Anyway, without rumbling anymore on about that, there was a silver lining cloud in the form of a great back up plan; a first visit to Underhill to watch my beloved Plymouth Argyle take on Barnet in what I have now discovered is the final season the club will be at the stadium.
I'm not actually a proper Plymouth two club wanker just for the record, its just that I keep a keen eye on them as my Dad supports them. And no, I'm not really entirely sure why he supports a club based in Devon but I'm sure that can be a story he will tell me at a later date. I have seen the Pilgrims play twice before; the first being a 3-3 draw with Brighton & Hove Albion at Home Park around 1999 which being so young I can only really vaguely remember. Since then 3 stands of the ground have been re-developed and I really need to get myself back there some day, which will hopefully be in the away end with Dover *dream FA Cup tie alert*. And for the second game, I quite shamefully missed a Dover home game, a 1-2 defeat to Kingstonian which signalled the end of Steve Brown's reign and left us rooted to the bottom of the Ryman Premier with relegation seeming a certainty. As a naive 13 year old I was quite eager to visit a 'proper' football ground in the form of Priestield, a quite dreadful ground for an away supporter. And it was an ex Dover loanee, Andrew Crofts, who put Plymouth to sword with the only goal of the game on the occasion. But never mind; the Gillscum still got relegated at the end of that season.
So when I saw that Plymouth were playing Barnet I was quite excited at them playing at a ground I had wanted to visit soon with it due to be confine to the wasteland of history sooner rather than later, which was also fairly local and affordable. And better still my two companions who were due to travel to Truro with me were also up for it, meaning I would have company throughout the day in the form of Kieran Dodd and Christopher Hunt.
I met up with Kieran to catch the 09:44 highspeed train into St Pancakes (© Christopher) where Doddy was running his usual fashionable lateness. Well, not too late actually as there were still about 8 minutes remaining, but still not enough to purchase his ticket at the station. While waiting for him some lad around my age struck up a conversation with me having clocked on me wearing Dover Athletic jacket and we got talking. Then I was amazed that he told me he was a Plymouth fan and was off to Barnet as well, both of us couldn't believe the chances of it in somewhere like Dover. We didn't catch the train with him though as he was off to Maidstone first to meet his Argyle supporting father before getting there. He did warn me that with a lot of Truro 2CW's amongst the Plymouth supportership I could get a bit of stick because they have been riled by Jim Parmenter's perfectly legitimate comments. But I don't think anyone really noticed to be honest. And sadly I didn't get to catch him again amongst the huge travelling hordes from the West Country.
Me and Doddy spent most of the journey discussing the England v San Marino game from the night prior, of which he had actually attended at Wembley. I can't say I was too envious really; it was pretty painful viewing watching us struggle to break down the most limited international side in the world for long spells. Not forgetting that he actually had to suffer the painfully dreadful England band in person without having the luxury to press mute on the sound like I did. And I haven't even mentioned being surrounded by face paint clad, happy clappy, middle-class tourist types that seem to make up most of the attendees. Oh, and having to get throught a ridiclous queue to get back on the underground after the game. But other than that I'm sure he had a great evening out. Attending an England game at Wembley doesn't really appeal to me at all for them reasons, even though I actually quite like the stadium on itself. I still have never attended a Three Lions game, and I doubt I ever will unless its at a major international tournament. Because when it comes to England I am like one of those fans I despise at Dover that only jump on board for the FA Cup ties and make out that they are lifelong supporters.
One can of becks, a bottle of stella, plenty of oogling at some very hot young females I could only ever dream of fingering, and approximately an hour later, we had arrived in the very undesirable capital of our country. And seeing as we were here pretty early I thought it was a good opportunity to go to the underground and finally buy the oyster card I have been meaning to get a very long time ago. It meant queuing up for over 20 minutes behind annoying foreign and scouse tourists who get to the desk and seemingly have no idea what they're doing, but luckily I won't have to queue very often on the underground anymore. Funnily enough we were not even using the underground for this journey anyway although there is a station called High Barnet on the Northern line which is only 5 minutes away from the ground. Instead there were national rail lines to New Barnet, approximately 15 minutes from the ground but with plenty of pubs en route.
But we didn't plan on going there straight away, instead choosing to wait for the notioriously late arriver in Chris while drinking a few pints in The Betjeman arms, a pub I hadn't been to yet but Doddy had previously raved about. Its situated just upstairs from the bottom end of St Pancakes station and its certainly a pleasant pub with plenty of different rooms and outside sections as well. I was warned that it would be expensive though but of course I was expecting that in the rip-off capital but Doddy was kind enough to cover the first round totally over £8 for two pints; a Becks for him and some German lager I'd never heard of before called Lowenbrau. And it just went to show that being cool and obscure isn't always better as it was pretty weak and tasteless - it felts more like a coors light than a bitburger. Never mind. The pint of Becks I had afterwards was better.
The main concern was Chris though and he was typically running late although this time he seemed to have legitimate reasoning with engineering works fucking up his route from Putney. By the time we did meet him outside we had about 12 minutes until our train but being the true legends that we are, we managed to quickly squeeze in a quick dash to burger king for some much needed fuel before running off to the Kings Cross platform and managing to make the train with such a matter of seconds remaining. It turned out my BOGOF vouchers were a waste of time as the chicken royale(s) were disappointingly bland and not worth nearly sacraficing a train for.
There were plenty of other Green shirts populating this old rusty train as the twenty minute journey took us through various non-descript places on the outskirts of London before we arrived at the one we were intending to get off at. And it didn't take long to find out it was your average London overspill town with cheap offlicences and ludicrously cheap takeaways being the first few shops in sight.
We came very poorly prepared for this, none of us having the slighest of clues where everything was or where we were going. The only preparation I had done was to book mine and Doddy's £13 concession rate terrace ticket but I hadn't sorted out anything in the way of pub reccomendations or directions. So instead of just following the rest of the Argyle crowd, we ventured into the nearest pub we could find which was The Railway Tavern. It was your bog standard pub suitable for football fans with Sky TV, Pool table, Plenty of beers and ales on draught, a sizeable beer garden and cheap food, but it also had a slightly dirty/unclean feel to the place. The most noteworthy thing about the pub though was the fact it had tv screens in the pub toilets which was pretty damn cool.
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| Just a shame that the only thing they could screen was thugby with the international break ensuring a lack of screened soccer over the weekend. |
Nothing particularly witty or exotic to write home about here, but we did speak to some other Argyle fans in the beer garden and unfortunately for the PAFC fanbase he did nothing to help shake off the West Country simpleton stereotype.
With time worryingly at a premium we decided to head off to the pub closest to the ground which I had heard was supposed to be pretty reasonable except we had one problem; we didn't have a clue which way it was........ and predictably we started walking the wrong way. At that point we did what any clueless person would do and rang up a taxi to take us to Underhill and we'd work out what we were doing from there.
We arrived outside the famous stadium just after 2PM, surpassing the pub we were planning to go to which seemed to be decked out with away fans. I thought the best thing to do at this point would be to collect our tickets from the ticket office before going back to the pub. But then with Chris being told he couldn't buy a ticket at the office and instead pay at the turnstile a bit I panicked that he might not get in, not knowing if Plymouth would sell out their allocation seeing as it has a pretty small capacity. Instead the plan would be that we'd drink a couple of overpriced beers inside the ground......
Just out of interest, we saw another few Dover fans outside the ground; Steven King and his Dad. They were also in the away end with us but we didn't
But nope, the disaster struck our eyes when we realised that Underhill isn't like most league football grounds which have concourses, its a non-league ground in everything but name which can't sell alcohol because the tea hut is close to the pitch and all that, bollocks health and safety regulations blah blah blah. Chris really wasn't happy about it and was keen to remind me that I had ruined the day, which I could only apologize for. But it turned out to be a good thing that we had arrived inside the ground so early (around 2:15AM) as the 25 minutes or so before kick off became chaos for the travelling fans, with only 2 turnstiles open for such a large quantity of supporters which meant people were still coming into the ground well after kick off. So on the plus side we got to get a good space on the wide terrace and got to get something from the tea hut before the queues became ridiculously long. Yep, only one very small hut at the back of the stand was available for 1053 travelling supporters.
Aside from it being very poorly catered for larger away followings, I really enjoyed the surroundings at Underhill. It had the feel of a proper traditional football ground, if you are able to excuse some of its tinpot features. The away end featured half of the pitch wide terrace, with the other half being populated by home fans. Its a decent sized, compact terrace that makes for good atmosphere Then there is also this really strange small temporary stand consisting of 200ish seats behind the goal for away fans, which was pretty much full. The rest of the stand behind that goal is for home fans and is just a really small uncovered terrace. The other pitch side of the ground consists of three different sections; some more small uncovered terracing, a very old school decaying main stand with another small seated stand accompanying it. Then behind the other goal has their nicest seated stand of the ground, which I believe was only built in the past 5 years or so.
Its a ground that very much looks like it would be more suited in non-league surroundings but its one I very much enjoyed and its a real shame to hear it will be no more come the end of the season. We have actually played Barnet here during my time as a Dover fan; in an FA Trophy defeat during our run of the otherwise miserable 2003/04 campaign. We actually lost 3-2 on that occasion but were reinstated thanks to them fielding an illegible player. I remember being desperate and eager to travel to the game but this was in the days were there were no organized coach travel and I knew nobody, the only hope of getting to an away game was when a lift was advertised on the forum - hence why my first away game was randomly Stafford Rangers of all places. Instead that day I was at Deal Town's ground to watch our reserves.
The away section would [probably] have been vastly less populated on that January 2004 day though than this occasion with a very, very impressive turnout from the green army. Officially the away attendance was 1053, somewhat lower than it seemed and what me Chris and Doddy estimated at. Then again the home ends looked more populated than they usually do on the football league highlight show with optimism being renewed after the announcement that Edgar Davids has been appointed as player/coach, while a 2-2 draw away at much fancied Southend last week would also have been cause of hope, particularly against a Plymouth side that has struggled for goals and confidence (from reports I have read)..
I, myself was looking forward to the game and seeing what the players I play as on FIFA 13 are like in the real world, having not seen any of their players in the flesh other than Paris Cowan-Hall, signed from Woking in the summer.
Barnet fans didn't have to wait long before they would feel that all too familar sinking feeling, with them having not won a single game this season. It took just 2 minutes for Plymouth to take the lead from the spot after Luke Young was clumsily hauled down by Mark Byrne after advancing in on Cowan-Hall's cut-back. Rhys Griffiths duly dispatched the spot kick, only needing the first attempt after requiring a rebound versus AFC Milton Keynes Dons the previous week. He sent the familar Graham Stack the wrong way, with the ex Argyle keeper receiving a lot of stick in the second half.
And it wouldn't be too long before me, Chris and Doddy were going fucking ballistic in delight by celebrating another Plymouth goal on 11 minutes. It was the highly rated Frenchman defender Maxime Blanchard, who rose unmarked from a corner to powerfully head home in the corner. It became clear already that Barnet's defence was comically bad with more gaps than a Hillbillies teeth.
But Plymouth would also contribute some shocking defending of their own only 5 minutes later by failing to deal with the Bee's first corner and first attack of the game. The ball was floated in but not cleared properly which allowed Dale Stephen to half the decifit, which I felt goalkeeper Jake Cole could have done much better with.
Barnet would never ever look anywhere close to getting an equalizer though, instead Plymouth seeing out the rest of the first half comfortable in possession and with Cowan-Hall impressing me the most by causing all sort of problems out on the left wing. Another one of the more comical moments was Collins John (He's strong, he's fast, his surname should be last) going off injured barely 15 minutes into the match, limiting their already non existant attack even further.
Half-time came and I was really grateful for some tubby lard-arse bitch (pot, kettle black I know, but its now acceptable for fat people to take the piss out of each other apparently) squeezing into next to me on the terracing and leaving me with no option other than take a few steps back. Its a good job I'm
The second half continued in much the same vein as the first with Argyle on top, with manager Carl Fletcher having made a change at half-time by bringing on Argentine winger Gurrieri for the ineffective Guy Madjo. Rhys Griffiths gave Barnet a scare when he latched onto a comically underhit backpass only to round Stack and hit the ball wide from a tight angle, despite having time and another man in the centre. The miss was almost as shocking as the backpass. Being the pessimist I am I was convinced this miss would be the turning point and it wouldn't be Plymouth's day.
But it was only a matter of time before the lead would be increased, with the source coming from my man of the match Cowan-Hall, who leapt like a salmon to head home from a free-kick despite being of pretty small stature. It was a great leap and header but yet again underlined how poor the Barnet backline was. This was only moment after Gurrieri had pulled out a fine reflex save from Graham Stack that had looked destined for the net.
Plymouth looked even more assured from here onwards but on the rare occasion Barnet did attack Maxime Blanchard had to be alert to head a Krystan Pearce header off the line after what looked like some good wingplay by ex Chelmsford wideman Ricky Holmes.
Plymouth brought on another young winger late on in place of Burnley loanee Alex McDonald in the form of Joe Lennox, with the young lad who looked like something out of one direction causing plenty of problems with his pace and direct running. He had to be denied with a last ditch tackle after racing in on goal.
The fine win had to capped off into stoppage time though, this time courtesy of a 25 yard curled free-kick from Luke Young, another player who had a very good game. The ball bounced straight back out of the goal thanks to the inside stanction which made it look confusing, with most Plymouth fans only celebrating when the ball had been prodded in by Cowan-hall. but it was very much over the line.
It was quite funny that before this goal Doddy began filming on his phone as he had done with every previous set piece nearby. I turned and said to him "FFS Doddy, you're not going to capture a goal so just give up" and then bang, the ball went in and my famous last words were caught on video.
Overall Plymouth were the worthy victors and they seem to have quite a few good young players on their books who are capable of doing better than they currently are. Fair enough Barnet were a poor side but Plymouth looked so assured throughout the contest, minus one defensive cock up. Cowan-Hall certainly looks like he's good enough to adapt to league football while the central midfielders Hourihane and Young also very much impressed me and they're still both very young. Obviously I don't watch much League Two football but on the basis I'd be hopeful that they can stay well clear of the drop this time around.
Barnet however were pretty shocking throughout most of it and lack quality in all areas of the pitch. I probably shouldn't slag off their players too much with the amount of their cast offs that seem to join us (Nicky Nicolau, Elliot Charles, Joe Tabiri, Daniel Leach, Barry Cogan, Jason Norville, Ross Flitney, Guliano Grazioli and of course, a certain Adam Birchall) being amongst the ones I can name off the top of my head. But they looked completely out of their depth and I'd be very surprised if they complete their usual miraculous late escape from the drop that they usually do most years.
And a final note on atmosphere. This is the only part of the game I was a tad disappointed with, considering the vast amount of Plymouth fans in attendance who were enjoying an emphatic rare away win. Although they did sing for large periods of the match, they weren't very loud in voice and the songs were a bit repetitive. "Green Army" and "Arrrr-guyy-allllll" being the two most common ones but there were also quite a few several unfunny songs more aimed at taking the piss out of their opponents than concentrating on themselves. I found the "My garden shed is bigger than this" song fairly amusing when I first heard about it as a young teenager but several grown men singing it over and over again was just a bit lame and very unoriginal. It just felt a little bit flat and half-hearted, not like the pure gutso we give it if we're winning away on a Saturday. I was expecting to be moved a few places after scoring the goals on a pretty packed terrace but there wasn't the over celebrations that we do. I guess that's the problem with being a part of bigger fanbases. Less cohesion because not many people know each other which makes people feel less comfortable about looking like a twat around others.
But other than that Plymouth seemed like a nice, harmless bunch on the whole, although there were a few idiots that kept moaning even at 3-1 and I heard a few calls of "Fletcher out" although I'm not sure if they were being ironic or not. Also "how shit must you be, we're winning away" was one of their better songs, its the sort of self depreciating irony that I enjoy.
Just one more thing I would like to add on the game. It was quite weird watching a game relatively sober and fully concentrating on actually watching the play, noticing more of what is happening and who is playing well, etc. With no emotional attachment on the game I could watch it more relaxed. Well of course I was wanting Plymouth to win but it wasn't the be all and end all like it would have been with Dover.
We finally made our awaited arrival inside The Old Red Lion for a much needed pint of fizzy piss (fosters) in a pub swarmed with happy Argyle fans. We had to dash outside though because some heavily bearded old guy had clearly shat his pants (literally) so we drank outside instead. Christ, it wasn't half cold either. True proper winter weather has finally arrived which is the sort of weather I like for football games. At the actual game the weather had gone very erratic from blazing sunshine and having to watch the game through squinting, to a few spells of rain. But I'm looking forward to when it starts getting dark at half-time and we have to wear a scarf at every game.
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| Nice mug shot, Doddstopher. |
After one pint in here we SUCCESSFULLY walked back towards the station area having amazingly remembered the taxi route, thus setting up a customary visit to the delightful wetherspoons. Ok, snear at me all you want David and co but I am a very skint person and it was time for me to buy a round which meant that I wanted to spend as little as possible. And I was delightfully overwhelmed to only part with £6 for two carlsbergs and a strongbow. It was quite decent for a pint of piss actually, so much so that I drunk myself 2 pints in the same time that they had finished one.
We made our way via the 6.47 train to Kings Cross, having picked up 3 cans of Grolsch each from the off licence near the station. They werent down rather nicely for the train journey back Sadly we had a half hour wait at Pancakes because of a poor connection time but that allowed Chris to grab another burger king, Doddy to grab himself a McDonalds while I just offloaded a horrid dump in the cramped burger king bogs. And then I emotionally shaked Chris's hand goodbye having not washed mine.
Pretty dull journey back to Dover. Me and Dodd played the 'drink while you think' game with just footballers names which was pretty entertaining as we began to run out of players beginning with 'e', 'n' and 'u' as these letters seemed to be very common. How many players can you think of beginning with 'U' off the top of your head? Ugo Egiogu was the only one that sprang to mine and I also sneakily claimed Unwar Addin, even though its Anwar Uddin.
And Dodd also made me laugh when my Triple H text theme tune blared out to which he responded to impersonating the HHH water spit with beer which landed all over himself.
For anyone who's sad enough to not watch wrestling, hopefully that video above can shed some light for you.
We bumped into another Dover fan on the way home at Ashford, the high waisted Simon Cowell lookalikely that is Mark Moselyn, who had been off to watch Maidstone as part of that patronizing non-league wank day. They attained a near capacity crowd for that and seem to be doing well since finally moving back home. I like their supporters and hope they do well but we might have to watch our backs in the coming years.
My genuine intentions upon arriving back in Dover were this; Reluctantly see Champ in Wetherspoons for one or two pints before going home for a chinese takeaway. Typically it ended with about 8 fellow Dover fans singing karaoke in the Firkin and altering songs to Dover dittys, then throwing shapes on the Funky Monkey dancefloor all evening, before stumbling home at silly o'clock.
So overall it turned out to be a rather splendid day with all things considered. A good game to watch, a good ground to go to with reasonable pubs within the surroundings and had a few laughs along the way. Next time I find myself in the no-Dover game situation then I will consider another Plymouth day providing its at a ground I've not been to.
This Saturday brings our 4th Saturday home game on the bounce which is normally snore-tastic but it should be a good game against the early pacesetters in Salisbury City FC. I'm looking forward to it already and entertaining you with another brilliantly witty blog post on how Dover registered their 2nd home league win on the bounce.
BRING IT ON, BRING IT ON, TELL YOUR FRIENDS TO COME ALONG!
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