Well, how was it for you? There’s a lot to be said for simultaneous orgasms. Two and a half thousand people having them at the same time doesn’t so much feel like the earth moving as the fecker spiralling off into the cosmos.
One thing I hate about the second division (and there are lots – the fact it tries to disguise itself with stupid names doesn’t even make the top ten) is that is starts too early. The school holidays just start, you go on holiday and before you can get back this stupid bliddy league is off and running. So early August 2004, me, our lass and the three bairns were scouring the Black Hills of South Dakota in a campervan looking for an internet café, trying to find out how we were doing against Coventry. We did find one and it all seemed to be going OK (I have always claimed a league away draw is acceptable) when suddenly the internet started telling me things I didn’t want to hear. Damn, damn and damn. Fortunately that was to be the last away match I’d miss this season. Although there have been some blips, this has been a good season to be an away supporter. I thought it was wonderful getting promoted in front of a big crowd at the SoL. But it was nice that those who had traipsed up and down the country all season (and of course the seasons before that) got the Championship.
Two years ago we were playing at Maine Road. Man City fans have got it in their heads that they are the only fans that have had to put up with crap. I think we were already relegated but there was the usual good turnout. The disgraceful self-centred gits we had wearing the shirt were getting beat yet again. Bizarrely, the City fans were singing their usual “where were you when you were shit?” and we were shouting back over “we’re here man”. And here is where the away support has stayed. The numbers have remained remarkably strong and the passion from the heat of the Notts Forest game in August 2003 until friday night’s party has remained fantastic. It has been a privilege to be part of it.
Last Saturday against Leicester was amazing. We went into the match fearful that we could soon be no more than two points clear of third with only two games left. We came out as a Premier League team. I am fairly slow and I just can’t react that fast. I danced and celebrated as much as anyone but my brain was sending down messages asking: “what’s up? Are we up? Are we sure?”. By Friday I’d got comfortable with the notion and was ready to party. I got to the Denmark at about 5 on my own straight from work. There were already a fair few pissed SAFC supporters “giving it large” (as our cockney friends would put it). I thought “oh, no – this’ll end in tears”. In fact it was fine, as more SAFC supporters arrived, the antics of a few eejits got diluted down. However, as more people I knew were arriving I seemed to end up drinking at the pace of the fastest new arrival. All very good fun as for once I didn’t have the car. The noticeable thing was that every SAFC supporter seemed to have a fixed grin – promotion really is good for you.
You know most of the stuff about the game itself. Apparently we were poor in the first half but I thought we were OK. We stood the whole way through and I don’t remember many occasions when we weren’t singing. I’ve seen bits of the recording and the joyfulness of the atmosphere doesn’t come across at all – it really was great fun to be there. Alnwick made one superb save down our end – that lad has potential. Then right near the end Harewood tuned in the box and his shot jammily squirmed in off the post. Oh poo.
You will have heard from me many times how much better it is to have the lads scoring at our end and so this is what we had here. Early on Brown came challenging in towards the goaly and the ball came squirming over towards us. Arca and a defender chased together but Arca is a strong lad these days and the two of them just carried on into the net with the ball in front of them. I was at the end of a row with a metal pole sloping down between me and the aisle. I leapt as gazelle-like as I could and stood on the pole to shout words of endearment at Arca who had come running round the back of the net to celebrate with us. One thing you should know if you ever become an unathletic middle aged man is that the effect of said unathleticness, helped by gravity and the general slippiness of metal poles, is that your stay on them tends to be very short. I came crashing down and both my shins hit the seat in front (they are still absolutely nacking three days later). Fortunately my fall was broken by something soft. The something soft seemed to take it in good grace and helped me back to my feet by giving me a passionate hug. I would apologise to my fellow fans for my drunken uncontrolled behaviour but frankly I think mine was one of the more reserved celebrations – there were people going implausibly high up into the air and crashing back down all over the away end.
Well, this was all very good – but it wasn’t getting us the Championship. So on comes Steven Elliott to torment West Ham even further. Soon after he came on, he had a superb run in from the right and sent a low powerful shot, which the keeper got down to well only to send squirming backwards. Sadly it looked like it didn’t have enough spin to carry it in and the goaly got back in any case but everyone now knew what Elliott was capable of. Fortunately 11 of those who knew were powerless to stop him. As the clock ticked on and it was getting close to the end, the ball came to Elliott in the left channel in the box. He was well guarded but he spun and sent a cracking shot across goal and into the far side of the net. What ensured next made the celebrations for the first goal look like a bunch of prawn sandwich eaters applauding the winning of a throw in. We knew it was ours now. We’d done it under own steam – and come back from 1-0 down against one of this league’s stronger teams.
The final whistle saw the team stop having to be sensible and come over to join in the mass joy that was now the away end. A great night. A great season. A great recovery from the despair we’d been thrown into. One of the best things Mick has done for us is that he has made us love the players again. We’d always love SAFC. We can’t stop doing that. But it had become despite the players. As we danced along with the players at Upton Park we genuinely did love them.
And so off to Trafalgar Square and the Sports Bar at the Haymarket for more beer and more happy faces. A great night all round.
I’m looking forward to the full house at the Stoke game. Hopefully we can persuade a lot of them that coming along more regularly is worthwhile. Certainly we’ll need everyone’s support next season. I have no idea which of these players could cut it in the Premier or which players are realistic targets for us to strengthen the team. However, having seen what he has done in two years I have complete confidence in Mick McCarthy to give us happy days in the Premiership to rival this one.
Speak to you all next season.
