One piece of brilliant football writing a day, every day

Subscribe to MUNDIAL

Fans

This is the best noise in football

It means they’ve scored, and yet you can’t help but admire the sound they make…

This is the best noise in football

Images:

Getty Images

You know it before they do. You can see it from your seat. It’s in. For fuck’s sake, it’s in. They haven’t realised over there … yet. Some won’t realise until the celebrating players enter the third of the pitch you can actually see from the away end at Selhurst Park. The ball hits the net. You look to the other side of the stadium, and the switch has been flicked. The pandemonium has begun. Visually, at least. But there’s a moment. A millisecond of silence. A slight delay. The roar is lagging behind the limbs. Then it hits you. The noise of the away fans celebrating a goal. You should hate it … but it might be the best noise in football. 

There is something unique about the sound of away fans celebrating a goal from across the stadium. It’s not polluted by the shouts of the bloke behind you who thinks he’s the manager. You can’t hear the solos of the fans in the surrounding rows, each cheering in their own key and to their tune. It’s almost choral: 3,000 fans in complete unison, singing from the same hymn sheet. 

Let me take you back to the infamous 2020/21 season—the ‘COVID’ season. As we finally began to revert to normality in May, Premier League stadiums were (semi) reopened for each team’s final home game of the season. 6,500 supporters were at Selhurst Park for Roy Hodgson’s final game (allegedly) as manager of Palace: at home to Arsenal. There were no away fans. Palace made one change that day: Eberechi Eze dropped out for James Tomkins. What a way to welcome us back into the ground.

With the game level at 1–1, Gabriel Martinelli bundled in a 91st-minute winner for Arsenal. I was there, in the Holmesdale. Bugger. Here we go. I winced, waiting for the away fan fist to punch me in the face. But it never came. I half-opened one eye, confused. It was utterly silent, with the exception of the faint cheers of players and staff. It was a unique moment, something that I have and may never experience again. I hated it.

Now, some of you might be reading this questioning my integrity as a ‘proper’ footy fan. Enjoying the opposition celebrating? Insert a Sean Dyche ‘Woke Nonsense’ meme here. But the relationship between home and away fans is complicated. It’s romantic. On the surface, yes, repeatedly swearing, offering out fights and attempting to launch one’s body over a steward because your team has just given away another free kick might not seem like the perfect love story. Deep down, though, we’re yin and yang. We need each other. 

You should hate it … but it might be the best noise in football

Matthew has sat next to the away end at Arsenal since 2016 and, like many ‘Away Enders’, has an appreciation of away fans far stronger than that of your average supporter.

“As much as you hate to lose games, sometimes you can’t help but admire the sheer carnage happening next to you, like Watkins' goal last year (his delicate chip over Raya secured a 0–2 win for Villa, ultimately ending Arsenal’s title bid).

“In an ever-growing list of grounds that are shoving fans to the side to get rid of an atmosphere, it’s brilliant to have such a vibrant and bouncing away end.”

His experience sat a steward’s width away from the enemy is one thing. Being sat on the other side of the stadium is quite another.

Nigel Burton is an acoustic consultant—he helps buildings and environments optimise their noise and acoustics—and a self-proclaimed armchair Spurs fan. When one of his brother’s season tickets is up for grabs, he sits in the South Stand at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, at the other end of the ground to the away end. 

“Modern stadia consider acoustics; they want a nice, enveloping environment so the sound of the fans all around the ground contributes to the atmosphere. They keep this in mind when designing the seats, the Tannoys, everything.

“If Spurs score, not only am I up and shouting—I’m also enveloped by three and a half sides of other people shouting and cheering. If, and more likely when, the opponent scores, three and a half sides of the ground go completely silent. 5%, maybe 10% of the stadium, are making all of the noise.”

The instinctive reaction when the away team scores is to be silent, at least for a few seconds … before shouting some choice words at the opposition ‘keeper, who is celebrating a little too enthusiastically in front of you. 

“It’s like a minute’s silence being broken by a smaller, but very vocal, amount of people. It feels weird because you wouldn’t think you’d be able to hear them as clearly as you can. But it’s the fact that it’s so quiet in the home end, that’s why it sounds so different”, explains Nigel.


I once sat in the West Stand at Stamford Bridge in my girlfriend’s uncle’s seat behind enemy lines. I painfully stood to my feet, forcing my hands into a reluctant clap as Christian Pulisic celebrated Chelsea’s second against Palace. The Chelsea ‘fans’ around me barely even managed this level of effort - I was sat in a particularly touristy part of the ground. 

The Matthew Harding had been giving Wilf(ried) Zaha pelters all game, and I’d had to sit there tolerating it through gritted teeth. I concurred with the fan next to me as tears streamed down my face. Haha! Yeah, he’s such a MOANER, isn’t he?!

But, deep down, I was happy to let them have this one. Because two and a half years earlier, the shoe was on the other foot. I’d watched the Palace fans lose their minds at Stamford Bridge from inside Chelsea territory. Going into the home end as an undercover away fan has the lowest floor and arguably the highest ceiling of any football stadium experience. 

Chelsea v Crystal Palace, April 2017. The home side were cruising to the title under Antonio Conte. Palace and Big Sam were in a relegation fight. We needed a miracle, and fast. Eighteen-year-old Ollie was invited to watch the game from the comfort of the hospitality suite with his dad. He had a friend’s birthday party that evening and, resigned to a heavy defeat, thought that it would be better if Palace weren’t the only ones getting battered at the Bridge that afternoon.

Finally, I wasn’t dreading that noise. I was craving it

Fàbregas gave Chelsea the lead inside five minutes, and as far as I was concerned, the game was up. But, four minutes later, Wilf equalised. My dad and I, conscious that manners maketh man, allowed ourselves nothing more than a flinch and a brief moment of eye contact. Instead, we spent the next 90 seconds gazing at the away end as the Palace fans let off flares, smoke bombs and started their rendition of “We Love You”.

When you’re in amongst it, you’re never quite sure just how loud you’re being. So to sit on the other side of the ground as the Palace-end pandemonium dominated the soundscape of West London was vindication. For years, I’d convinced myself that we’d never been drowned out at any ground in the country. I was right all along. Of course I was.

Before they even got to “woah woah woaaaaaah”, Benteke was through and had chipped the ball over Thibaut Courtois. It’s in. Oh my God, it’s in. They haven’t realised over there … yet. The ball hits the net. Finally, I wasn’t dreading that noise. I was craving it. There was a moment, a millisecond of silence, a slight delay. The roar was lagging behind the limbs. Then it hit me. The noise of the away fans celebrating a goal. It is the best noise in football.

For the next 90 minutes (there was a lot of added time), I gawked at the away end. The tension between us had finally been broken. I had nothing to hide. I had confessed my love to the cluster in the corner and, for the first time in my life, they had reciprocated. I was finally able to truly appreciate the beauty of it. 

Palace won that day and beat Arsenal and Liverpool in the following games to secure survival. The party that evening felt like more of an afters following the high (and seven or so pints of Asahi) that I’d had that afternoon. 

Fast forward to August 2024. 20 minutes to go. Bowen cuts in on his left and scores. Dagger. 0–2. I look over at the West Ham fans in the corner. Oh, fuck off. But I can’t stop watching. I want to hate them. I do hate them! But the Away End fling of April 2017 still burns. Shit. What. A. Noise. The noise of the away fans celebrating.