Lord Football
Blues on Tour
It was a bright Saturday morning as I jumped on the coach. Coach after coach left, all bedecked in blue and yellow (as it was then). Some of the kids were laughing excitedly, some were painting their faces. The older ones were trying not to show nerves. Attempting calm. I was 23, and me and mine who had started this marvellous journey back in the August of the previous year at Huddersfield were in some kind of wonderland. Was this really happening to a small provincial club like this? Had we really got this far without the wheels falling off? Despite the stories of bravado, we were all as nervous as hell. Three points, that was all that was needed. Just three more points.
I had my lucky scarf with me. It had been to the four corners of the country over the past two years. I didn't care very much that it was touching 20 degrees, that lucky scarf wasn't leaving me.
We arrived in Bury with plenty of time to spare. We found a pub, packed it, drank it dry. Songs drifted down the main drag. "We are going up, say, we are going up".
About 3000 Blues had made the long trip north. We packed the Bury terrace. And the nerves jingle jangled the adrenalin flowed. A wall of noise and shredded paper greeted the team.
The first half was an instantly forgettable 0-0. However, right on half time our rock of a centre back, Pat Scully was sent off for a scything tackle. If we were to do this, here and now, it would be the hard way with ten men.
Bury never looked like scoring. We defended like giants, hoping to find a gap in their well-organised defence. And then, on 81 minutes it happened. The ball was whisked out wide by Dave Martin to our nippy winger Andy Ansah. Out on the right he had been a revelation all season but was having a quiet day today. He jinked inside and laid a pin point ball to Ian Benjamin. Benjy with his back to goal, turned and hit a low shot past Gary Kelly. I remember the net bulging. For what seemed like a number of seconds we all stood there. Opened mouth. Breathless. Not believing. F*** ME A GOAL!!! And then all hell broke loose. We tumbled down that terrace screaming our heads off. I swear the roof shifted upwards by a few inches.
The next ten minutes took forever. I went to the loo a few times, paced up and down and looked at the watch over and over and over again. When the whistle went the celebrations started. And boy, how we celebrated. The Shrimpers promoted into Division Two (as it was) for the first time ever. We drank ourselves silly for the rest of the weekend. One amazing day, one amazing night.
Some years later, I left Blundell Park on the end of a 0-4 defeat and the dream was over. I remember loads of us going despite us being relegated several weeks earlier. We all thought that this would be our last ever game in the second tier of English football. The writing was on the wall - a skint club with no ambition, no fan base and nowhere to go except down.
However, today, I will take a somewhat shorter journey from my house to Roots Hall. I still have my lucky scarf. It will be with me.
The dream shall start again.
THE BLUES ARE GOING UP!!
I had my lucky scarf with me. It had been to the four corners of the country over the past two years. I didn't care very much that it was touching 20 degrees, that lucky scarf wasn't leaving me.
We arrived in Bury with plenty of time to spare. We found a pub, packed it, drank it dry. Songs drifted down the main drag. "We are going up, say, we are going up".
About 3000 Blues had made the long trip north. We packed the Bury terrace. And the nerves jingle jangled the adrenalin flowed. A wall of noise and shredded paper greeted the team.
The first half was an instantly forgettable 0-0. However, right on half time our rock of a centre back, Pat Scully was sent off for a scything tackle. If we were to do this, here and now, it would be the hard way with ten men.
Bury never looked like scoring. We defended like giants, hoping to find a gap in their well-organised defence. And then, on 81 minutes it happened. The ball was whisked out wide by Dave Martin to our nippy winger Andy Ansah. Out on the right he had been a revelation all season but was having a quiet day today. He jinked inside and laid a pin point ball to Ian Benjamin. Benjy with his back to goal, turned and hit a low shot past Gary Kelly. I remember the net bulging. For what seemed like a number of seconds we all stood there. Opened mouth. Breathless. Not believing. F*** ME A GOAL!!! And then all hell broke loose. We tumbled down that terrace screaming our heads off. I swear the roof shifted upwards by a few inches.
The next ten minutes took forever. I went to the loo a few times, paced up and down and looked at the watch over and over and over again. When the whistle went the celebrations started. And boy, how we celebrated. The Shrimpers promoted into Division Two (as it was) for the first time ever. We drank ourselves silly for the rest of the weekend. One amazing day, one amazing night.
Some years later, I left Blundell Park on the end of a 0-4 defeat and the dream was over. I remember loads of us going despite us being relegated several weeks earlier. We all thought that this would be our last ever game in the second tier of English football. The writing was on the wall - a skint club with no ambition, no fan base and nowhere to go except down.
However, today, I will take a somewhat shorter journey from my house to Roots Hall. I still have my lucky scarf. It will be with me.
The dream shall start again.
THE BLUES ARE GOING UP!!
