claims never to have seen it on his numerous visits to Dean Court (aka The
Fitness First Stadium). He's not making the trip this time, citing some
excuse about not wanting to use the bus replacement service between
Southampton and Bournemouth, so Jenny and her temporary lodger Nigel, Young Rob (so called because he's the newest and youngest of the
LM's three-Rob quotient) and I are the stout party meeting up at Waterloo.
Chris Turner joins us at Clapham Junction. I wave at yell at him as the
train pulls into the station, only to realise there's no way he can hear me
through a sheet of glass...
We pass the time filling in the huge football crossword in Nigel's Daily
Star, though some of the clues are so obscure they need either arcane
knowledge of Sixties cup finals or unlimited access to Google. Nigel is so
close to the £25 prize he can almost taste it, but reckons he'll be beaten
to it by Morecambe fans, whose journey to Gillingham must be the longest of
the day. The answer to seven down is Rotherham winger Alex Rhodes, which we
hope is going to be a good omen for today's result.
Once in Bournemouth, it's straight to the Railway Social Club, where the
legend that is Tom Coley, Bournemouth Miller, has organised us some
hospitality. As always when we play there, he's got the club staff to
organise a buffet, all Millers fans welcome, there's football on the big
screen and the boys who like such things say the Ringwood Forty-niner which
is the current guest beer hits the spot nicely. Tom no longer has his famous
inflatable ref, which he originally acquired to wave at our then goalie, Sir
Michael Pollitt, following his travesty of a sending-off against Derby, and
which has apparently succumbed to a slow puncture. However, he does have the
pack of over-sized playing cards he once used to organise an impromptu game
of 'Play Your Cards Right' in the away end at Vicarage Road, and soon the
Railway Club is ringing to cries of, 'Higher!,' Lower!' and, '*!@&!, Milton
Keynes have just scored!'
We are joined by various other LMs including the Exley family, Bob Harrison
and my wee bro, Coldwell Minor, who is making a weekend of it and has been
building sandcastles on the beach with daughter, Katie. Sadly, he hasn't
thought to collect any sand to prove to Tim that Bournemouth does, indeed,
have a coastline.
As for the match, it's played out in the most unseasonably warm weather, and
we bask like lizards. Bournemouth, who've had a day longer to recuperate
from their Johnson's Paint tie in the week, dominate the first half. Darren
Anderton strolls around the midfield, spraying passes here and there. He
definitely still possesses class, but you sense the Cherries might have
problems if he's out for any length of time. We come more into it in the
second half, though Bournemouth still have the best chance to win it when
Anderton, who's already spooned what looks like a sitter over the bar, hits
the post. Bournemouth get an injury time free kick, which convinces Bob,
who's sitting next to me, that we've thrown it away. However, my brother,
who is eerily Zen calm, given that he normally blows like a racehorse when
he's anxious, is convinced it's destined to finish 0-0 - and it does.
Back at the Railway Club, they're screening England v Khazakhstan. Fifteen
minutes or so have gone by the time we arrive and it's nil-nil at Wembley,
too. As the game progresses and England fail to score, it starts to become
obvious that a few people watching actually want the team to do badly. Quite
what this will prove to these people, I've never been sure, but it becomes
more apparent when Ashley Cole cocks up his back pass and the Khazakhs
score. Cue all the ranting about how much footballers get paid etc etc.
What's obvious is that getting on their backs doesn't actually help them put
in a performance, and as they relax once the two-goal cushion is restored,
the improvement in their play is visible. We discuss some of this over
plates of excellent chilli which is provided at half-time - if only football
clubs had the facility, or the wits, to provide something like chilli as
part of their catering, rather than the usual pies and indifferent burgers
(relax, Dagenham, I'm not looking at you...).
We're back in London at a reasonable time, tanned and glowing. Sometimes
it's nice to be beside the seaside, even if we haven't seen the sea.
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