Nervous, joyous, nervous

If you've never been to Venice, it's difficult to understand just how confusing it is to walk around the floating city. Venezia's narrow streets -- home to pedestrians only -- are mostly straight, actually, but they seem to meet at every angle but the 90 degree ones that a Chicagoan like me is so used to. Walking from our hotel just off St. Mark's Square to Fiddler's Elbow in the Cannaregio section of Venice should have taken about 15 minutes yesterday, but it took me about 45 minutes each way. No bother. It was worth it to walk for 90 minutes to watch Carlos Tévez play for 90 minutes in the 3-1 win over Bolton Wanderers.

Fiddler's Elbow is a corner kick from a main thoroughfare, Strada Nuova. I found it about 3 p.m. -- kickoff was 4 p.m. local time, 3 p.m. in England -- and then went back onto Strada Nuova to grab a bite to eat. I had a slice of pizza and a bottle of water while sitting on a bench in the street, and then I went into Fiddler's Elbow. The Celtic-Rangers game, the great Glasgow derby of the Scottish Premier League, was on the large TV hanging on the front wall. The announcers were speaking Italian. The bar was filled with the sort of Irish kitsch that one would expect from a pub, but I don't recall many specific examples. Fortunately, I took photos. I ordered a Guinness and then walked into the backroom, called The Lookout. The derby of Manchester -- City versus United -- was on the TV in big TV on the back wall in the Lookout. Appropriately for English football, the announcers were speaking English. There were four Man U fans watching. We never did speak, but I was cheering for Man U. With their win and Chelsea's draw Sunday against Arsenal at the Emirates, Man U has clinched the Premiership title -- rendering next Sunday's Man U-West Ham game meaningless for the Red Devils. With Wigan's loss, West Ham can guarantee their safety with a draw, or a Wigan loss or draw against Sheffield United.

I finished the first Guinness just about the time the Manchester derby was finishing, and I walked back to the bar to buy another beer. When I sat back down to watch the preview show -- this was in Italian, as it turned out the West Ham game would be -- it hit me just how huge, or MASSIVE, as they say in England, the game was. I got rather nervous, despite not having anything more challenging to do than walk between my seat and the bar to replenish my beer. I finished the second beer before kickoff -- in other words, in about 10 minutes.

The Man U fans left after their game was over. That was fine with me, as it left me alone in the Lookout and afforded me the chance to take the best seat. I settled in with the third Guinness as the Hammers were coming out to the thunderous applause of their supporters. I had been unaware that Bolton Wanderers manager Sam Allardyce had quit the club till I heard it during the Manchester derby, with the speculation that he wants the job with Manchester City -- a job that is not open at the moment. It seemed to be another good sign for West Ham to me. Bolton had the first few chances of the game, but nothing came of it. I sipped my Guinness and felt my nerves rattle. I rested my chin on hands, and my elbows on the table, and I thought to myself, over and over again, "They've got to score first." Carlos Tévez was tackled on the left edge of the penalty box, and his powerful, curling free kick in the 10th minute slipped in under the crossbar. I screamed with a mix of joy and nervous energy. My loud clapping and yelling had to have seemed strange to the bartender and the handful of patrons out front. No matter. It couldn't be helped. I was completely overcome with the game. At halftime, as I glowed in the 3-0 lead for the Hammers, it struck me how incredible the whole situation was. Six months ago, if you had asked me about English football, I would have said that I root for West Ham because of my friend Phil. I would have quickly added that I rarely, if ever, pay them any attention. Now, here I was, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Venezia, sitting in an Irish pub that I found online for the express purpose of watching the 18th place team in the Premiership play its last home fixture of the season.

Tévez was on the receiving end of some fine play by Mark Noble and Luis Boa Morte for the second goal. Noble's breakout pass freed Boa Morte down the left wing, and then he sharply crossed to Tévez, who had an easy time putting it past the keeper. Again, I roared with sheer delight. Tévez ran around to the goal line and put his hands to his ears as if to say, "I can't hear you!" (Or rather, "¡No puedo oírte!") What had been a 60-40 mix of nervousness and joy after the first goal was now about 70% joy. But when Tévez returned the favor of Noble's pass by finding the young midfielder with a cross, and Noble buried it on the volley, my nerves washed away. I yelled louder than I had the first two times combined. I reflexively stood up and clenched my fists in front of myself as I yelled. It was very cathartic.

A late goal for Bolton dirtied up Robert Green's sheet, but just as they had at Wigan last Saturday, West Ham controlled the game throughout and looked nothing like the dispirited team that I saw play Watford back in February. Oftentimes, I could hear the crowd singing, "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles," and I joined in, although not loud enough for anyone out in the main bar to hear me. I was excited, but still realized that I didn't need to put on a serenade for my indulgent hosts. Once the game was over, I went out to the front bar. I struck up a conversation with Sheffield United fan named Nick. He was fun to chat with. We discussed West Ham's fine and the lack of a points deduction. I said that I knew I was biased, but thought that there was a reasonable basis for the decision. I acknowledged that it could have easily been a lot worse. He, too, acknolwedged his own bias, as Sheffield United are not guaranteed safety yet. It was all amicable, and I enjoyed chatting with him. His club and as many as five others may be contemplating legal action against the FA panel's decision in the case. I supose that is why the nerves are back for me.