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My foot gave me gyp last week (suspected gout attack). The pain was on the wane last Saturday as I headed for London last Saturday for Clapton CFC's away game with FC Soma, a historic occasion - my 400th ground.
Soma play at the Bannister Sports Centre in Harrow, apparently Roger Bannister's local athletics track back in the day. A digital style rendering of 3:59.4 was printed on the wall of the little reception office. There were, alas, no refreshments on offer pre-match, but there was a decent-sized room with benches to sit on. We were surprised to be charged to get to the centre's football pitch; clubs in our league usually grant free admission, though at CCFC home games we do invite voluntary donations on the gate. It later emerged that Soma don't usually charge for admission and that it was the sports centre owners' idea to make a few bob from our travelling support.
The pitch was a 3G in a cage with hardstanding along one long side for spectators. My gammy foot wasn't up to standing all afternoon, but thankfully there were folding chairs in the waiting room so I borrowed one for the duration of the game. I was met at the pitch by Simon, one of the Soma people, who'd seen on Twitter that it was my 400th ground. He congratulated me, was impressed that I travel from Portsmouth to watch CCFC regularly home and away, and took a photo of me to mention in their club newsletter.
Paul also congratulated me on my quadruple century. I set up my chair in a fairly central spot that allowed me to watch the match through a space at the top of the perimeter fence. Arthur Wright gave Tons the lead in the first half with a glorious looper over the goalie, but Soma equalised with a deflection just before the break.
The home team had set up a refreshment table in the corner by the entrance to the pitch. I went for an excellent slice of chocolate cake. Soma went in front just after the restart and, despite an end-to-end second half, held on for the win, taking the upper hand in the title race. After applauding our lads off, I said my goodbyes to our fans - Paul said "sorry it wasn't a great game for your milestone" - and went to return the folding chair.
Made a wrong turning walking back to the tube station. After retracing my steps onto the main road, I met a group of our fans walking along and followed them. It wasn't long before we were going along roads unfamiliar to me, but soon we entered a street called Headstone Lane and I realised we were going to Headstone Lane tube instead of Hatch End. To bed as soon as I arrived back home, with an early start next morning.
Was on the ferry at 7 am Sunday, on my way to Bedford for CCFC's historic Women's FA Cup first round tie. Reached the ground in plenty of time. One of the Bedford Ladies people asked me how many we were expecting to bring: I said "about 100"...
I sat back in the clubhouse with a lemonade (was still off the sauce in case my foot trouble was gout). Other Tons fans arrived and steadily filled the place. Some of the Brigata joined me at my table. We watched Everton Women v Man Utd Women on the big screens. Hearing I'd have to take a bus back to Bedford after the match and then walk from the bus station to the train station, some of the guys asked if a lift back to Stratford in East London after the game would help me out. I accepted, since Stratford has a direct tube connection to Waterloo.
In the ground there were 400 Tons fans, packing out the covered terrace at one end of the stand and gathered behind one of the goals. With my foot still giving me some gyp I went in the seats, surrounded by Bedford kids, who, fair play to them, gave their own team plenty of vocal support. All game, though, the ground rang to the songs of the Clapton faithful.
Soon after kick-off, the Tons broke away, Emily Link hit the post and Marta Boiro was on hand to slot home the rebound to have our contingent in dreamland. In our goal Polly Adams made some super saves to keep us in front. The CCFC defence soaked up the pressure until the stroke of half time, when a Bedford forward broke into the box and neatly sidefooted home an equaliser. She celebrated with a Harry Maguire knee slide and cupped her ear to the Tons fans on the terrace...who obliged her with a loud chorus of We Are The Clapton.
By then, I was standing by the tea hatch, in the middle of a 30-plus minute marathon waiting for my ordered vegeburger and chips and bottle of water. It seemed that somewhere along the way the catering ladies just forgot about my order until a home fan in the queue pointed out how long I'd been stood there. My order finally arrived with the tea hut lady apologising. On the bright side, the tea hatch was at the back of the terrace housing our vocal fans, so I got to experience being in proximity to them for an appreciable section of the game.
Back at my seat, I took one bite of my vegeburger to find it stone cold. I dumped it in a litter bin in disgust. At least the chips were tasty.
And there was still a classic cup tie to watch. Clapton dominated the first 25 minutes of the second half, Maria Mendonca dancing through the bewildered Bedford defence before unleashing a shot that the keeper saved. Bedford's cocky striker started to turn the screw, leading forays into our end.
As darkness fell and the floodlights came on, Claudio brought on Camila Marcolino and Ana Holmes, who made vigorous advances down the wings and pinned Bedford back. It remained 1-1 at the final whistle.
The Tons went all out in extra time while Bedford too continued to battle. Polly made another amazing save. Mim Chadwick made a smashing tackle on a Bedford player in our box and zinged the ball down the wing to Emily Link, who burst into the Bedford area and was brought down. The ref waved play on and the ball ran to Li Steiner whose shot fizzed just the wrong side of the post. Li struck again in the second period, breaking up a Bedford move and threading through for Emily who shot over the bar.
Marcolino had a shot saved; the Bedford striker went one-on-one with Annie Lyons, who dispossessed her as coolly as you like.
With a minute left in extra time Lenny Holmes hared into the area and dinked the ball past the Bedford keeper intending to round her. The keeper brought her down. The referee appeared to point to the spot at first, but then spoke to the lineslady and, to all our fans' utter disbelief, gave Bedford an uncontested drop ball. Later conspiracy theories abounded online: the size and vocality of our fan base is an outlier in our class of football, so officials can lean to giving decisions against us to demonstrate that they're not swayed by our large and noisy support.
Whatever the whys and wherefores, the tie was going to penalties.
Bedford scored, Camila scored. 1-1.
Bedford scored, Emily hit the post. 2-1 Bedford. My heart sank. Our day to remember was going to end in heartbreak. I bowed my head momentarily then looked up in time for the next kick.
The young Bedford girls around me gave me funny looks for chanting "Come on Polly, come on Polly" as their third penalty-taker prepared to shoot. Polly saved it! Annie Lyons buried hers in the bottom left corner. 2-2.
Bedford's fourth penalty taker ballooned over. Lucy Spours went for a cheeky Panenka; the keeper got a hand to it but spilled it into the net. 3-2 Clapton. Dare to dream?
Bedford scored. Clapton captain Alice Nutman strode resolutely to the penalty spot. Was she going to etch her name in CCFC folklore?
She did. She blasted the ball to the keeper's right and it billowed the goalnet. She was immediately engulfed in a sea of her dancing team-mates.
I rushed down from the stand to go and join the Brigata behind the goal. On my way there, a few of our players passed along the touchline and high fived me and other Tons fans.
The Brigata were singing lustily about going to Wembley. I joined in. The players came over and sang the call-and-response der-der to the Yankee Doodle tune with us. Then they came up to the touchline and high fived everyone standing at the front.
Our fans were buzzing. "That game had everything," I said to a group, summing up the general consensus. A few people asked when the big clubs enter. I was able to fill them in: the second tier teams enter in the third round, then the Super League teams in the fourth. "Two more wins before we can play Arsenal, then," one fan quipped. I replied "But just one before we can get Liverpool. They're in the second division."
On the coach back, the guy sat in front of me kept starting Clapton songs. I joined in but only a handful of others did. The disappointed songleader kept shouting "Did we win or lose the game?" We ended up in a traffic jam - wiping out any time advantage I'd got from catching a lift - and the songleader yelled "God has stuck us in traffic to give us time to SING!!"
We disembarked outside Stratford station and I headed straight for the Jubilee Line. Happily one of Waterloo's eateries was still open. Home and straight to bed.
Was buzzing for the second round draw all day Monday. The announcement came : Hounslow away. They're a third tier team, but are losing handsomely in the league every week. Maybe, just maybe, we can dream about a miracle?...
Tuesday morning I was driving to work when a child shot out in front of me from a cycleway. I swerved to avoid him and went straight into a lamp post. A man and a lady appeared to both offer themselves as witnesses that I didn't do anything wrong. I gladly accepted their names, addresses and contact numbers. The lady lived in our street and knew my family. My car was well bashed in at the front with the radiator busted. The LV breakdown man arrived in half an hour, loaded my car onto a ramp at the back of his van and drove it out to the garage after I'd let them know we were coming, then dropped me off at work. At least no-one got hurt.
Soma play at the Bannister Sports Centre in Harrow, apparently Roger Bannister's local athletics track back in the day. A digital style rendering of 3:59.4 was printed on the wall of the little reception office. There were, alas, no refreshments on offer pre-match, but there was a decent-sized room with benches to sit on. We were surprised to be charged to get to the centre's football pitch; clubs in our league usually grant free admission, though at CCFC home games we do invite voluntary donations on the gate. It later emerged that Soma don't usually charge for admission and that it was the sports centre owners' idea to make a few bob from our travelling support.
The pitch was a 3G in a cage with hardstanding along one long side for spectators. My gammy foot wasn't up to standing all afternoon, but thankfully there were folding chairs in the waiting room so I borrowed one for the duration of the game. I was met at the pitch by Simon, one of the Soma people, who'd seen on Twitter that it was my 400th ground. He congratulated me, was impressed that I travel from Portsmouth to watch CCFC regularly home and away, and took a photo of me to mention in their club newsletter.
Paul also congratulated me on my quadruple century. I set up my chair in a fairly central spot that allowed me to watch the match through a space at the top of the perimeter fence. Arthur Wright gave Tons the lead in the first half with a glorious looper over the goalie, but Soma equalised with a deflection just before the break.
The home team had set up a refreshment table in the corner by the entrance to the pitch. I went for an excellent slice of chocolate cake. Soma went in front just after the restart and, despite an end-to-end second half, held on for the win, taking the upper hand in the title race. After applauding our lads off, I said my goodbyes to our fans - Paul said "sorry it wasn't a great game for your milestone" - and went to return the folding chair.
Made a wrong turning walking back to the tube station. After retracing my steps onto the main road, I met a group of our fans walking along and followed them. It wasn't long before we were going along roads unfamiliar to me, but soon we entered a street called Headstone Lane and I realised we were going to Headstone Lane tube instead of Hatch End. To bed as soon as I arrived back home, with an early start next morning.
Was on the ferry at 7 am Sunday, on my way to Bedford for CCFC's historic Women's FA Cup first round tie. Reached the ground in plenty of time. One of the Bedford Ladies people asked me how many we were expecting to bring: I said "about 100"...
I sat back in the clubhouse with a lemonade (was still off the sauce in case my foot trouble was gout). Other Tons fans arrived and steadily filled the place. Some of the Brigata joined me at my table. We watched Everton Women v Man Utd Women on the big screens. Hearing I'd have to take a bus back to Bedford after the match and then walk from the bus station to the train station, some of the guys asked if a lift back to Stratford in East London after the game would help me out. I accepted, since Stratford has a direct tube connection to Waterloo.
In the ground there were 400 Tons fans, packing out the covered terrace at one end of the stand and gathered behind one of the goals. With my foot still giving me some gyp I went in the seats, surrounded by Bedford kids, who, fair play to them, gave their own team plenty of vocal support. All game, though, the ground rang to the songs of the Clapton faithful.
Soon after kick-off, the Tons broke away, Emily Link hit the post and Marta Boiro was on hand to slot home the rebound to have our contingent in dreamland. In our goal Polly Adams made some super saves to keep us in front. The CCFC defence soaked up the pressure until the stroke of half time, when a Bedford forward broke into the box and neatly sidefooted home an equaliser. She celebrated with a Harry Maguire knee slide and cupped her ear to the Tons fans on the terrace...who obliged her with a loud chorus of We Are The Clapton.
By then, I was standing by the tea hatch, in the middle of a 30-plus minute marathon waiting for my ordered vegeburger and chips and bottle of water. It seemed that somewhere along the way the catering ladies just forgot about my order until a home fan in the queue pointed out how long I'd been stood there. My order finally arrived with the tea hut lady apologising. On the bright side, the tea hatch was at the back of the terrace housing our vocal fans, so I got to experience being in proximity to them for an appreciable section of the game.
Back at my seat, I took one bite of my vegeburger to find it stone cold. I dumped it in a litter bin in disgust. At least the chips were tasty.
And there was still a classic cup tie to watch. Clapton dominated the first 25 minutes of the second half, Maria Mendonca dancing through the bewildered Bedford defence before unleashing a shot that the keeper saved. Bedford's cocky striker started to turn the screw, leading forays into our end.
As darkness fell and the floodlights came on, Claudio brought on Camila Marcolino and Ana Holmes, who made vigorous advances down the wings and pinned Bedford back. It remained 1-1 at the final whistle.
The Tons went all out in extra time while Bedford too continued to battle. Polly made another amazing save. Mim Chadwick made a smashing tackle on a Bedford player in our box and zinged the ball down the wing to Emily Link, who burst into the Bedford area and was brought down. The ref waved play on and the ball ran to Li Steiner whose shot fizzed just the wrong side of the post. Li struck again in the second period, breaking up a Bedford move and threading through for Emily who shot over the bar.
Marcolino had a shot saved; the Bedford striker went one-on-one with Annie Lyons, who dispossessed her as coolly as you like.
With a minute left in extra time Lenny Holmes hared into the area and dinked the ball past the Bedford keeper intending to round her. The keeper brought her down. The referee appeared to point to the spot at first, but then spoke to the lineslady and, to all our fans' utter disbelief, gave Bedford an uncontested drop ball. Later conspiracy theories abounded online: the size and vocality of our fan base is an outlier in our class of football, so officials can lean to giving decisions against us to demonstrate that they're not swayed by our large and noisy support.
Whatever the whys and wherefores, the tie was going to penalties.
Bedford scored, Camila scored. 1-1.
Bedford scored, Emily hit the post. 2-1 Bedford. My heart sank. Our day to remember was going to end in heartbreak. I bowed my head momentarily then looked up in time for the next kick.
The young Bedford girls around me gave me funny looks for chanting "Come on Polly, come on Polly" as their third penalty-taker prepared to shoot. Polly saved it! Annie Lyons buried hers in the bottom left corner. 2-2.
Bedford's fourth penalty taker ballooned over. Lucy Spours went for a cheeky Panenka; the keeper got a hand to it but spilled it into the net. 3-2 Clapton. Dare to dream?
Bedford scored. Clapton captain Alice Nutman strode resolutely to the penalty spot. Was she going to etch her name in CCFC folklore?
She did. She blasted the ball to the keeper's right and it billowed the goalnet. She was immediately engulfed in a sea of her dancing team-mates.
I rushed down from the stand to go and join the Brigata behind the goal. On my way there, a few of our players passed along the touchline and high fived me and other Tons fans.
The Brigata were singing lustily about going to Wembley. I joined in. The players came over and sang the call-and-response der-der to the Yankee Doodle tune with us. Then they came up to the touchline and high fived everyone standing at the front.
Our fans were buzzing. "That game had everything," I said to a group, summing up the general consensus. A few people asked when the big clubs enter. I was able to fill them in: the second tier teams enter in the third round, then the Super League teams in the fourth. "Two more wins before we can play Arsenal, then," one fan quipped. I replied "But just one before we can get Liverpool. They're in the second division."
On the coach back, the guy sat in front of me kept starting Clapton songs. I joined in but only a handful of others did. The disappointed songleader kept shouting "Did we win or lose the game?" We ended up in a traffic jam - wiping out any time advantage I'd got from catching a lift - and the songleader yelled "God has stuck us in traffic to give us time to SING!!"
We disembarked outside Stratford station and I headed straight for the Jubilee Line. Happily one of Waterloo's eateries was still open. Home and straight to bed.
Was buzzing for the second round draw all day Monday. The announcement came : Hounslow away. They're a third tier team, but are losing handsomely in the league every week. Maybe, just maybe, we can dream about a miracle?...
Tuesday morning I was driving to work when a child shot out in front of me from a cycleway. I swerved to avoid him and went straight into a lamp post. A man and a lady appeared to both offer themselves as witnesses that I didn't do anything wrong. I gladly accepted their names, addresses and contact numbers. The lady lived in our street and knew my family. My car was well bashed in at the front with the radiator busted. The LV breakdown man arrived in half an hour, loaded my car onto a ramp at the back of his van and drove it out to the garage after I'd let them know we were coming, then dropped me off at work. At least no-one got hurt.
