With my second consecutive 'killer' weekend behind me I've now got the time to try and recollect my thoughts and emotions from that Sunday. I suppose most people are done with looking back and are more interested in transfer news and the new season.
Up at 5h45, my daughter's flat was devoid of anything that resembled breakfast, apart from an expresso coffee machine. In that sense she is truly french, although she would claim that the reason is that she doen't spend much time there. Driven to Blagnac by her boyfriend, I walked proudly into the airport wearing my blues scarf, half expecting someone to exclaim, "You're going over for the match as well!" No response and the same went for the arrival at a more cosmopolitan Stansted. On the Stansted Express it wasn't until Bishop's Stortford that 6/8 Southend supporters entered our carriage and it felt, at last, the reality of our day at Wembley started to sink in. By the time we reached Baker Street (11am) on the tube the atmosphere was building and chanting was getting louder. The Metropolitan was the obligatory choice as the Globe wasn't yet open. When you think back there are certain images of that day which stick in the mind. One was a solitary bloke wearing an Oldham scarf sitting outside enjoying his drink and no doubt soaking up the atmosphere, even if it was alien to him. Rather forced my daughter to drink an Abbott ale, which she accepted, more out of politeness than desire (never make a real ale enthusiast out of her!). Anyway, at under a fiver a pint, I really don't think she realised what a bargain she'd had! At midday, crossed the road and entered the Globe (great ambiance outside both pubs)......the support was the same, the prices weren't (around £12 for a half of Green King and a Pinot Grigio)! At 12h30 Bakerloo line, direction Wembley Central and followed the throng towards the Stadium. We were unburdened of our rucksacks at local store and just wandered around before making our way to the entrance an hour before kick off. Throughout the day I only saw a few instances of aggressive behaviour between fans and those, happily, were only verbal. Rounding the stadium there was a single Oldham fan who let out a tirade of abuse at a few Southend lads who, in fairness, were rilling him up. I can't tell you the relief of an 'oldie' when the last use of our smartphone got us through the turnstiles!
The seats were superb, near the half way line and only a five metres from the barrier seperating the two sets of fans. I was euphoric to be there but very low on confidence that it was going to be our day. This may be controversial, may be my left ear is sharper than the right? but in the opening (and unecessary?) attempts to warm up both sets of supporters, the Oldham fans seemed much louder. Their noise, at times, was almost deafening......it sounded as though they had loud speakers?!!! They also seemed to be in place earlier and I remembered saying to my daughter that perhaps we should send a message to the Globe or Torch that the match was starting soon. She also had the bad luck to be seated next to an exciteable individual who thought it was incredibly funny to tap people on the shoulder in front of him and look totally innocent when they turned around. It was hardly amusing when he did it the first time but when he continued throughout the game it became rather tedious. In extra time he was also prone to standing on his seat and screaming abuse at the opposing fans. On the 112th minute he disapeared, not to be seen again.
I felt perfecly calm, until the fifth minute, when I was unable to use my camera again, due to the fact that I was trembling too much. Even at that stage I never felt the game was going to stay like that and was relieved that we got to half-time with our lead intact. If you're looking for analysis of the game or tactical comment you won't find it here. I just get too emotionally involved to concentrate on those details. I did however remember getting a little frustrated with KAF, who gave away a number of unecessary free-kicks. So, I said to my daughter, it's vital we keep it tight for the first ten/fifteen minutes of the second-half. That thought didn't filter down to the players on the pitch! The trembling calmed and I feared the worst.....happily that wasn't to come (immediately) and the teams couldn't be seperated in the ninety minutes. Just one minute into extra time the trembling returned with cruelly, for the first time, a feeling of belief. There was quite a bit of standing in front of me, particularly in that last thirty minutes and I had no option but to follow suit but with a conscious guilt that I could be blocking the view of those behind me.
Games turn on very small things and so I felt it was when Walker had done brilliantly to get himself through to a one on one with their keeper. Oh, one reflected afterwards, if it had only been Freddy or Stan............ No complaints about the young man; he did what he could and sadly their keeper did better. At 3-1 there would have been no coming back I'm sure but it wasn't to be and in a small space of two minutes, hope turned to despair. At this point a grey haired granny got up and, showing the finger, hurled a mouthful of abuse at the Oldham fans. Gutted of course but I wouldn't have missed the day for the world and neither would my daughter. I promised her a trip to Wembley, if we got there, when I never believed it would happen.............. and kept to my word. She's not a huge football fan but recognised the opportunity of experiencing a Wembley Final, taking a Monday off work, she seized it with both hands and really enjoyed the game even, if like me, not the result. I think my big fear was that like Halifax and York before we would wilt in front Oldham and be obliged to stay there sitting sadly on our hands until trudging away despondently, well beaten. Instead we were able to thrill at taking the lead twice and to watch a far more entertaining game than our last appearance there, against Wycombe, albeit the final result wasn't what we wished.
I did suggest that, after collecting our rucksacks, we should walk the extra distance to Wembley North but was persuaded to take shorter trip to Central....................error!!!! Like others we found the main entry just being used as an exit, directed down a side road we suddenly fell on what looked like half of Wembley Stadium, massed, waiting to be allowed into the tube station. Tired though we were, we decided to set off on a long 25 minute walk to Wembley North. Like a few others who had the same idea, we got on the next train with no problem and feared the big crush when we arrived back at Central. This didn't materialise because, as we later found out, police were strictly controlling the numbers allowed on the platform (relieved in the knowledge that, in the end, we made the right decision). Changed at Paddington for Liverpool Street and then the original (for me) trip around the houses until regaining the Shoeburyness line at Barking. A quiet, subdued and reflective trip to Leigh (arrived 20h30) brought to an end a thrilling though sad and exhausting day.
