The Anti-Conference Guide to Real Connections

// Introduction

I know, I know - There’s something about stepping into someone else’s territory that sharpens your senses. The noise is louder. The eyes are on you. And you’re outnumbered, always.

But I like that.

I like being an away fan. I like standing in the small corner of a stadium where the few fight the many. Where the songs are louder because they have to be. Where you’re bonded not by convenience, but by conviction - and my god, this weekend at Portsmouth vs Blackburn, I needed conviction.

It’s not about football, really. It’s about how I see the world.

I’ve never been drawn to the easy win. I’m not built for the big crowd, the corporate box, or the polished stadium tour. I find energy in resistance. In being the underdog. In showing up where you're not supposed to win - and doing it anyway.

That same instinct bleeds into how I work. It’s why larger organizations don’t appeal to me. Too many layers. Too much noise. Not enough edge.

I like small teams. Challenger brands. Founders with something to prove. People still building their story, not just protecting their reputation.

Being the away fan isn’t comfortable. But comfort’s never been the goal because I’d rather feel something real, something raw. Because when you win away, it means more.

// The Away End.

I’ve always found myself liking being on the edges of things - I think I feel more comfortable when there are less people I know to network with because it's a green field site to me - no people to smile at, no jolly handshake and no formalities.

Conferences and networking feels like this to me - I walk into a room and it's full of people, some I know and most I don't. For me at least, I get a tingle in the base of my stomach and I get this excited (and I suppose a little nervous) energy build up. It's just like this weekend, when you've gone through the turnstiles, you get a glimpse of the pitch and you hear the home fans begin to chant..

The chanting isn't for your team though, it's supposed to be intimidating - the away end at Fratton Park is built in such a way that the fans are always subjected to bright sunlight (you're forever bringing your hand up to your forehead in the search for shade) and you're subjected to the constant barrage of abuse chanting from the home fans.

You're already set up to be intimidated, forcibly made to feel uncomfortable and you stand there, with your away shirt on (at least I was) and you sing your songs in the hope that your players are somehow influenced by a few hundred chants in a sea of thousands.

But when you walk into that networking meeting for the very first time, you're facing the same insurmountable odds - you're metaphorically pushed to put that hand up to your forehead and face the barrage of abuse intimidation as you're thrust from one group to another.

The thing I find appealing about the whole process is that (and it's the same for football) - I wasn’t invited in - you're never invited into the away end, the home fans need you - they need an adversary but you're never welcomed. That's the bit that moves me.

I'm not really attracted to the safe bit. The polished bit. The too-many-people-saying-the-same-thing bit. That's not me - and you should embrace that mentality too because there’s something about being on the outside that gives you clarity.

You listen more. You notice more. You say less, but it lands harder (because it is harder). And you find the others like you - not by chance, but by feel.

// "Networking"

Whenever you think of networking, I bet you've got the old stuffy idea of it in your head and if I ever attend a 'networking event' - I always expect the same. It's the name badge on, business card in your pocket, small groups of people stood around some pull up banners vision - it's a nightmarish idea for some people. I really don't understand why 'networking' went this way, there are still organisations, companies and groups who still facilitate this drivel, like the people never learn.

Some people treat networking like a numbers game - scan the room, work the angles, collect the cards. I get it. That’s the playbook we've all been taught. But it’s never felt right to me.

I don’t want to be everyone’s mate. I’m not chasing mass appeal. I’m looking for something sharper than that. Something real and a connection with someone (I want to help over being sold to).

Real doesn’t usually happen in the middle of the room though.

It happens in the corners. The edges. The awkward silences between conversations. It happens when you’ve shown up without the badge, without the fanfare, and someone spots that you’re not quite like the rest. That you’re not performing. You’re just there - like them - trying to find a spark that cuts through all the noise.

That’s where I find that the best connections come from. Not the curated intros or the polite LinkedIn follows. But the shared glance across a room when you both realise you’re not built for the mainstream and that you're both finding it a little tough. That outsider recognition.

That. That right there. That's the Matt King playbook for networking but it's bloody tough because I've waited, I've glanced and and I've sat in that bloody awful space and nothing has happened - there's been crickets and it's a sink or swim moment because, if that moment doesn't happen and you don't get that glance - you've got to fight for one. You've got to go searching for the person who looks the most uncomfortable or even worse, you've got to join in with a group.

When you network like an away fan, you stop chasing the masses and start finding the meaningful. I've said it before (and I'll say it again) you don’t need to be the loudest in the room - you just need to be loud enough for the right person to hear you.

And when that happens, when it clicks, it’s like a goal away from home. Unexpected. Brilliant. And you feel it in your chest.

// Reflection

Look, this whole thing - it’s not a formula and it never has been - you can't 'win' at networking because there is nothing to win. It’s a mindset. It’s how you carry yourself when you walk into a room that doesn’t owe you anything and still emerge with a sense of 'winning'.

Being an away fan - whether in football, in business, or in life - isn’t about shouting the loudest or being the cleverest in the room. It’s about backing yourself when no one else is clapping. It's about being okay with the discomfort, and knowing that the right people - your people - aren’t in the middle of the crowd anyway.

The people in the middle of the crowd, the ones gathered around with their business cards, they're the home fans. They're chanting loudly, with all their mates and being the loudest because they've got the backing. They feel comfortable because they've been there before, it's their turf but we're the away fans, we stick together (even when we go 1-0 down).

Treat your networking like you're an away fan. Be prepared for that abuse intimidation and embrace it.

Of course, sometimes you’ll walk away without making a connection. No glance. No goal fulfilled. Nothing to post about on LinkedIn. But that’s alright. Because the people worth finding are rarely easy to spot - and trust me, when you do meet them, it sticks.

So maybe next time you walk into one of those rooms - networking event, new client meeting, whatever it is - don’t try to blend in. Don’t try to play the game the way everyone else is playing it. Be the one stood in the away end, facing the onslaught of what everyone else believes is the right way to network and back yourself.

Sing your song. Loudly.