goal, of course I wasn’t at the game. My heart was beating like 2013 hammers and I pulled over, head on the steering wheel, just score the fucking penalty.
The rest, as they say, is football history. Two Brentford players argued about who was going to take the penalty, a player on loan from Fulham (yes, arch-rivals Fulham, I’m sure he was a sleeper, implanted in the squad like the Manchurian Candidate) grabbed the ball, hit the underside of the bar, the ball was booted clear and Doncaster scored up the other end. It took about eight seconds and meant Doncaster were Champions and we were ‘consigned’ to the play-offs.
Take that, Sisyphus, you bastard. So, I have no pleasure in this pain, no S&M satisfaction (that’s another story) as this continuing fail and soap opera and I know it is utterly stupid to cry over a football result, however it has happened. I KNOW THAT.
But the pursuit and the dream remains. I fly to Lagos tomorrow and apart from speaking at a conference there and meeting interesting start-ups, my main mission will be to find a dirty bar and watch the second leg of the Brentford v Swindon play-off match; the winners will go to Wembley and I know that the Nigerians (probably bloody Chelsea fans) in that bar will remember Brentford FC.
It’s a sickness, an illness, an existential paralysis, it’s Freudian something, I don’t know. But whatever it is, I’m still happy (like Sisyphus) that when I was born, I looked east to Griffin Park and not west to the Twickenham rugby stadium.
And for the record, we don’t have a pub on each corner of the ground, one of them shut down years ago.
Come on, you beautiful Bees!
Monty Munford has more than 15 years' experience in mobile, digital media, web and journalism. He is the founder of Mob76, a company that helps tech companies raise money and exit. He speaks regularly at global media events with a focus on Africa, writes a weekly column for The Telegraph, is a regular contributor to The Economist, Wired, Mashable and speaks regularly on the BBC World Service.
