Jeez, he really lost the plot with you there
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Yes!!! I knew that one would work
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It’s almost like you willed it into being
Lordy
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By god
The shapeless face on him. He wouldn’t be known for his defined cheekbones
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Anyone able to throw this up?
If people-watching is your thing, if you want to see a cross-section of the country that’s probably more accurate than a cafe in London or a town square in Halifax or a country park in Staffordshire, a motorway service station is a pretty good place to be.
No, this isn’t the introduction of a ‘Why I Joined The Athletic’ piece by Alan Partridge. Although that would be, in the words of the great man, lovely stuff.
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All human life is here. In this case, ‘here’ is Watford Gap services, on the M1 — confusingly, nowhere near Vicarage Road but (very) roughly in the middle of the country in Northamptonshire — on a Saturday morning in February.
Coaches, cars and minibuses spill hundreds of people into these bleak, harshly-lit roadside gatherings of mediocre food outlets, arcade games and toilets that have seen some awful, awful things. This particular one achieves a unique form of elevated claustrophobia through a combination of being about 10 feet above ground level but having low ceilings.
Spending a whole day here might suggest someone has problems at home or is too easily suggestible when an editor presents the idea. Is it better or worse that the truth, in the case of your fearless correspondent, is the latter? It’s debatable.
But if you want to encounter as wide a selection of the population as possible, you could do much worse than a service station. So, here we are.
There are a couple of parents desperately trying to prevent their giddy children from sprinting into the path of a Transit van. There’s a beautifully dressed three-generation family clearly heading to a wedding — so perfectly decked out that it’s hard to believe they’ve just been on the M1. There’s a group of lads in a minibus, possibly on their way to a stag do, at least four cans deep at just after noon. There are a couple of goths goose-stepping through the car park. There’s a bloke parking a battered van so askew that it somehow straddles three spaces.
And among all of that are football fans. Lots of them. Manchester United fans. Queens Park Rangers. Arsenal. Stoke. Sunderland. West Ham United. Brentford. Northampton Town. Notts County. Everton. There are others.
Watford Gap services, where The Athletic’s Nick Miller spent a Saturday afternoon in the name of investigative journalism (Photo: The Athletic)
These are the people that make football in the UK an event. It’s worth remembering every now and then that the culture of away fans travelling to watch their team isn’t universal, and in many countries isn’t really a thing. That’s not necessarily because English fans are somehow morally superior or have doughtier constitutions than your average European, but broadly because England is much smaller than France or Spain, so it’s much easier to get around.
Nicole is the duty manager on this particular Saturday and she’s bracing herself for the influx of football fans that come every weekend. Sometimes it’s all relatively civilised, sometimes it very much isn’t — such as the weekend last season when the travel schedules of Chelsea and Manchester City fans aligned. Hundreds of them (literally) piled in. It doesn’t sound pleasant.
“On the way up it’s Costa, on the way back it’s McDonald’s,” she says, reflecting the differing states of consciousness of those travelling to and returning from games.
Early in the day, there’s an innocent hope in the eyes of those travelling. Before the whistle blows, everyone is an optimist to one extent or another — otherwise, they wouldn’t be here. They might not necessarily expect their team to win but… you never know.
This is, arguably, the best time to be a football fan. Most of us support a team that isn’t very successful. So it’s during these hours — when the game is close enough to be real but before the brutal cold bucket of reality hits us in the face — when anything feels possible.
Form, logic and facts can be weighed up and processed. You can come to the conclusion that if your team has only won once away all season (and that was in August), well, in all likelihood that run isn’t going to be broken against a team with more money than God.
But there’s a car full of West Ham fans (their side’s points on the road this season before Saturday: five) on their way up to Newcastle; men and women travelling despite all sense telling them they could have spent their Saturday doing literally anything else.
It will be a miracle if they’re home before midnight (when chances are their team is going to get unceremoniously horsed), but they’re going anyway. They’re ultimately rewarded by a doughty 1-1 draw and will reach their beds satisfied, if not elated.
Declan Rice salutes the West Ham fans after their 1-1 draw away to Newcastle (Photo: Ian MacNicol/Getty Images)
The Sunderland fans on their way to London for their game against Millwall — a week after a 560-mile round trip to Fulham in the FA Cup — have a little more to back up their optimism. These are heady days for them, on the up in the second tier; those seasons in League One and a years-long Wembley curse are now a receding memory. A few hours later, they will also be back on the M1 with a point in their back pockets.
Nihal is an Aston Villa fan from just outside Luton and he’s heading up to Villa Park with no concept of the rollercoaster that will await him. “Three points today, easy,” he says. “It’s Leicester!”. Later, as I note Villa had scored twice by the 32nd minute but still ended up behind at half-time and eventually lost 4-2, I regret not getting Nihal’s contact details so I could offer him a soothing head massage.
I spot a Brentford fan wearing a “Canos 7” shirt and, having double-checked the fixture list, I ask where he has come from as they’re playing Southampton at home. “Leeds,” says Hugo. “I’ve got a season ticket. I spend a lot of time on motorways.”
Another check of the fixture list is required as a chap in a Notts County shirt dashes to his car at around 11.45am. The National League promotion hopefuls who are slugging it out with Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney’s Wrexham are away to Torquay United, which Google Maps suggests is still at least a three-and-a-half-hour drive away. If you’re out there, man in grey Peugeot, did you make it? A 480-mile round trip for a match in the fifth tier says it all about how the pyramid in England continues to thrive — and it is worth it as Notts County return home with a 2-1 win.
There’s a lull in activity in the mid-afternoon while the games are being played. But a few hours later, return journeys are made and you see the other side of a Saturday. Innocence has been lost; that wide-eyed optimism has been dashed on the cruel rocks or completely justified.
Drink may have been taken, and when that’s combined with tiredness and emotion, inhibitions are often removed. “It’s when they start dancing on the tables, that’s when it gets interesting,” says Nicole.
There are no Coyote Ugly tribute acts this time, but a group of thoroughly-miserable Liverpool fans (hopefully not trying to get back to Liverpool or else they can add ‘being horribly lost’ to ‘our team is suddenly abysmal’ to their list of woes) try to console themselves with a big stack of Big Macs.
On the other end of the scale, a Wycombe Wanderers fan, fresh from a thumping 3-0 win over Port Vale in League One, positively skips up to the counter at Costa. If you’re driving home, you have to limit your celebratory beverage to a flat white.
But by the time you reach the humble service station, the journey has allowed for a period of reflection: to take the edge off the raw emotion at the final whistle. Gav, an Arsenal fan on his way back from defeat at Everton, shrugs. “Sean Dyche, innit. We’ll still win the league.”
A young girl, probably about nine, wearing a “Saka 7” shirt, is another who seeks solace in a Maccies. But that’s a rarity these days, kid. Your dad has seen some grim times — he probably won’t need to buy many more Happy Meals this season.
It’s dark outside now and The Athletic has been here since just after 10am. You would think that would bring an overpowering sense of gloom, inspire existential questions and some frank reassessments about how life is panning out.
But watching and talking to these people on their way up and down the country has been life-affirming in many ways. It’s an immediate reminder that, while there may be many things wrong with football in 2023, fan culture isn’t one of them.
The enthusiasm for giving up a precious weekend day, travelling the length of the country to experience football in its most vital, visceral form is still alive and well.
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Footix scouring the Internet for expected points totals now in an attempt to appear hipster
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Man City have ruined this fellas life.
This guy 
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“the press”
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Deary me….
Seething
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Would peak footix be an Irish person joining an English “firm”?
