Wycombe In Peace

A quiet journey up for Clarkey, Steve Ducker and myself. At Sheffield station, we meet up with Jenny, who went up for the Darlo game, stayed up in Rotherham and is today feeling a little bit delicate after a ladies' day out in Manchester. Honestly, these senior citizens who lunch...

Mr Kyte is already in the Fat Cat when we arrive. We'd told him to keep his eye out for Ted's mate, Plymouth fan Geoff, who's in town to see them play Sheff U, but Geoff's texted Ted to let him know he's gone to the Devonshire Cat instead. Splitter. We do, however, see Paul, the Wycombe photographer, who's bonded with Ted when he's been doing his own spot of camerawork, and who we often meet in the Doric Arch on Saturday nights. The Fat Cat's resident moggy attempts to get into Paul's bag of camera equipment, but doesn't quite manage it, fortunately for both Paul and cat.

Paul leaves before the rest of us to get pitchside and take his first ever shots of the DVS. We wander over to the Wellington to have a swiftie before we catch the tram. We can tell Ted was in there before the Darlo game, as his DAFTS pocket guide, which gives the unwary news about his merry band of travelling supporters and has details of the pubs to visit in each town when Darlo play away. We knew he'd like the pub, as it has that indefinable 'old codger' vibe he really appreciates - despite how it sounds, this is not necessarily a bad thing.

The match itself seems always destined to end 0-0. Wycombe have definitely come not to concede. They are the most defensive team I've seen in this division - there are times when we have a corner and they don't have a single player in our half. Despite this, and the potentially damaging early loss of Reuben Reid to injury, we match them. Omar Garcia, the only man in the history of football whose CV will ever include spells at Athletic Bilbao and Rotherham, makes his debut for us and shows some real flashes of skill. We almost gift Wycombe a goal, when man of the match Dale Tonge underhits a backpass and plays them in, but Don makes a great save and honours finish even.

In the Old Queens' Head near Sheffield station, we meet up with Paul and his chum, Charlton Dave. I've written the London Millers notes for the club programme, and mentioned Paul extensively, usually in the context of being in a pub. Paul says he's had texts from someone he knows in the press box throughout the game pointing this out. I promise to assure Wycombe I've never seen him anywhere near alcohol on their time.

On the way home, the train is delayed by trespassers on the line near Wellingborough. Clarkey, ever reasonable, is of the mind that they should 'run the b*ggers over'. Mind you, he's excised himself debating the concept of 'franchise football' with a bloke sitting opposite us, who's from Milton Keynes but was at Doncaster today as he attempts to complete the 92 Club. He tells us he only needs the DVS to complete the set, but he won't be going there till March. Also travelling in our carriage are Lib Dem MP Simon Hughes and a group of Plymouth fans whose party trick is singing well-known songs and inserting the word 'knob' in the lyrics at appropriate points, which they find hilarious. It's strangely infectious, as when one of their number launches into 'Angels', Steve groans, 'Oh, God, it's Knobbie Williams.' The journey just speeds past...