It had been a long time coming, and it did not disappoint.
Just before Norwich kicked off their first game of the Premier League season at Carrow Road, the prompt came over the tannoy; it was time for the congregated faithful to start the oldest chant in football.
Arms were raised, heads held high and loins were girded. This was the moment we had been anticipating ever since the turnstiles were shut back in March 2020.
I was stood on the back row of the Lower Barclay, for the first time since that win over Leicester, and raised my scarf of yellow and green above my head. I closed my eyes and as loud as I could muster, belted out “Kick it off!”.
In that moment all the anxiety and worries I had been carrying inside were expelled into the August evening air. A year and a half of stress about work and money, friends and family, mental and physical health; all that pent up energy was concentrated into the words as I sung with every fibre of my being.
I felt my eyes mist up at the noise of more than twenty thousand Norwich City fans in unison, when we reached the chorus of “On The Ball City!”. Yet no tears were shed. It was a moment of elation and defiance. The pandemic may not be over, but we had survived this far and we had made it back to our collective second home.
Earlier, as I stood waiting for kick off, I found myself staring as I looked around. It was strange to be amongst so many people after months of social distancing, and yet the familiarity meant it felt like we’d never been away. The sights, sounds and smells of matchday were almost overwhelming after spending so much time within my own four walls, but I was determined to soak it all in.
The joy with which we greeted people we had not seen since our enforced absence was a genuine delight. You may not know their name, or know anything about their lives away from Carrow Road, but to recognise so many happy faces after long periods of isolation felt like a family reunion.
Ahead of the game I had been nervous about the risks involved in attending the match. Local infection rates have been rising, and although I am fully vaccinated, that doesn’t prevent me from catching the virus. It’s a decision many fans have been debating, and each will have come to their own conclusion. It must have been tough on those who couldn’t make it on Saturday evening, whatever their reason.
During the day the normal pre-match tension was heightened by the collective anxiety and anticipation of the first capacity crowd for over 500 days. Groups gathered in pubs and cafes, travelled in on buses and trains, team colours worn on the market and down the lanes - the whole city seemed to buzz with electricity, nearly 18 months after it had fallen silent. Walking down to the ground with friends, I felt my heart beat quicker, chatting nervously as the stadium began to loom large.
The game itself may have been disappointing, but for many reasons it’s unlikely to be indicative of the season ahead.
Yet, supporting a team isn’t just about winning or losing. We had a season of success which we watched from our sofas and bedrooms. It provided entertainment and hope during dark times, but we were distant and apart.
The overriding factor we should take from this weekend’s match is that feeling of unity we expressed, back together at last and as one voice cheering on the Canaries.
A diverse community of fans feeding off each other’s excitement, and focussed on one goal. Immersed in the crowd, lost in the drama, you escape the outside world and let go of the tensions of everyday life. And it all starts with that oldest of football songs, and the words “Kick it off!”
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