A few highlights from my trip to Luton
I am officially a football hooligan, having had an argument with a football steward. To be fair, he could only be described as the real life Ali G.
After taking photos from outside the ground, I was stopped from entering the stadium, by the jobsworth, insisting that I give him my camera. I refused and like a sensible-minded human being, reasoned with him, promising to keep it in my bag. The chav refused and called for the head steward. Luckily his boss did not wear sovereigns or any bling and common sense prevailed, when he undermined his deputy and let me enter the ground. Hahaha – cock.
Both of them however, failed to carry out the standard safety checks, by searching the bag over my shoulder, which could have contained a flare, gun or knife. It seems preventing photographs being taken is a higher priority than public safety.
I have read a lot in the media about Luton Town supporters and the troublesome nature which follows them. Luckily, I saw no problems yesterday. However, they can fairly be described as some of the most arrogant fans in English football.
At half time, the tannoy announcer and the majority of the home crowd showed unprecedented joy at the fact Watford had lost a game of football to Derby. This is Watford, the team three divisions above Luton Town and trying to get into the Premier League. I think at this moment in time, Luton should be more concerned about how St Albans and Bedford Town are doing than a team they used to play in the good old days.
The fans continued their honourable display right until the final minutes, when, despite winning 3-1, found it necessary to boo and abuse their manager for making a tactical substitution they disagreed with.
Mind you, apart from when they scored their three goals, jeered Watford and mocked their manager, you wouldn’t have known they were there. Apart from the away support, which was fantastic, the ground was silent. Maybe Luton are more like Manchester United and Arsenal than I first thought.
I’ll end tonight’s blog on a high. On the way to the game, a sweepstake was run on the coach for the first goalscorer. I picked out Lee Phillips. Bath City’s recently signed striker, who before the weekend was experiencing a goal scoring drought. I was somewhat disappointed with my pick, thinking I had more chance of winning had I chosen the goalkeeper.
However, I was proved wrong, when Mr. Phillips scored a fabulous goal in the second half, making the scoreline 3-1 and paying for my entrance into Kenilworth Road in the process.
I was probably the happiest person in the ground following the goal, knowing £19 was coming my way.
Thank you Lee!
As I write this blog, I am on the coach to Bedfordshire where I will watch Bath City take on Luton Town.
There is more significance to this match than your usual Bath City tie. Today’s game shows how far Luton Town have fallen and what progress Bath City have made, by the fact we are meeting in the same division for the first time.
Just over three years ago, Luton were in The Championship, one division below the Premier League. They were playing some giant clubs, including my own Leeds United, who they destroyed 5-1 (it still hurts). At the same time, Bath City were making trips to Northwood, Cheshunt and Hemel Hempstead.
Besides still seeking revenge over the 5-1 raping of Leeds United, I also hold animosity towards Luton over a particular football player – Kevin Nicholls…
Non-football fans will find this petty. OK, everyone will find it a petty, but it still annoys me. When Leeds were facing relegation from The Championship in 2007, Nicholls, Leeds’ captain, requested that he be released from Elland Road to play for one of their relegation rivals… Luton Town. A disgrace.
That said, I do think Nicholls’ act of treachery was partly my fault…
The picture below was taken in 2006 at Plymouth Argyle’s Home Park. While waiting to get into the ground, I met Mr. Nicholls along with Jermaine Beckford.
With Leeds struggling and in awful form, I gave the players an inspirational speech, demanding they play for the shirt or leave. I felt like Winston Churchill.
A few months later, Beckford was banging in the goals, including scoring against Manchester United, while Nicholls went AWOL.
Hopefully Jim Rollo and the Bath City Galácticos will destroy The Hatters and end the years of hurt.
There have been many reports in the media recently that Wayne Rooney’s salary of £250,000 is obscene and too much. Having been to town today and observed what everyday people have to pay for basic provisions and services, I’m in the minority that believes Wazza is underpaid.
Bus to town (less than 2 miles) – £3.20. For a few pence more, I could have bought a horse driven carriage. Upon my arrival, I could even have asked the driver to kill the horse, which took me to my destination and put it in between two slices of bread – very continental and all for under four quid. Instead I sat on a damp bus, surrounded by old people and their whimpering dogs. For the record, I didn’t eat the dog or any pensioners.
Dentists. 2 minutes in the chair, no work required – £16.50 – and that’s with an NHS dentist! I haven’t been for 3 years. I have been avoiding the dentist in recent times, as I was always sent to the hygienist who found it necessary to cut my mouth to pieces and charged me £50 for the privilege. Ironically, despite my recent abscondence, the dentist found no problems with my current set of gnashers and didn’t refer me for further treatment… expect to my bank manager.
Scarves. After leaving the dental surgery it rained. I randomly found myself in a shop looking for a scarf which would keep me dry and warm from the elements. Price = £50. Needless to say, I didn’t buy it. Instead I ran away from the shop, embarrassed and crying, as an overdressed shop assistant asked if he could help me. It was obvious I wasn’t an upperclass, silk-scarf wearing yuppie. My Bath City FC scarf will have to be sufficient this winter.
Apparently someone once said “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all”. That is why I am not going to mention Bath City’s 4-3 loss and FA Cup exit to Swindon Supermarine.
It would appear that Father Jack Hackett is alive, well and residing in Bristol.
While shopping in Asda, Longwell Green on Sunday, there was a customer announcement over the tannoy.
“This is a message for the gentleman who ordered a crate of whiskey. We have boxed up all your bottles, which are now ready for collection”
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