As the minutes leaked away in east London, the trickle of West Ham fans heading for the exits began to swell and thicken: first dozens, then hundreds and finally thousands. By full time there were white plastic seats as far as the eye could see. Perhaps this will come as no surprise to anyone who has ever found themselves trapped in the infamous London Stadium kettle, where the queues outside Stratford station can last well over an hour and you eventually begin to wonder whether you will ever see your family again.
Still, with West Ham straining every sinew in search of a famous equaliser, it was a strange look. Certainly, you had to wonder at the risk-reward calculus. Cons: potentially missing a defining last-minute goal in your team’s first European semi-final for 46 years. Pros: getting a seat on the Jubilee Line. And as the home side slipped to a disappointing if eminently retrievable defeat, it felt like an appropriate metaphor for a game in which they could just have dared a little more, dreamed a little harder.
