Never let anyone tell you football is just a game. You only had to step outside your door in Ipswich over the last few days to see that.
The Tractor Boys are going up to the Premier League and the feelgood factor is through the roof, both across my adopted hometown and across the generations. It’s been a long time coming and while it’s not my team, it’s fantastic to see it means so much to so many.
Twenty-two years have passed since Town were in the top flight and the flood of positivity which has swept through most of Suffolk lately has been tangible.
There was a growing and unavoidable buzz about the place in recent weeks as it became clear Kieran McKenna’s team had a great chance of breaking the monopoly of freshly relegated clubs, aided by parachute payments, going straight back up.
Leicester took the title but Leeds and Southampton finished behind as Ipswich made it two promotions on the bounce and McKenna joined the likes of Sir Alf Ramsey, Sir Bobby Robson and George Burley as a Portman Road managerial great.
The anticipation before the season finale dominated every conversation and interaction with neighbours, the postie, at the supermarket checkout, the pub.
Flags appeared in windows, club shirts of all vintages were worn (‘That’s John Wark era’, I tell my baffled daughter).
The day of the final game and everyone seems to be watching – in the flesh, in the pub or at home – or listening.
Just a draw against doomed Huddersfield will be enough, even if Leeds beat Saints. So often for teams of all shapes and sizes, things can be tense in this sort of situation but this time there’s no nailbiting, nerve-fraying finale as McKenna’s men wrapped things up with aplomb.
Wes Burns and Omari Hutchinson sealed a dominant 2-0 win, Leeds lost and Ipswich finished in the second automatic promotion slot with clear water to the teams below.
That sparked a huge party as football fever swept the town and at least one pub was reported to have run out of beer on a bumper day for local boozers – where customers included plenty from the club itself.
My Ipswich born-and-bred niece Evie and nephew George, who was not even alive during the club’s last stint in the promised land, were among the thousands in the thick of the promotion party.
George said the morning after the night before: ‘Having taken tons of stick for supporting Town rather than one of the big clubs it is amazing to get into the Premier League. Then we got to celebrate with the owners and players in the local pubs… what a night!’
And that’s one of the beauties of football – when a club is at the heart of the community, that the guys who sparked the party in the first place are in touch with the fanbase enough to join them for it.
With local boys like Harry Clarke on board, this team really connects with their fans.
This is undoubtedly true of other places and clubs – it’s not isolated – with Ipswich this week simply a microcosm of all that’s good about football, with all the best bits distilled into lifting the whole town.
With life divisive and difficult enough, a unifying force like this should be cherished.
‘It’s amazing seeing so much joy,’ said McKenna at the club’s open-top bus parade.
Mayor of Ipswich Lynne Mortimer said: ‘Ipswich is probably the happiest town in England right now and I think I am the happiest mayor.’
And that’s the crux of the matter. At its best, football really is more than just a game – it’sabout community, unity and happiness. And it matters.
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