I've had many loves in my life, a lot of which have involved very painful farewells, but never one like this.
My personal love affair with the Irons and the Boleyn began way back in 1962 at a match involving the Hammers and Blackpool. I was there on the orders of the editor of the newspaper I was to work for. During my interview for my first job in London he told me: “You will need to come to Upton Park tonight. I think you may fall in love.”
I'd not been much of a supporter of anyone until then because playing the game had taken up all of my time, but I'm grateful to that man whose name – amazingly – was Tony Cottee. His namesake, the future West Ham great, was to be born three years later.
This Cottee was right. From the moment I disembarked from the tube at Plaistow, took in the sights and sounds of Queen's Market and Green Street, my soul was lost to the west enclosure of Upton Park – a ground where all my best footballing experiences have been played out, with the exception of Wembley on that glorious summer’s day in 1966.
There was, of course, no better time to be a Hammer at this fabulously unique and romantic stadium. It was the start of a golden era that would see us win the FA Cup in 1963-64 and the old Cup Winners' Cup against TSV 1860 Munchen of West Germany the following year. 1966 looked after itself as the world discovered it took three Hammers to win a World Cup!
The stats can tell you much, but what they can never manage to do is to reach deep into your soul as you recall a blonde-haired colossus called Bobby ‘Mooro’ Moore – with whom I was fortunate to work later in my life – leading the team from that Boleyn tunnel. He was a mere three years older than myself but he stole my footballing soul and I felt like a kid in the presence of a giant every time I saw the great man.
That west enclosure – a place written deep in my heart – was also the viewing point as I watched the likes of Hurst, Peters, John 'Budgie' Byrne, actually the best centre forward I've ever seen, John Bond – who became one of the game's greatest extrovert managers – Ken Brown, goalkeepers Jim Standen and Phil Parkes – now a friend – and all the rest. I feel like a teenager again as I recall them all.
Later came the amazing legend that was the buccaneering Bill Bonds, now somebody I regularly interview, as well as Trevor Brooking, Alan Devonshire – perhaps the best I've ever seen as he waltzed his way across some mudbath pitches – Julian Dicks, Cottee, Paolo Di Canio and Frank MacAvennie. The Boleyn was the cradle of all my dreams and holds my most beautiful memories.
The season of 1985-86 saw Upton Park erupt in near glory, although a dismal start saw the Hammers win just once from our first five games and gave promise only of a regular flirtation with those around us at the bottom.
But Malcolm MacDonald, or ‘SuperMac’, grabbed a couple in the defeat of QPR and, as September arrived, everything changed and we were off on what was to become the team's best ever season.
They lost only eight games from that point and finished third behind the two Liverpool clubs. Of course, there's an irony to the expression 'The Boys of '86' – heard so regularly around the club - because it's an implicit recognition of how little we have won down the years. It doesn't matter. West Ham is a lifestyle, not a winning routine.
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But for me the star of the show – the heart of the experience that is supporting West Ham – was the 'old lady' herself. It is, though, very unlikely that Lady Boleyn ever set foot anywhere near the castle that adorned our badge for so many years.
Once through those antiquated turnstiles another reality took over in a stadium that was at the heart of this East End community. It was the epicentre for those living in the area and part of the growing-up process for those of us who came from further afield.
When you returned it mattered not if you were a millionaire or on the dole – you were simply a Boleyn boy. We all grew up this dear 'old lady' we love so much and that she will be gone forever after Tuesday is just desperate.
I once wrote that you change your wife before you change your football club but saying farewell to Upton Park feels worse than a divorce. It resembles more sitting at the deathbed of a family member knowing there's no way back.
Yes, we will move on, yes we will create a new Olympic Park history because that's what we do at West Ham. Just not before a tear or 10,000 have been shed.
Hugh Southon is the founding editor of ClaretandHugh and a lifelong West Ham fan.
- Goal