Dan had been standing for eight hours by the time Jude Bellingham's winner hit the net. He had lost count of the pints, joking that his bank balance would provide a rough estimate the next morning. To keep his place in the scrum of England fans surrounding the central screen at Box Park Wembley, Dan stood stoically from just after 7pm until the final whistle, hoping to be front and centre for a moment like this.
And what a moment it was. England fans went wild as five goals, one red card, and an England win unfolded. The motley crew that descended on Box Park Wembley certainly got their money's worth.
Pint Throwing: Spontaneous or Choreographed?
There is a prevailing sense that the sort of England fan who goes to Box Park is in some way 'fake.' While these multistorey warehouses turned fan parks were once seen as the zenith of spontaneous celebration, some now turn their noses up. Dan told me: 'People think it's all for social media [and that] it's forced, but these are England fans.' He referred to the pint throwing, which has seemingly gone from a happy reflex to something entirely choreographed.
Yet, when Bellingham put England 2-0 up against Mexico at the Azteca, and fans were greeted by a wall of lukewarm lager, the pull of the pint-throwing void was irresistible. I asked Dan another question, but as he answered, Mexico pulled one back, and we were once again showered by a tidal wave of Staropramen, this time thrown in frustration.
The Box Park Experience: Sweat, Beer, and Camaraderie
Quite where attendees found these beers was a mystery. Either way, fans were wet, nervous, and tired—three feelings Boxparkers know all too well. England vs Mexico at Box Park at 2am attracted the sort of people willing to tell others the next day they watched the match there. It is, in many ways, an objectively rubbish place to watch football. Built inside a black, metal warehouse that would give an El Salvadoran megaprison a sense of character, even at 2am it felt close to 30 degrees in the dense crowd, exacerbated by the unavoidable smell of sweat and beer.
Despite its shortcomings, England fans descended on these halls in their thousands, even in the early hours of Monday morning. I asked a fan, potentially called Paul, what makes Box Park worth it. 'The atmosphere,' he said, 'and that'—pointing to a huge man hoisted on the shoulders of his much smaller friend. Beyond the performative pint launching, there was so much 'and that' on display: teenagers covering each other's eyes during penalties, heartbroken Brazil fans wandering around at 3:40am, and laughter, chanting, singing, hugging, and kissing for eight long hours.
Final Whistle and a Familiar Chant
At 3-2, I found Dan crouching in agony on the floor. He saw me and leaped up, immediately mimicking Jarrel Quansah's mistimed challenge to show why he should never have been sent off ('It's simple physics,' he told me). He had managed to get two more pints just in case—'one if we score, one for full-time.' Neither made it to the end: the first was launched for a well-timed Ezri Konsa block, and the other knocked over in frustration at a throw not being awarded England's way.
When the whistle came, it was met by more pints being launched and a hearty rendition of a favourite chant: 'Don't take me home, please don't take me home, I just don't want to go to work.' I asked Dan if that chant rang true. 'I'm in at 9,' he told me, before disappearing into the fray. Dan deserved this. Box Park deserved this. England deserved this.
