It smelt like the Wigan F.A. Cup
final defeat all over again…and then we woke up. The real Manchester City
came out to play in the second half…and then what
about those goals?!
T’was a long day…
With the alarm clock going off at 5:20am (the ‘back-up’ alarm set for 5:30am not
being required), my wife & I set off at 7:05am on the short, 15 minute
walk to the coach ‘pick-up point’. It was chilly and, purposely leaving the
brolly in my rucksack; some light drizzle helped to wake me up a little more. I’d been keeping my eye on the weather
forecast for Wembley for a few days; I was prepared for it to be on the cool
side but, thankfully, it was going to stay dry for the most part. Stopping
to get a newspaper, the coach arrived within 5 minutes of our arrival and we
set off dead on the planned 7:30am departure time.
We’ve nearly always travelled with A. Mayne to Wembley, a long-standing, local
firm who have never let us down and who provide reasonably comfortable coaches.
But this time we were in for an added treat. It had a toilet!
Have I really reached
the age where I genuinely get excited about a coach having a loo?
Well my wife was sure getting increasingly irritated by my (overzealous?) animations regarding the on-board
facilities. If she could have changed
seats I’m sure she would have done so at one point.
In my defence, my experiences of taking the coach to (and of course from) Wembley has often been an uncomfortable one…on the return journey that is. As with a
lot of people the beer tends to flow before the game…and we always manage to squeeze
another pint in at half time. Well, simply put, that has ‘a certain effect’ on
the body of course and seeing as it often takes more than an hour for the coach
to move just ¼ mile once everyone is on board; it can make for a VERY
uncomfortable & long trip to the homeward bound ‘motorway services’
stop-off.
Needless to say, I
made use of the coach facilities twice on the way home on this occasion…
But not only did we have superb loo & wash facilities,
we had tea/coffee/hot chocolate-making facilities…and a bloke brewing up for
everyone! We had a TV (not used on the day) and the seats were more comfortable
than usual; with slightly more leg room, which is a blessing when you have legs
as long as mine! Mayne had clearly ‘pushed the boat out’ and one of the fellas
later informed us that the ‘new line’ of coaches had cost £240,000 each. I was more than happy with that expenditure!
We ‘bombed it down’ in light traffic; stopping for 25
minutes at some services at around 9:20am. This is where I started to bump into
people I knew (it NEVER ceases to amaze us
how many people we know & bump into on a Wembley trip). This time it
was two people from work and, separately a few minutes later, a customer of
ours!
I took the opportunity of the stop-off to text a few mates who were
travelling down too; updating them as to where we were and asking for their
whereabouts. One replied later on at about 10:30am and he was already at the Green Man waiting for it to open at 11:00am. The
other two were a little behind us and were planning a stop-off a Warwick Services. The
latter we were very much hoping to meet up with at the now-usual area of Wembley;
near to some portable bar units.
We moved off again at about 9:50am. I don’t know what it was,
but 40 minutes after setting off from the services – about 10:30am – I got a
sudden attack of pre-match nerves. It was strange; a negative feeling as though
the result wasn’t going to go our way. All sorts of player and tactical thoughts started to whirl
around. My mind then briefly wandered onto something else and then similar to
the first emotional wave...but quite the opposite; an air of optimism suddenly wafted over me
at about 11:10am. Strange…and I recall thinking at the time that this must be what players
and, perhaps, managers go through ahead of a big game.
Little did I know at
the time that this pessimism - followed by renewed optimism - would be exactly how I’d
feel sat in my Wembley seat…
Text message updates came in: “Green Man hammered!”…and from the other two,
“Just passing through Warwickshire”.
Text message update: Just passing Harrow ;
traffic bad. I’d given up hope of meeting-up with them this time.
Heading straight to the now-usual mobile bar area, we
discovered that one of the bars was closed. Not helpful at all – this meant, of
course, longer queues at the one remaining bar.
It took about 12 minutes or so to get served and we ‘doubled
up’ (a whopping £19.60p for 4 pints!) The still-chilly air didn’t help as we
gingerly carried the very cold drinks through the crowds and to a seat/wall
area. There we eagerly planted the drinks down as, by now, our lager-glazed
hands were red raw in the cold March air. I
think it took me just 10 minutes to down the first pint.
This was when we saw the 4th person we knew – Ricky Hatton. I’ve known Ricky since he was 10 or 11,
when he played football for my Brother-In-Law’s side, Littlemoss
Youth. He didn’t see me as the suited-up, ex-Boxer made his way through 100s of
Blues and up the steps towards the ground; stopping just once to have his
photograph taken with someone.
With about ½-a-pint each remaining – and at about 12:50pm –
we made our way up the very same steps. This was where we bumped into the 5th
familiar face. A lad who we used to ‘holiday with’ had made camp half way up
the stairs with his family. All 12 or so of them, he explained, had now made
this ‘their regular spot’…and woe-betide anyone
who tries to take their patch!
After stopping for a chat for 10 minutes or so we made our
way through the increasingly strong & cold wind and towards our turnstile.
We were in! We were on our way up the several escalators and at the bar within
5 minutes or so; diverting only briefly to check out where our seats were. On
our way back from the stand we bumped into face number 6, a lad from my local. Shaking
hands we made brief, ‘loose plans’ to meet up as soon as we stepped off our
returning vehicles...Optimistically suggesting that it would be to "celebrate".
We had 2 more beers (20p
cheaper inside – just yer £4.70p per pint…) and just as we were finishing
our first we realised that we’d been standing next to one of our good friends – that’s number 7. This was the same chap who had been in the Green Man and he reiterated
just how busy it had been, which was the reason he’d left sooner than planned. He also told me that Ricky Hatton had been
in there knocking back a few…
Soon afterwards some of HIS friends arrived followed by his
son (familiar face number 8), who’d come straight from a stag ‘do’ in Blackpool and, who,
hadn’t slept in 36 hours or so!
My wife then bumped into one of her work’s Regional
Directors! A lovely chap…and recognisable
face number 9.
With the delay getting into the car park, the queues at the
outside bar and the slightly-early kick-off time of 2:00pm; the 'pre-match' had
all seemed a little more rushed than usual. As the players came out we ‘drank
up’ and took our seats in time for the National Anthem.
Oh deary me Mr Pellegrini…
Not me...but you get the idea... |
We’d heard the team selection 20 minutes or so before we took to the stand
and weren’t alone in bemoaning the fact that he’d chosen Kolarov, Demichelis
and Dzeko. What
WAS he thinking?!
Quite note: Well-done to all who organised - and to Wembley Stadium - for their tribute to Mike Doyle on 4 minutes!
And our fears seemed justified; Dzeko performed his usual lamppost impression with his (lack of fluid) movement; the weak, left-side of our defence was all-too-evident…and had a big hand in their opener. Kolarov’s more-attacking nature for a so-called left-back meant that he was far up the pitch when we were exposed by a decent Adam Johnson pass. And with Demichelis being somewhat on the slow side it was then left to Vinny to ‘leg it’ across to try ‘n’ cover. But it was too late; at full pelt Kompany managed to stick in a challenge of sorts but it wasn’t enough and as his momentum took him away from the attacking Sunderland man, Borini broke away and ‘lashed in’ past Pantilimon after just 10 minutes.
And our fears seemed justified; Dzeko performed his usual lamppost impression with his (lack of fluid) movement; the weak, left-side of our defence was all-too-evident…and had a big hand in their opener. Kolarov’s more-attacking nature for a so-called left-back meant that he was far up the pitch when we were exposed by a decent Adam Johnson pass. And with Demichelis being somewhat on the slow side it was then left to Vinny to ‘leg it’ across to try ‘n’ cover. But it was too late; at full pelt Kompany managed to stick in a challenge of sorts but it wasn’t enough and as his momentum took him away from the attacking Sunderland man, Borini broke away and ‘lashed in’ past Pantilimon after just 10 minutes.
Disjointed
We certainly had enough possession in the first half but we
just didn’t look cohesive at all. They overran us in midfield for the most part
and a lot of our attacks just broke down in the final third. To add to Dzeko’s
ineffectiveness; Sergio, for all his efforts, looked a little 'off pace' in his
‘comeback game’.
I looked around the Blue half of Wembley and I saw a sea of
motionless bodies and deathly silence. Of
course this was sharp contrast to the red & white striped half of the
stadium. I left my seat early on 33 minutes and without wishing to sound
too macabre; I smelt (footballing) death in the air. I looked at fellow Blues
in the concourse area and they were grey-faced with serious concern.
Pellegrini’s team selection just wasn’t working and it had the smell of the Wigan final just 10 months earlier.
I managed to sink a couple of pints in the 25 minutes that I was down there and had a worrying chat or two with fellow, equally-concerned City fans. This included ANOTHER chap from my local (familiar face number 10). I re-joined my seat just as the second half kicked off and it was at this point that disappointment, a little annoyance, passion and beer took over.
All-too familiar…but
MUCH more intense!
People who have attended matches with me - and those who
have sat near me down the years - will tell you that I’m certainly not afraid
to shout and, on occasions, SCREAM my support
for the lads when required. But this was another level altogether.
So determined was I to get the stand singing, so
resolute was I to do anything that I could to raise a change in our play
& fortunes on the pitch; I yelled SO loud and for SO long that I actually did myself an injury! Not long
before we scored I’d given myself an instant, migraine-level headache at the
back of my head. No kidding; I actually thought
I was having an aneurism there & then!
Grrrrrrr... |
I popped a strong, dissolvable painkiller into my mouth without
water; such was the intense pain. But the agony somehow didn’t stop me from
continuing my Hulk-like frenzy –
the adrenalin, together with the pain killer, must have somehow managed to dull
the throbbing sensation in my head.
Yaya! |
The good ol' Kippax Stand |
Then we scored again just seconds later; another 'cracker' by Nasri…
Nasri! |
This time I recall jumping up and then, apparently, both my wife and the bloke behind me had to stop me
from falling over as I bounced around…arms all over the place! I eventually
calmed down and the pain in my head instantly came back. But I was so focused
on the game that I managed to put it to one side for a time.
Although a single goal is often cause for some nerves in ANY
crucial game, not least a final - and despite
the fact that Steven Fletcher should have done
better with his attempt at an equaliser towards the end - we looked in
control for the most part. And after the Scottish international’s error, we
broke away and Yaya had several options in front of him. He chose Jesus Navas and the Spaniard sent us all into
raptures!
Navas! |
We’d done it! We’d secured the League Cup for the first time in 38 years; the first time I’d seen us lift the
trophy (I was just 5-years-old the last time).
The fans were singing the whole way down but I neither had
the energy nor the vocal cords left to join in. I’d wrecked my throat and could
hardly speak. The adrenalin ‘come down’ had also left me feeling utterly
exhausted…and the pain in my head had returned.
Walking back to the coach I bumped into the same customer
I’d seen at the services on the way down (how weird!). This time he locked eyes
on me and we ‘let on’. Back on the coach and everyone had been very prompt in
their return…but it didn’t matter; we were going nowhere. As usual, not
only were the roads IN to Wembley ‘chocca‘ but egress was even worse! As well as the prices for food & drink; I
HATE this part of the whole ‘Wembley experience’.
But I was okay on this occasion for the most part – I had
my toilet after all…
Sugar rush! |
After a ‘quick visit’, another painkiller and a dozen or
more Galaxy Minstrels; exhaustion really took a-hold and it wasn’t long before
I’d nodded off. We’d not even joined the main road when I was ‘neck wobbling’
where I sat. So long did it take us to move that two of the passengers
eventually decided to take ‘brewing up’ into their own hands. I was awoken to
the sound of, “Tea or coffee anyone?”.
I stuck my hand up and croaked, “Tea please”, in a weak, pathetic-sounding
voice. My aching throat needed a brew!
Just as she handed it to me we hit the ‘open road’ and as we went from ‘A road’
to motorway, I fell asleep again.
Need to buy one... |
I very, VERY rarely ‘do sleeping’ on a coach or ANY journey for
that matter but so ‘conked out‘ was I, my wife told me the following day that
she had to check to see if I was still breathing at one point!
I woke up as we slowed down to enter the services and the
chap gave us ½ hour to sort ourselves out. Apart from a trip to the loo, I
spent the whole time sat on a settee; head tilted backwards, shades on and with
my eyes closed. My head was still bad and even a 3rd or perhaps even
4th painkiller was barely touching it. I needed my bed!
So we set off once again and I recall that the rain was
lashing down really heavily on the windscreen of the coach. But it could have
been chucking down Minstrel-sized hail and it still wouldn’t have prevented me
from sleeping once again. I think I woke up twice before the ‘third awakening’
found me just 5 minutes from home. We got home at 10:40pm – huh…I certainly wasn’t up to meeting with
the bloke from my local as (loosely) arranged…
But my head pain had FINALLY eased somewhat and a walk home
in the rain, another painkiller, 2 brews and a cold slice of left-over
pizza from the fridge made it disappear almost completely. We watched the goals
on TV again before heading to bed at 12:15pm, a full 18 hours and 55 minutes
after getting up.
The next day…
Sam: "Don't leave me!" |
We’d never left our little dog, Sam, in kennels before but we
had to on this occasion. He’d stayed for 2 nights and we’d arranged to collect
him between 10:00am & 11:00am. But my headache was back. It was just as bad
as the previous day. Even my neck and shoulders were tense & aching. I’d
shouted so much that not only did I have a sore & gruff voice, I’d sort of
pulled a muscle in my chest/back area too! I’d
not noticed that yesterday…
What an idiot! I thought I’d moved past all of these
shenanigans years ago. But so much was the passion for wanting us to win this
one - and SO much did I want to shake the team from their apparent doldrums - that
I had behaved like a man possessed!
I spent most of Monday popping even MORE painkillers and
drinking pint after pint of water. Sometimes my headache would seem to wash
away before returning just as bad. What
HAD I done to myself?
The plan was ALWAYS to head to the pub at some stage on
Monday (we’d both booked the day off work) to celebrate and talk-through the previous
day’s events. After some domestic duties we grabbed some dinner at about
2:00pm. Something had to be done about my
head – a change of plan was needed. So I sat in the cold sunshine in the
garden on a kitchen chair; sunglasses on, sandwich in one hand…and a cold lager
in the other. Kill or cure time! I sunk a second can from the fridge before we
both set off to the pub about 3:30pm. It was working! A few more beers later
and I barely had any pain.
And now (3 days after
Wembley)…
Although my throat has now almost fully recovered, if I turn
my head too quickly then I get a sharp reminder that my head is still far from
happy with me even today. This has been the reason for the delay in my post-Wembley
Blog entry – I just couldn’t stare at the computer screen for too long. Apologies.
What WAS he thinking?
And poor ol’ Joleon…
Under Manuel Pellegrini we are experiencing the best season
I can ever recall. One cup already in the cupboard, still in two other cup
competitions and ‘sitting pretty’ near the top of the league with 2 games in
hand in March. It all makes it very difficult to be negative towards our
manager. However…
By his own admittance during Wembley-post-match interviews we’ve gone through the whole League Cup competition by only
conceding 2 goals. Put another way, before the final we’d only conceded one,
solitary goal. And who was it who had played in all the previous rounds? Joleon
Lescott.
Ability and ‘pros & cons’ aside; I know there might not
be room for too much sentiment in modern-day footballing management but SURELY
there was more reason than one to stick with the England man on this occasion.
I know that Pellegrini has worked with Demichelis before and that he went to
some lengths to draft-in one of his ‘favourites’ back in August; but Joleon
must be absolutely gutted! He didn’t deserve that…and he could barely raise a smile in the dressing room afterwards.
We looked well dodgy at the back at times and it could
easily have cost us – picking Martin AND
Alex in the same team just leaves a gaping hole on that side of the defence. Chuck
an immobile Edin Dzeko and a recovering Aguero into the mix and no WONDER the
already-overrun midfield was finding it difficult to look coordinated and be effective
in going forward!
But it somehow ‘clicked’ in the second half and…WOW - those first 2 goals! The third one wasn’t too shabby either... Glad to see Aguero got
through his part unscathed – although he looked a little ‘off the pace’; he
took the pass really well to lay it off for Kolarov whose pass saw Nasri volley in superbly!
Uwe! Uwe! Uwe... |
I was as shocked and disappointed as anyone not to see Negredo partner Aguero up front. But hopefully with
Alvaro having a good, extended rest and Sergio getting some vital
match-fitness under his belt; they’ll both be ready to ‘fire’ in the weeks
ahead...not least against Uwe Rosler’s Wigan Athletic
in the quarter final of the F.A. Cup this coming Sunday.
Well done Blues! You might have given me one hell of a
headache that I’m STILL trying to shift but it was worth it.
Great read, Steve!
ReplyDeleteGlad you and Josie enjoyed the day. It came right in the end...just.
Thanks Colin... Yeah, got there in the end. First trophy of the season! Beat Wigan and anything can happen in "2 finals".
ReplyDeleteJust need some 'points on the board' in the league in our 'catch up' games then.