As stated by the friendly Spurs fans we got chatting to on the train heading home from the game, I'm stark raving bonkers. Clinically insane even. Scientifically, economically, politically, mental. The accusation came after we'd discussed some of my weirder adventures in the lower echelons of Eastern European football, and to be honest, they're not wrong. There's a few of us knocking about, but not many adventurous enough to travel the breadth of the continent for a game of football.
In my defence, and I say to everybody that asks, my adventures consist of things other than just watching 90 minutes of football. There's a phrase that's been doing the rounds for a number of years, and it goes something along the lines of;
'A great day out, ruined by 90 minutes'.
There isn't a truer saying in world football. There's more to this hobby than just watching games of football. Of course, that's the principal goal, but it's also the people you meet, the laughs you have, the experiences and stories that you gain, as well as ending up in places you otherwise wouldn't have known existed. That's what does it for me.
In my defence, and I say to everybody that asks, my adventures consist of things other than just watching 90 minutes of football. There's a phrase that's been doing the rounds for a number of years, and it goes something along the lines of;
'A great day out, ruined by 90 minutes'.
There isn't a truer saying in world football. There's more to this hobby than just watching games of football. Of course, that's the principal goal, but it's also the people you meet, the laughs you have, the experiences and stories that you gain, as well as ending up in places you otherwise wouldn't have known existed. That's what does it for me.
Perhaps then, that's how I ended up spending one of my Saturday's in Luton. Let's be honest, you're not going to go there for any other reason. Other than the picture above, I'm not going to deface the credibility of this blog with photos of the place. The town doesn't deserve any. It is a dump, a real dump.
James, a fairly regular feature on these pages, hates himself so much that he supports Notts County, so naturally I said I'd join him on an away day somewhere. That somewhere happened to be Luton, and we arrived in the town just before 1. Luton is grim. Really grim. The first two pubs we came across had large banners asking for customers to be home fans only, and so after a brief McDonalds pitstop, we instead decided to make our way over to the ground and hide in the concourse instead. I didn't want to be anywhere other than the ground truthfully.
James, a fairly regular feature on these pages, hates himself so much that he supports Notts County, so naturally I said I'd join him on an away day somewhere. That somewhere happened to be Luton, and we arrived in the town just before 1. Luton is grim. Really grim. The first two pubs we came across had large banners asking for customers to be home fans only, and so after a brief McDonalds pitstop, we instead decided to make our way over to the ground and hide in the concourse instead. I didn't want to be anywhere other than the ground truthfully.
We arrived at the ground at just gone 2, and marvelled at the away entrance. It's built into the terraced houses along the street, and it's true, you do indeed go through people's gardens to reach the seating area. Certainly something I've never experienced before, and will likely not experience again. With an hour or so to kill, it was into the bar, which itself is a quaint affair, just two lads behind a hatch with a couple of beer pumps and a hot cabinet with some Pukka Pies in it.
Certainly one Notts fan was still dumbfounded at what he'd just witnessed coming through the turnstiles, as soon after buying his pint, he decided to turn around and stack it over what was a deceptively flat piece of flooring, almost completely going arse over tit as the six of us in the bar at the time watched on in bewilderment.
Certainly one Notts fan was still dumbfounded at what he'd just witnessed coming through the turnstiles, as soon after buying his pint, he decided to turn around and stack it over what was a deceptively flat piece of flooring, almost completely going arse over tit as the six of us in the bar at the time watched on in bewilderment.
I might as well start by putting it straight out in the open. I love Kenilworth Road. All four sides are different to one another, you're right up close to the pitch no matter where you sit, and there's even a touchline full of greenhouses for the directors to plonk themselves whilst munching their prawn sandwiches. I've heard murmurs over the last week or so that it's a bit of a dump, and yeah it is, but damn it is it beautiful. The club haven't yet sold out to a 30,000 bowl, and I can only lavish praise on them for that. Kenilworth Road is a proper football ground without a shadow of a doubt.
County fans were nervous before the game, but they were certainly cheered at the end of the 90 minutes following their 2-0 victory. The bar was full of questions about their new manager's choice of starting XI, but it seemed to work. Even old boy Alan Sheehan got the ball rolling with his tidy finish in the wrong net to send the Northerners wild. Jon Stead's wonderful run and finish capped off a rugged performance, and saw me dragged into a hug with about 7 other people in the same row as me.
County fans were nervous before the game, but they were certainly cheered at the end of the 90 minutes following their 2-0 victory. The bar was full of questions about their new manager's choice of starting XI, but it seemed to work. Even old boy Alan Sheehan got the ball rolling with his tidy finish in the wrong net to send the Northerners wild. Jon Stead's wonderful run and finish capped off a rugged performance, and saw me dragged into a hug with about 7 other people in the same row as me.
There was a big recruitment drive before the game and thankfully I was signed up in time for the fixture. My day's loan with Notts County was a resounding success, and I'm pleased to say I was on hand to help the side back with a vital three points. It's a shame my presence doesn't provide similar results down at Bashley Road really... Thanks to James then for dragging me along for what turned into an excellent day. I love Kenilworth Road, but as aforementioned, it's a real shame that it's located in the town that it is. What an absolute hole of a place. Cheers! Sheridan |