First Day of the Season

by Bob Chagrin


After an evening in some poncey pub where a decent local used to be, spending half the time trying to clamber over the massive arses in there and the rest working through pints of Staropramen I woke up in a horrible sweat and a feeling that the local council were empting the bins in my skull. What the hell do they put in that stuff? I might as well just ask the barman for a lemonade and a couple of digs to the back of the head.

But it didn’t matter today, the pre-season optimism was flushing the alcohol from my veins as I breezed into Wycombe and made a beeline to that little trailer at the end of the High Street.

What culinary delights could they serve up today? Sea bass studded with truffles? A whole black truffle wrapped in foie gras? Lobster with ceps? Not today thanks, a round of sausage, bacon and egg bloomers would be just the ticket.

There was an obvious feel good factor in tropical High Wycombe, Sport & Ski were having a closing down sale, Spicy Cuisine was being reopened as KEBABWORLD at an all day ceremony and the pedestrianisation of the town centre was clearly paying dividends as the winos outside The Falcon ordered fish bowls and a bottle of factor 8. I got my chops round the sarnie, which turned into one beautiful mucky mess as the egg yolk broke all over the crispy roll.

A couple of looseners then off to the ground where a fresh fixture card was slipped into my palm, the newly installed megatron was glimmering in the sunshine reeling off an old Lovejoy video, the pitch was sparkling and the 30 or so Accrington fans that had travelled down began a full repertoire of Liverpool songs. We were all high on hope.

For the first few minutes we were class, just keeping possession and stroking the ball around with some positive intention. Whispers on the terrace turned to nods of approval. The formation looked good too - two wingers, a big man and a sly man up front, Holt anchoring the midfield and Torres working tirelessly to receive and spread the ball. Apart from that I had no idea who half our players were so for the first time in 20 odd years I had to buy a programme and looking through the list I couldn’t help but think that some of these could be real heroes by the end of the season. Maybe that Shearer, he’s got nice tan.

The good football didn’t last long though, Accrington began to stifle us and the movement from our midfield slowed and slowed and slowed resulting in pointless long balls and hopeful chips forward as Sutton and McGleish were reduced to chasing down defenders. But then a break, a loose ball in the box which fell to Sutton, from a couple of yards out it just needed to go anywhere but straight at the keeper. It went straight at the keeper. If he’d shanked it slightly we’d have been one up. Instead, as the first half wore on we continued to run out of ideas and movement.

Bullock looked, apart from much smaller that I remember, quite lively and linked up well a few times with Stockley but on the other side very little was coming down the left, which was a shame as Sutton looks like the sort of player who needs balls into the box. There seemed little point in having wide men if they weren’t going to be used properly or indeed playing Sutton at all if he’s not going to get the sort of service he needs.

At the back McCraken looked shaky and slightly nervous when the ball came to him but Johnson looked decent. Seemed solid, didn’t mind the ball at his feet or sticking his foot into a tackle, although it was slightly disappointing that a central defender began to stand out as one of the best players.

Set pieces were not good, none of our corners really threatened (no change there then), an indirect free-kick was poorly worked and easily charged down by their wall and Bullock flighted one a couple of feet over the bar when surely a ball whipped in from a left foot would have caused more danger.

Then Accrington scored. A really odd moment in fact. As they floated in a corner the penalty box fell silent, no shout from any of our lot as Mullin flicked his bonce at the near post and nodded in a very, very easy goal in almost total silence. Stanley celebrated while Woodman tried to make up for his shyness at the corner by shouting pointlessly at the linesman.

Time to regroup. For those in the stands Half time welcomed the 562nd meeting of some primary school v another one in a pointless game of toe punt the ball at the fat kid from 4 yards.

I’m not going to lie I was getting narky now, the irritations of modern life are well documented – people who ask for your postcode when going to a football match; people who say ‘Easy Geez’ when actually they mean ‘Hello’ and now this new half-time master of ceremonies presumably headhunted as part of the new dumbing down of the ‘Matchday Experience’.

I never thought I would genuinely miss Hutchinson but having to listen to this wannabe kids TV presenter vomiting in my ears nearly had me out the gate. Even when Jermaine Easter came on to do the 50/50 draw surely there was time for a couple of quick and easy questions. “Are you looking forward to getting back playing” or “How was the summer? Been anywhere nice?” Sadly he thought he could please the crowd more by trying to have some banter with a man in fucking foam costume.

As for the second half It would be uncouth to get into too much detail and I’m really trying to refrain from getting sucked into too much analysis after just one game but as it blurred into one steaming pile of static gash only one thought entered my totally deflated mind – if the season goes on like this we’ll be needing something with a bigger punch on a Friday night.

13.08.2007. 16:29

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