Friday 10 December 2010

Eighty-nine Minutes Of Blowing

A civilised departure on the 10.40 for once, seeing how these days you can get to Crewe in about ninety minutes. It’s all to do with the track straightening at Rugby, at least according to an article I once read by Pete Waterman, who’s a massive train buff and used to – perhaps even still does – own that weird collection of old trains and rolling stock close to Crewe station. That’s not enough to forgive him for inflicting the Reynolds Girls on the world, but still...
There’s just Jenny and me travelling up. John Kirkland will be on a train an hour behind ours, simply because by the time he decided he wanted to come on the trip, all the cheap tickets on this train had gone. Judging by our fellow passengers, the Man U daytrippers beat him to it.
One smooth journey, complete with sighting of requisite South American wildlife just outside Crewe (new llamas – got to be an omen), later we’re meeting my brother on the station. Our destination this time isn’t our old favourite, the British Lion (aka the British Legion). Instead, we’re trying the Borough Arms, as recommended by Ted. It’s a bit of a trek, up into bits of Crewe we didn’t actually know existed - i.e the town centre. As we wait to cross the road by the retail park, an elderly coach does a circuit of the roundabout. From the expressions of the passengers inside, we can only assume there’s a woman standing up front with a microphone announcing, ‘And that concludes our tour of the roundabouts of Crewe...’
Fortunately, the walk is worth it. The Borough Arms is small and surprisingly busy, but the range of beers (including the flavoured ones my brother always refers to as ‘Belgian fruit juice’) is excellent, and the ladies’ is supplied with quality handwash (always a promising sign). Already ensconsed is Graham, an old schoolmate of Clarkey’s, along with a friend to whom we’re never formally introduced. Said friend, however, is a natural raconteur, and tells us a story about a man apparently vanishing into thin air on a trans-Atlantic flight that has to be heard to be believed. The pair of them saw our defeat to York in the Cup on Tuesday night and aren’t too positive about our prospects today. Apparently, the moral from that game is that we really, really need to take our chances.
By this time, we’ve acquired a brace of Kirklands and Chris Burrows, who’ve found the place without too many problems. They like it as much as we do.
We leave in good time to visit the chip shop by Gresty Road. The chips are well up to their usual standard, even if John K does manage to spill half of mine...
There are a couple of changes to the team. Baby keeper Jamie Annerson is in goal, as Don’s wife gave birth a couple of days ago, and Johnny Mullins is in at centre half as Ryan Cresswell still isn’t fit. However, it seems like the disappointment of Tuesday night has been put behind everyone. Barely have Jenny and I put the flag in place and the away support have aimed their first chorus of ‘What’s that coming over the hill? Is it the taxman?’ at Wednesday than we’re in front. A ball in from Marcus Marshall is put behind. The Crewe keeper flaps at the resulting corner, and though Mark Bradley celebrates the resulting goal, it’s actually come off one of the Crewe defenders. Cue blowing from my brother to the left of me
The rest of the first half is what you might call ‘open’. Ryan Taylor, Danny Coid and Alfie all have good chances, and Taylor hits the crossbar, while down the other end Ashley Westwood drags his shot wide when he’s only got Annerson to beat. We’re playing some really good football, with Marcus Marshall causing the Crewe defence all sorts of problems, while Fenton and Mullins are seeing off the threat of Clayton Donaldson, whose hairdo looks like the love child of My Little Pony and a scrubbing brush. We’re enjoying all this despite the distraction of the bloke behind Jenny, who keeps dropping his mobile phone under our seats. Fortunately, we manage to retrieve all the bits for him...
If the score was four-all at half-time, no one would be at all surprised. It’s been excellent entertainment, and the second half is even better. Dario Gradi makes changes to try and counteract the fact Tom Newey’s been keeping their right-winger really quiet, but we’re definitely in charge. Nicky Law is having one of his best games for us, and Kevin Ellison, back in place of teeny tiny Stephen Brogan, is winding up the Crewe fans a treat, as he always does. Annerson has to make a good fingertip save, but Crewe must know it’s not their day when the ref decides to award a goal kick, rather than a corner.
We should have extended our lead by now, and we get a great chance when we’re awarded a penalty after Crewe defender Ada has some kind of brainfart and bats the ball away with his arm. Alfie’s spot kick isn’t the greatest, though, and the keeper pushes it on to the post. Luckily, it doesn’t matter, though we keep pressing for a second goal right up to the final whistle.
The fans, so negative at the Southend game, have been behind the team all day today. They even have a song for Tom Newey, who’s been getting his share of stick in recent weeks. Midweek it was Ronnie out, today it’s Ronnie in. He must feel like he’s doing the Hokey-Cokey!
After the game, we pop into the Royal Hotel for a drink. This is where Clarkey comes when he stays over for his annual Spear Of Destiny weekender, and the place he meant to send us to last season. It’s manic at first, but quickly quietens down, and we find a table where we can avoid the Liverpool-West Ham game on the big screen, though the cheering from the other patrons lets us know that West Ham are getting trounced.
John’s on the same train as us on the way back, so we leave the Chrises to enjoy another drink, decant my brother (who’s finally stopped blowing) on to a train to Brum, then make our way home among yet more Man U daytrippers. They may have been to the Theatre of Dreams, and have the carrier bags to prove it, but I’m sure they can’t have enjoyed their day more than we have.

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