Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Thursday 27 September 2012

27 September 2012

Your original/regular Diary is having a memory-rummage, in an effort to recall the longest journey I've ever made to an away game. I don't think I can tell you any proper horror stories. The worst that's ever happened was probably getting stuck in heavy traffic on the A4123 and arriving ten minutes late for a routine midweek pasting at Molineux. Mind you, Lennie Lawrence's Town side were already losing when we arrived, so it was probably a blessing in disguise. We had Neil Murray in midfield. Surprisingly, he lasted until half time. Lawrence had probably never even seen him play. Right at the end Wolves brought Adam Proudlock off the bench, just to take the piss. We still had to get home again afterwards.

Travelling to the Wembley games in 1998 was not so much a hair-raising as a hair-of-the-dog experience. The night before one of the matches, I had unwisely taken excessive liquor, and could barely travel downstairs in my own house, never mind to the outskirts of London. "Who wants a can of Guinness?" asked my brother, as I curled into a foetal position on the floor of the vestibule between two overcrowded train carriages.

"What time is it?" I mumbled back, suppressing a retch.

"9:02," said my brother.

"Yeah, go on then."

Those were different times. These days you neck a can of Guinness at nine in the morning and someone will probably tell you it might not be a very good idea.

Today's diary, in a roundabout sort of way, is a tribute to the group of Luton fans who arrived at half time last Friday at Blundell Park to find their side losing 3-0. "Accidents, congestion and a coach driver working his maximum number of hours all contributed to a wretched night where even a dearth of taxis meant they were unable to reach the game on time, finally getting to Blundell Park at half time after leaving Luton at 2.45pm," explains the Dunstable Gazette. GTFC charged them half price to get in, which seems reasonable enough to me, though the Gazette seems to think the delayed Hatters should've been offered a red carpet and an extra large haddock and chips from Steel's, hand-fed to them by Deadly John (Fourthfromtopcon) and Patricia Hodge.

The thing is, it's experiences like these that make great fans. I'll bet you any money those poor sods won't be put off an even further slog the next time their side has a trip to bloody Gateshead. They'll be there if Town play Luton in the play-offs come May. And whatever the outcome of these games, and whatever league their team happens to find itself in, they'll be there again next time. Instead of sitting on their arses at home, pretending their dads were born on the Kippax to try and justify watching Man City on Sky. And it's great fans like these, who - in spite of Murdoch, Scudamore and the oil emperors - continue to shape English football into the uniquely broad and deep landscape that it is.