Thankfully even in spite of defeat I can remember it for a rather amusing and drunken day out. Unsuprisingly the group of 19 that travelled via train to the league fixture a fortnight ago was reduced to a mere 4 of us; only 2 of which had travelled from the deepest depths of Kent. Having spent Friday evening at my mum's house in Herne Bay along with Phil who had stayed the previous night at his Girlfriend's in Dover, we took a much different route into ST Pancras than we normally do, bypassing Dover all-together. We had to go via shitty Thanet and Canterbury which was a nice refreshing expierence.
There were 3 main points regarding the journey from Herne Bay to London St Pancras.
- It was abso-fucking-lutely freezing walking to the station. Fair enough it was 8:15 in the morning but its really starting to get cold! Unfortunately the scarf I bought from the DAFC shop on ebay arrived a few days too late. Think I'll be investing in a beanie hat asap aswell!
- The can of beer on the train went down suprisingly well considering it passed our lips before 9AM. The thought of going into Boreham Wood sober played on the back of my mind!
- The train was really, really fucking busy, a lot more than they usually are on the Dover ones. We ended up being stuck next to two obscenely middle-class kids that were probably not even 10 years old and their fat trout of a mother who was taking them to a live top gear screening or something. These two young boys seemed utterly fascinated by that fact that 999 x 999 ÷ 999 + 999 - 999 = 999. Apparently. This kid spoke with a voice like he had a plum stuck in his throat and seemed annoyingly wise beyond his years in a 'know it all' arrogant manner. After spending the duration of the journey thinking "shut the fuck up and talk about action men or something else instead" I was relieved when they exited the train at Stratford International.
Ginger Jonathan Pring was running late so we headed up the esculators to hop onto the next train into St Albans.
Once we hopped onto the train we noticed a rucksack that had been left behind by somebody. Naturally we waited for the train to depart before grabbing hold of it and having a good rummage through in order to try and discover
We made the trecherous walk up the hill into the town. Phil had to change some Euros into Pounds which wasted valuable drinking time (VDT for future reference) but the pub we wanted to go in was closed for some reason even though it was the same one we had started at on our last visit. So instead we popped into the good ole' Weatherspoons which we could be assured would be open prior to midday. I decided I would try to get on the real ale for the day as I hasn't touched the stuff since the Woking game and subsequently rather enjoyed the pint of Elves Bells I ordered, evidently a special Christmas ale.
Soon after we were joined by the two Johns; Ginger Jonathan Pring and my Uncle John, who was running late. The latter only came to the game because it is relatively nearby his Milton Keynes home but it is always brilliant to see John. Naturally like his nephew, when Phil told him the story about the lost bag he responded by asking Phil if he had sniffed the knickers.
Now you will know this depending on how well you know John but he has a very strongly graphic and gruesomely sexually orientated mind, often delving into how he would like to eat "so and so's shit" and how he would like a box of tupperware to do so. Its all in a humourous manner anyway, I think.
We took a very similar pub route to the one we had before. Our next boozer was our originally intended one, The Boot Inn, which was now open. I had a nice little blonde ale in there which went down a treat, before we headed down the hill and into the pub that has a three-legged Dog. I don't know the name of the dog but I am told by Mark Winter that it is called Woodbine, which it shall be refered to from now on. It's a really lovely hound that somehow manages to survive with no front leg.
But that wasn't the best part about the pub. The georgous student-type blonde behind the bar serving my pint of some-other-blonde-ale caught most of our eyes. She looked like she had been absolutely pounded by some other lad the night before judging by her scruffy hair and pyjama like wear. Smashing arse and a pair of tits though.
After we finished in there we had one more pint in ST Albans in a pub from around the corner which I cannot remember the name of. So lets call it the FoxGrotters. FoxGrotters was a bit of a bland modern pub that seemed to specialise in food but the pint I had in there was pretty decent. Ginger John Pring was guzzling down 'real' ciders and he had some horrendously cloudy one which he let me sample.
As for the conversations, they mainly consisted of sophisticated subjects like
Anyway, after a measly 4 pints consumed we headed back to the Snorebuns station in time for the short journey to Boring, Boring Wood, where we had enough time to sink a quick pint in their Weatherspoons. Upon arrival in there we were greeted by the MASSES of fellow Dovorians including a suprise appearence from Matt Nolan, son of our former assistant manager Steve. He lives near Cambridge these days so it was a pleasant suprise to see him, although he seemed dissapointed that his good pal Adrian hadn't turned up, who's been
Anyway, I made the decision to revert back to lager because
We arrived into the ground a few minutes before kick-off after again paying a Child's price thanks to John playing the role of father. I was pleasantly suprised to see Charlton supporting Malcolm in the ground. Although Charlton did not play until Monday evening, it was strange that somebody who alledgedly doesn't support Dover would spend several hours going to watch them at a shithole of a ground that he had been to before. Still, it was welcoming to have him amongst us as he always provided entertainment. And add to the fact that we were very low in numbers, he helped to forge about 50 Dover fans that made the soul-destroying journey into Hertfordshire. Poor old Champ had only managed to get 12 on board for the journey. Not suprising consider who we were playing, the competition and general shitty Weather conditions but his massive efforts running them deserve better.
Anyway, onto the football. Or should I even bother? Apart from their goal, I can remember next to nothing from the first half, not because I was massively hammered; but because I can't remember anything of note happening in such a dull game and generally toothless Dover performance.
The only goal of the game came via a David Bryant header on the near post from a deep cross. Ruiz should've done a lot better with it but he didn't. The collective groans from the Dover support were probably equally as loud from the 'celebrations' from the Dover fans.
The rest of the first half I just remember having light-hearted conversations with fellow Dover fans with a nice can of beer in my hand. I had a nice in-depth chat with Champ about wrestling, then I deservedly got ribbed by a few of the others for my tendancy to socialize with oppositions supporters. All while this went on, we had a few half-chances on the pitch, but nothing that particularly worried their goalkeeper, who had particularly poor kicking and looked generally like an accident waiting to happen. Walker hit the bar from a deflected cross (and it rolled accross the cross bar!) but thats as close as we got to hitting the back of the onion sack in the entire game. In hindsight our first half performance wasn't particularly bad, but not particularly inspiring either. The second half would fall way short of the required standard.
Quite a few of us piled into their bar for a much-needed half-time pint. A couple of familar blokes in Boreham Wood suits came over and spoke to us. The lad from a fortnight ago who had got sent off and the villain from that game; the greasy haired Tony-Browne-Lookalike left back. He was suprisingly a very decent and honest chap. He essentially agreed with us that many of our players are not actually very good and we spoke about Daniel Braithwaite, who played the full 90 minutes against us played very well, mopping up anything that came his way. We kept asking them if they found it depressing playing for a club that has home crowds of about 50 and whether the money was good enough to make up for it. They were reluctant to answer the question but we all knew the answer would be 'yes'.
Anyway, onto the second half. Our best (and only?) chance came only 5 minutes in when Barry Cogan carelessly blasted over in the box after Southam threaded it through to him.
From then onwards we produced very little, not helped by the fact we were giving the ball away every 5 seconds. Baker and Purcell came on in the hope of giving us more attacking threat but they provided neither, although Purcell was harshly adjudged to have fouled one of their players when he ran through on goal.
Instead Boring Wood would enjoy the majority of the chances but somehow managed to squander numerous efforts. Ruiz made a good save and Wynter managed to clear one off the line but in the end they were unable to extend their lead. Not that it would matter as the 1 goal margin would be more than comfortable for them. As a result, we miss out on a home tie with former football league side Cambridge United which is a massive shame, while that is one less competition for us fans to look forward to this season.
The highlight of the entire second-half was the bacon cheeseburger I bought. It was shit, like most food at football grounds, but having not eaten anything all day it went down a treat.
I refused to acknowledge the players as they half-heartedly clapped us off along with many others. At this point it was time to get the fuck out of Meadow Park, hopefully for the last time ever if justice ever happens and Boreham Wood either go bust or fuck off back to the Hertfordshire league. So myself,Phil, the two Johns' and Nolan swiftly fucked off into town for the weatherspoons for a much needed beer (and a burger - again!). Matt Nolan couldn't believe how piss-poor we were and said that he was glad he isn't missing out on much.
I think it was in this pub that Phil discovered another bag, this time a shopping bag belonging to some lass called Danielle Stack. I can't remember this at all so I'll just copy the text message from Phil:
"Danielle Stack is the bird that was at the fruit machine with that bloke it was her pub whose knickers and bra we had out lol. She come and got her bag when John still had her thong in his pocket lol. I dropped it back in there when she went to toilet lol. She must have heard everything we was saying and doing. She was a student at East Hert college and the bloke she was with was about 46 and she was 16 and it was no way her dad or her brother. Lol"
I can only very vaguely remember this but it still sounds very intriguing nonetheless.
Phil had also somehow managed to acquire a fleece and New Zealand rugby beanie hat, much to my amusement.
After leaving Spoons we headed up the high street to the station, picking up a few cans of Lech en route for the train. At the station we bid our emotional farewells to Uncle John, who was heading back ooop North while the rest of us caught the train to Pancreas. Me and Phil decided we were in no rush to go home so we all decided to go for a beer in London. We ended up in my favourite pub near Euston Station, the Rocket. For a London pub it is relatively cheap and it has live football so its a winner for me. Only problem for me is that I was so hammered at this point I could barely sit up straight. I just sat glumly watching the Arsenal v Fulham game which was the first Premiershite match I've watched for a long period of time. I was drinking my pint so slowly that it would not even be doing it justice to say that it was Russell Laughton pace! It was the only pint I managed in about an hour duration there, just totally not with it at that point. Then as we prepared to leave Phil mysteriously dissapeared and had started jogging up the road. When we managed to catch up with him we had discovered he'd taken a whole big box of HP Sauce sachets from the pub. Totally random but fucking funny at the same time in which concluded a successful day for him - new coat, new hat and plenty of sauce.
After verbally winding up various Arsewipe fans at the station, whom had only managed to hold plucky little Fulham to a draw, we hopped onto the train together and barely spoke a word to each other on the journey back. I went my seperate ways by getting off at Ashford and going back to Herne Bay via Fannit, somehow successfully managing to get home safely despite various spells of nodding off on the train home. And that was the end of another shitty outing following a feeble non-league team, although it was actually a really funny and enjoyable day if you take the football out of the equation. Much like most of the rest of the season then!
Oh yeah! I also remember that Champ got into a bit of verbals with Steve Watt on twitter. We were all angry and upset with the DAFC players but perhaps we shouldn't have got stuck into one of the players that is stuck on the sidelines. Still, I ended up making about 15 different tweets trying to vent my frustrations late on in the evening which are quite amusing if you haven't seen them yet. To be fair to Watty, he answered them and understood some of my views.
Anyway, next up for us on Saturday is Dartford away. I know its early on in the week but I can't believe how little I am pumped up for a Dartford derby, particularly one at their gaff. Personally I think it is too soon anyway and I would prefer to be playing them later on in the season regardless, but there are also other factors. Our support is likely to be dissapointing there. This can be attributed to recent piss-poor performances, horrible winter conditions and Christmas nearing but even with that all taken into account, Its Dartford for fuck sake, we should always be taking a big number there. Although in the grand scheme of things its nots very important, I think it would be embarrassing if we only have 150 there, which isn't unfeasible.
As for the football, we owe them. Fucking owe them big time after last season. But with the way things are going I would just like us to take the game to them, show some fucking heart and show a desire to win the game. No more excuses, just giving them as good as we've got. Is that too much to ask?
FA Trophy 3rd Round Qualifying Results
No comments:
Post a Comment