(no subject)
Apr. 20th, 2008 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eiffel_71With Michelle having told me last week that she'd be fine to give me a lift to the girls' game at Oxford City today, I rang her in mid-morning to confirm with her when the meet-up was. She delivered the sobering reply that she was working today, having been called in at the last minute, so wouldn't be coming. A phone call to Lisa yielded only the news that she was tied up with their ongoing house move so would yet again be missing the trip, and didn't have a blind clue whether anyone would have car space for me. Nor did Trevor, who was optimistic that they'd be able to squeeze me in somewhere but couldn't promise that I wouldn't be left stranded in Havant. Their meetup was to be at 1.30 - thanks to wretched replacement buses from Didcot to Oxford, too late for me to get a train to the game should it be necessary - so my only safe option was to head straight over to Portsmouth right away, call at Ken's Kebabs for an early lunch and hop on the 12.37 train. (The match was kicking off at 5.30, thanks to the pitch being needed for a men's local cup final earlier in the afternoon.)
The trip went smoothly - I even had time for a latte with an Irish cream syrup shot at Guildford - and I made it to Oxford just after 3.15. Nearly an hour to relax in the station with a Cafe Maya, a toffee waffle and Non-League Today. Oxford station was crawling with students, one of whom, a young lady, was sitting opposite me and asked why I was placing my waffle in the top of my coffee cup. I explained that the coffee bar recommends placing it there for a minute to melt the toffee. "I never heard of that. You learn something new every day," was her reply.
Bus out to the Oxford City football ground. Simon was out on the pitch laying out cones. Becky and Rosie were in the bar keeping watch on Sky Sports News for updates on Portsmouth's game at Man City. The bar served Marston's beers, so I bought a pint of Smooth Creamy then joined the girls. Becky asked how I'd got there.
"Train."
"Oh, you should have come with us. Trevor's got acres of space in his car."
Rosie asked if I follow the Hawks men home and away as well as the women. When I replied yes, she said "It must cost you a fortune." You're not kidding, madam.
They said they'd had a nightmare drive there, with Billie driving around the area four times before she found the ground. Before long Trevor appeared and joined us, and told us about how, with Lisa absent, instead of taking on the job of assigning players their numbers himself Rob had delegated it to Jo, who'd unthinkingly deprived several players of their favoured shirts. The girls concerned had moaned, but accepted Jo's numbering.
Hawks took the lead through Kelly after a minute, then in the 4th minute conceded an equaliser when all the defence stood still like statues. Major tension for the next 20 minutes - my yells of 'C'mon the Hawks' and similar rallying cries took on a new urgency - and frustration gripped me as time and time again our girls got the ball into the box only to hit it straight at the goalie or pass to a defender. Jodie came to the rescue with two well-taken goals to send us in at half-time 3-1 ahead. She completed her hat-trick after the break then Lisa Cooper made it nap in the 89th minute.
I was sat in the centre of the little stand, with Becky and Rosie a few seats along from me. Down at one end were several young local chavs, who arsed about all game, especially one loud male specimen who posed about like a baboon, sometimes at pitchside, sometimes in the stand. They exhorted their players "Take her out" a few times when one of ours was going forward with the ball, and when Claire was on the ground being seen to after getting a whack in the face they yelled "She's faking it." For much of the match they mockingly imitated Becky's, Rosie's and my shouts of encouragement, but once or twice they actually started verbal exchanges with us - Becky gave back as good as we got, with interest. Ape-man and one of his chums ran up and down by the touchline, chucking Lucozade bottles on the ground as they went, towards the end, prompting Becky to remark "They're out on day release."
"From the zoo," I added.
We had to walk past the monkey house on our way to the clubhouse at half-time and after the game, but apart from my getting a slow hand-clap with grunts as I returned to my seat from the start of the second half, that got no reaction.
Job done, just two more wins needed from our last three games to secure promotion. Into the clubhouse for a pint of Pedigree. Everybody was happy enough with the performance. Jodie was deservedly voted Man of the Match, but also picked up Dick of the Day for a moment when she kicked the ball and hit herself in the face with it. Dick urged me on to help myself from the buffet; I waited until all the players had taken their share then filled up my plate with a sesame cheese roll, little sausages, sausage rolls and ring-shaped onion potato snacks. Then Jenna D handed me her two leftover sausage rolls: that left me stuffed.
Penny and Kelly offered me a lift home, which I happily accepted, but Trev stepped in and said he'd take me as he was going to Fareham anyway to drop Dick off, while the girls would have been going out of their way. "Thanks anyway," I said, while Rob quipped that I was spoilt for choice.
Trevor had found an Oxford radio station called Jack FM : they played pretty good music. When we lost the signal around Newbury he put a Bruce Springsteen compilation on at full volume.
Glad I'm on lates tomorrow.
The trip went smoothly - I even had time for a latte with an Irish cream syrup shot at Guildford - and I made it to Oxford just after 3.15. Nearly an hour to relax in the station with a Cafe Maya, a toffee waffle and Non-League Today. Oxford station was crawling with students, one of whom, a young lady, was sitting opposite me and asked why I was placing my waffle in the top of my coffee cup. I explained that the coffee bar recommends placing it there for a minute to melt the toffee. "I never heard of that. You learn something new every day," was her reply.
Bus out to the Oxford City football ground. Simon was out on the pitch laying out cones. Becky and Rosie were in the bar keeping watch on Sky Sports News for updates on Portsmouth's game at Man City. The bar served Marston's beers, so I bought a pint of Smooth Creamy then joined the girls. Becky asked how I'd got there.
"Train."
"Oh, you should have come with us. Trevor's got acres of space in his car."
Rosie asked if I follow the Hawks men home and away as well as the women. When I replied yes, she said "It must cost you a fortune." You're not kidding, madam.
They said they'd had a nightmare drive there, with Billie driving around the area four times before she found the ground. Before long Trevor appeared and joined us, and told us about how, with Lisa absent, instead of taking on the job of assigning players their numbers himself Rob had delegated it to Jo, who'd unthinkingly deprived several players of their favoured shirts. The girls concerned had moaned, but accepted Jo's numbering.
Hawks took the lead through Kelly after a minute, then in the 4th minute conceded an equaliser when all the defence stood still like statues. Major tension for the next 20 minutes - my yells of 'C'mon the Hawks' and similar rallying cries took on a new urgency - and frustration gripped me as time and time again our girls got the ball into the box only to hit it straight at the goalie or pass to a defender. Jodie came to the rescue with two well-taken goals to send us in at half-time 3-1 ahead. She completed her hat-trick after the break then Lisa Cooper made it nap in the 89th minute.
I was sat in the centre of the little stand, with Becky and Rosie a few seats along from me. Down at one end were several young local chavs, who arsed about all game, especially one loud male specimen who posed about like a baboon, sometimes at pitchside, sometimes in the stand. They exhorted their players "Take her out" a few times when one of ours was going forward with the ball, and when Claire was on the ground being seen to after getting a whack in the face they yelled "She's faking it." For much of the match they mockingly imitated Becky's, Rosie's and my shouts of encouragement, but once or twice they actually started verbal exchanges with us - Becky gave back as good as we got, with interest. Ape-man and one of his chums ran up and down by the touchline, chucking Lucozade bottles on the ground as they went, towards the end, prompting Becky to remark "They're out on day release."
"From the zoo," I added.
We had to walk past the monkey house on our way to the clubhouse at half-time and after the game, but apart from my getting a slow hand-clap with grunts as I returned to my seat from the start of the second half, that got no reaction.
Job done, just two more wins needed from our last three games to secure promotion. Into the clubhouse for a pint of Pedigree. Everybody was happy enough with the performance. Jodie was deservedly voted Man of the Match, but also picked up Dick of the Day for a moment when she kicked the ball and hit herself in the face with it. Dick urged me on to help myself from the buffet; I waited until all the players had taken their share then filled up my plate with a sesame cheese roll, little sausages, sausage rolls and ring-shaped onion potato snacks. Then Jenna D handed me her two leftover sausage rolls: that left me stuffed.
Penny and Kelly offered me a lift home, which I happily accepted, but Trev stepped in and said he'd take me as he was going to Fareham anyway to drop Dick off, while the girls would have been going out of their way. "Thanks anyway," I said, while Rob quipped that I was spoilt for choice.
Trevor had found an Oxford radio station called Jack FM : they played pretty good music. When we lost the signal around Newbury he put a Bruce Springsteen compilation on at full volume.
Glad I'm on lates tomorrow.
