THE PERFECT GAME
A FIELD RECORDING
Saturday 29th October 2022, 2.40pm. Approaching the bridge car park, I have a feeling that this will be a good one. The planets are aligned; De Zerbi’s version of the Brighton football-as-art project are winless and The Snakes are making their first return to the Amex. The pain of so many broken attachments is still raw. And we, little Brighton, are supposed to know our place. We’re supposed to roll out the red carpet in gratitude for all Potter has done and we’re supposed to roll over on the pitch. Well, the Amex is our place, and Chelsea can fuck off.
“You mean we can’t speak?” My wife Tara’s first words a few seconds into our walk past BACA towards the station steps. That’ll have to go in the edit. There’s no fancy equipment, just an iPhone with a built-in mic and lots of questions. What happens to the continuity if someone calls me during the game? Will anyone listen to this anyway? How do I hold the phone and take a piss at half time, and should I really be recording that?
And so it comes to pass, from end to end. Two hours and twenty minutes of perfection. Not perfection in soundscaping, but perfection in football. Four one to the Albion. We are reminded just what this sport, this city and this club means to us. And The Snakes are left in no doubt too.
Without images and commentary, this piece is about how it felt. You can hear it in the steady build up of tension on the walk to the concourse, the long climb to the West Upper, the queues for a hasty pint, the hostile welcome for The Snakes, the early goals, the disbelief at what we are witnessing, the relief of the half time piss, the nerves after a Chelsea goal, the growing belief that this is our day, the final explosion of joy and mocking that justice has been served, the hope for the new De Zerbi dawn, the slow comedown from the heights of the stands and the gradual dissipation of adrenaline into a deep sense of satisfaction that will last a lifetime.