Train In Vain

[eiffel_71]

To Motspur Park on Sunday for Atletico’s Capital Cup quarter-final at Fulham. Arrived in plenty of time. It was pouring with rain. I arrived at the Fulham FC training ground to be told by a friendly lady that doors wouldn’t open until 1 pm. I said I’d go and find somewhere to get something to eat and the lady recommended the pub just by the train station.

So I retraced my steps to the Earl Beatty. Happily, they had Paulaner Weißbier on. I went on the Greene King app and all the Sunday roasts were showing as out of stock, so I ordered a buttermilk chicken burger with a side of onion rings.

Nicola, a dear e-pal of mine, posted in a WhatsApp group chat we’re in and some of us chatted for a little while, and then I messaged her off-group and we exchanged private messages for a brief spell. With my spirits having been sagging since Friday evening, she provided a real tonic.

My chicken burger was excellent, though I was chagrined to see the couple at the next table get served Sunday turkey roasts.

I wandered back to the training ground - still in the rain - and was shown by the same lady to a path that led to the main pitch.

The teams were warming up. Beyond the stand, on the side of the pitch where Atleti were, a dropped channel ran along the ground to the corner where the players transited between the pitch and the dressing rooms. However, a steward said no-one was allowed to stand in the channel, so I had to shout to the girls from pitchside further up.

In the stand I found a group of ladies supporting Atleti and went to sit with them. Early on Atleti took the game to their opponents from one league higher, and Rea won the ball in the final third and perfectly fed Brooke Haylock. Brooke’s shot looked like it was over the line before the keeper gathered the ball, but the ref didn’t give it.

Fulham took advantage of their reprieve and scored two in quick succession. By half-time they’d added two more. The tie was all over barring a miracle.

There was a little van where a friendly lady sold coffee, cookies, cakes and crisps. I got a decaf, a bag of salt and vinegar and a Salt Lake City cookie.

Jo came on at half-time. The lady Atleti fans and I agreed that we had to go on the attack, three goals behind with nothing to lose. The second half was end to end with both defences resolute. Atleti did get a consolation when Jada McGibbon coursed down the wing and her cross was turned in for an own goal.

At full time I stood at pitchside just before the channel and clapped the girls off. I called out to Jo, who came over to me for a high five and a little chat.

The rain had stopped by now. I wandered back to the station. Got a train to Clapham Junction, where suddenly, with ten minutes or so before it was due, the Portsmouth train was listed as ‘delayed’, and soon was showing as not expected to show up within an hour. News came that a fatality on the Eastleigh-Basingstoke line had put that section out of action.

There were buses replacing trains between Petersfield and Portsmouth but there was little for it but to board the next Petersfield train. Then, on arrival at Petersfield, I needed the loo but the ones on the station were closed. Boarding the waiting replacement buses for the lengthy ride to Portsmouth wasn’t an option.

It was quite a long walk from the station to find a pub, but when I reached it the Square Brewery was a little gem. I ordered a half of London Pride, sank it and visited the facilities. Then headed back to the station, where there was a half hour wait before the next bus.

Arrived home around 9.15 and chilled in front of the Winter Olympics.

Comments

[jenni_blog]

You had to go quite far only for the weather, the Sunday roasts, the game and the train to let you down. Still, sometimes these things end up being a new adventure that one can enjoy regardless.