Ground Number 181 (50/92): Madejski Stadiun
Reading 1-0 Bristol City
Saturday 2nd January 2015
Championship
Attendance: 19,677 (3,321)
Admission: £13 (18-24)
When you're a sad enough bastard to attempt to complete the 92, it is an accepted part of the parcel that you will have to tick off several dull, sterile, identikit grounds along the way. Now once again possessing free train travel as one of my benefits of nepotism (because I'm now working part-time and am a student), I have boundless freedom again when it comes to picking and choosing my fixtures. So quite why I chose to inaugurate the new year by selecting a stadium and football experience I envisaged I would not enjoy in the slightest remains a mystery. Other than the obvious reasoning "it has to be ticked off at some stage".
Out of the Great 92, the Madejski was the only one in the London/South East area that had yet to be graced by my presence. This on paper would seem like a reasonable time to visit if ever; Bristol, being "only" 85 miles down the road and directly connected by rail, would treat this as an invasion fixture. Both sides have been struggling enormously of late which I would hope would lead to an open game where three points would be an absolute necessity to both sides.
I have been to Reading a few times before while previously trying to spruce up a dull turd of an away day in Basingstoke. It's not the prettiest town centre but there are a few cracking ale pubs there and an exceptionally quality pie shop. Unfortunately this time I wouldn't have a chance to sample any of these hostelries - my incompetent twat of a brother contrived to forget to bring an asthma inhaler that my father had set aside for me (my dosage had been nigh on empty). Thus my pre and post match my activity would be an unsuccessful attempt to try and sort myself an emergency prescription in a pharmacy.
So, breathing difficulties in tow, we caught the football special bus from the station (£4 return) to the Mad - 3 miles out of the town centre - a surprisingly smooth journey and service, despite the presence of annoying pisshead Bristolians around us.
2015 had already introduced me to the prototype (mostly) single-tiered bowl type stadiums in the form of Southampton, Leicester and Derby. Like the majority of stadium-lusting nerds/paedophiles, they're not my desired form of grounds and format, though I do understand from a practical point of view why they're so common in contemporary design. They just do the job; good views from all around the stadium, all enclosed in so usually good for echoing and noise, and they're easy to navigate for turnstile entrance and exit.
Again though, they're just visually so fucking dull and Reading's effort is up there with the blandest of the lot. I'm possibly unnecessarily biased, but I thought Leicester's was the best in terms of enclosure, and I didn't mind Pride Park either. Maybe I'm unfairly picking on Reading because they have a more placid fanbase and are extremely cringeworthy on the club PR aside of things. But the Madejski definitely files up with the dullest of the lot.
Another thing true to form was the quality of the game. Contrary to some of the serial whingeing imbeciles around me, I actually thought Reading played OK for the majority of the match, but their final ball, crossing, and finishing (from Matej Vydra in particular) left a lot to be desired at times. But they are a side with good players, it showed at times, just one currently in a rot and needing of a lucky break. Meanwhile Bristol City very much resembled what you'd expect from a side in their lowly position. They looked very fragile at the back, leaving lots of gaps open, and they lacked any real presence or outlet up top to give them the spark that they needed in the times they were being more fruitful in possession. How 36 year old Aaron Wilbraham gets into a Championship starting line-up I do not know - even my inhalorless self could outsprint him to a loose ball.
Despite a frustrating lack of cutting edge from both sides and periods of careless sloppyness in the adverse conditions, it was an entertaining contest for the majority of it. For myself, the neutral, it had a compelling unsolved question of "who will be one to nick it" - I could fully sense that the game would not end goalless. Approaching the 90th minute, the travelling Robins masses thought they had nicked it when Jonathan Kodija was played through and lifted the ball over the advancing Ali Al-Habsi in goal. Despite the flag having been raised nearly 5 seconds earlier, it hilariously did not prevent the backwards, wurzel-filled away end from erupting.
To compound their misery, from the resulting play Reading ventured up the field and gave the game the conclusion that it deserved. Top Royals goalscorer Nick Blackman was fed on the right-hand side, drifted inside the box, shifted a defender before coolly slotting into the bottom left hand corner. Done. Dealt with. Finished. Game over. Bye.
The aftermath of the winner was one of the greatest reactions I have ever seen. I'm so glad I carefully selected to sit near the away end, the consequent meltdown of Bristol City's 'boys' (comprising of around 50 stone island/aquascutum clad blokes old enough to know better) was one of the greatest things I have ever witnessed. There had been the standard posturing and to-and-forth from both sets of fans throughout the afternoon (I believe this is labelled as 'banter' in this day and age) but once Reading had the audacity to score it had escalated into a full-scale "hold me back lads, I'm going in" thirst of violence. Several were wound up enough to attempt to cross the segregation lines and once stewards/police started to fully intervene they started to fight them instead. I witnessed one steward take a clean right hook to the noggin, the poor guy. It was embarrassingly tragic and you do have to despair of blokes who are in their forties and find behaving like this as acceptable for men their age. It was amusing nonetheless.
City's numbers were impressive and in the sporadic periods when they did collectively find their voices they were loud. As a neutral, there's nothing I find more satisfying than watching limbs and carnage in the away end after a late goal, so there were times I was secretly hoping they would be the ones to find the winner. Alas, I was satisfied with how everything panned out.
As for Reading, I have nothing real against them, but they do little to dispel the stereotype of fronting the awful facets associated with modern football. Their PA guy, like the chap at Forest Green, is a hyperactive moron who attempts to drum up vocal support by screeching out "be loud, be proud, come on you RRRRRRRRZ" prior to kick off. They play 'Sweet Caroline' and the Postman Pat theme song (yes really) several times over the PA. There is nothing wrong with catering towards families but the whole matchday experience is incredibly tinpot. I'm sure there are plenty of old school Royals fans who would agree with me in this regard though. It's hard to retain a club's authenticity and soul when it moves to a new stadium and drastically increases its attendances. I would have loved to have visited the old Reading FC, the one playing in a decaying, tight-knit shithole in front of 5,000 fans at Elm Park. But such is life.
Who the fuck am I to moan and slag off anyway? I'm the tourist wanker with a digital camera taking pictures of matches I have no interest in the outcome of.
Despite a frustrating lack of cutting edge from both sides and periods of careless sloppyness in the adverse conditions, it was an entertaining contest for the majority of it. For myself, the neutral, it had a compelling unsolved question of "who will be one to nick it" - I could fully sense that the game would not end goalless. Approaching the 90th minute, the travelling Robins masses thought they had nicked it when Jonathan Kodija was played through and lifted the ball over the advancing Ali Al-Habsi in goal. Despite the flag having been raised nearly 5 seconds earlier, it hilariously did not prevent the backwards, wurzel-filled away end from erupting.
To compound their misery, from the resulting play Reading ventured up the field and gave the game the conclusion that it deserved. Top Royals goalscorer Nick Blackman was fed on the right-hand side, drifted inside the box, shifted a defender before coolly slotting into the bottom left hand corner. Done. Dealt with. Finished. Game over. Bye.
The aftermath of the winner was one of the greatest reactions I have ever seen. I'm so glad I carefully selected to sit near the away end, the consequent meltdown of Bristol City's 'boys' (comprising of around 50 stone island/aquascutum clad blokes old enough to know better) was one of the greatest things I have ever witnessed. There had been the standard posturing and to-and-forth from both sets of fans throughout the afternoon (I believe this is labelled as 'banter' in this day and age) but once Reading had the audacity to score it had escalated into a full-scale "hold me back lads, I'm going in" thirst of violence. Several were wound up enough to attempt to cross the segregation lines and once stewards/police started to fully intervene they started to fight them instead. I witnessed one steward take a clean right hook to the noggin, the poor guy. It was embarrassingly tragic and you do have to despair of blokes who are in their forties and find behaving like this as acceptable for men their age. It was amusing nonetheless.
City's numbers were impressive and in the sporadic periods when they did collectively find their voices they were loud. As a neutral, there's nothing I find more satisfying than watching limbs and carnage in the away end after a late goal, so there were times I was secretly hoping they would be the ones to find the winner. Alas, I was satisfied with how everything panned out.
As for Reading, I have nothing real against them, but they do little to dispel the stereotype of fronting the awful facets associated with modern football. Their PA guy, like the chap at Forest Green, is a hyperactive moron who attempts to drum up vocal support by screeching out "be loud, be proud, come on you RRRRRRRRZ" prior to kick off. They play 'Sweet Caroline' and the Postman Pat theme song (yes really) several times over the PA. There is nothing wrong with catering towards families but the whole matchday experience is incredibly tinpot. I'm sure there are plenty of old school Royals fans who would agree with me in this regard though. It's hard to retain a club's authenticity and soul when it moves to a new stadium and drastically increases its attendances. I would have loved to have visited the old Reading FC, the one playing in a decaying, tight-knit shithole in front of 5,000 fans at Elm Park. But such is life.
Who the fuck am I to moan and slag off anyway? I'm the tourist wanker with a digital camera taking pictures of matches I have no interest in the outcome of.
 |
| "See you, you cunt. I'll cut you first" |
No comments:
Post a Comment