I’m not going
to lie to you FA Cup final day hurt. I
said to my lad as we left for Wembley “No matter what happens today fella we’ll
have a great day”. Stanmore was red, as
it always is, the Man in the Moon adorned with Scouse banners. It was the same scene at the Tube station,
red everywhere. We were inside the
London boundary and no sight of anyone from their side, no blue to be seen, we
had taken over, the City was ours, well the North West of it looked to be
anyway.
The Torch was
alive, the songs were louder, the piss in the urinal was deeper, sadly though
the ale was still as expensive. I
probably shouldn’t admit to it but I filled my lads schoolbag full of ale and
passed him over the back fence to my mates, bad dad? No, just adding to his
Matchday memories, anyway it meant I could buy him a badge and a burger.
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| The Torch - FA Cup Final 2012 |
The walk to
the stadium was just as intense, this time we weren’t alone. A group of about ten Chelsea fans, old enough
to know better, were getting in our faces. I swerved them as I was with my lad, but the
group behind me didn’t and next thing the Met were starting to earn their
money. Thankfully though my son just pointed and laughed at the handbags on the
floor. Football violence shouldn’t be a
thing of humour but nothing was going to spoil our day, especially not a bunch
of idiots screaming ‘Murders’ and ‘Justice for the 39’.
We exchanged
greetings with other members of our family who we met outside the Bobby More
then took our place in the A entrance queue, by the time we were in and up the
escalators it was 2 minutes before kickoff. This time we were in the rafters but the view
was just as good, if not a bit better as you could appreciate the whole field
of play.
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| Block 521 not 222 |
A sharp
intake of breath and we were underway,
by the time I exhaled Ramires had fired Chelsea into the lead, “Don’t worry” I
told my son “We always do it the hard way”.
Whether it
was down to the ale, the adrenaline or the thinking “not today please” the
first half seemed to flyby. It only
seemed like seconds into the second and Drogba had doubled their lead. I’ll admit to it, I was starting to pray to
the Istanbul God, the West Ham God and more recently the Cardiff God. I muttered to my lad “We might get beat here
today mate”.
Andy Carroll
should have started, but he didn’t, but when he did come on he did what no one
else did that afternoon, he grabbed the game by the bollocks and took it to
Chelsea. The next thing the net bulged
and 45’000 people believed, whilst the remaining sank into their seats and watched
behind cracks in their plastic flags.
What unfolded after that was something we all expected from the first
whistle. The shackles came off, we attacked Chelsea and they looked vulnerable.
Talks of another ghost goal between our
clubs will rage on far longer than Luis Garcia and his Sangria inducing goal.
Five extra
minutes were found, I still don’t know where, but I was glad of them, we came
so close, we took it to them.. In the end
Tacticians,
statisticians, pub team players and Football Managers have draped themselves
over each and every minute. Where did it
go wrong? For me it was the exclusion of
Carroll and the inclusion of Spearing, as well as the nullification of Chelsea
and not the attacking of Liverpool that seemed more important for the first
half.
Whatever it
is I’m angry. Angry at the first half,
angry at the starting eleven, angry at the attitude of some, but most of all I’m
angry at myself. Angry for suppressing
everything since January, because I genuinely thought that the 5 May 2012 would
deliver the FA Cup and with it some shreds of happiness from an otherwise poor
season, Carling Cup included. Sure we
beat Utd, we beat City, we even beat Chelsea twice in the space of nine days,
we put seven past our bitter rivals and won a trophy, but Swansea, Norwich,
Wigan, West Brom, Fulham, Stoke (the list goes on) nullified all those high
points. That is my fault though, I
thought the return of Dalglish in his first full season would deliver fourth or
even a decent title push, and I’ll learn from it, just like I hope everybody
inside the club will. This hurt has just
spurred me on to want this season over, see what changes are made in the closed
season.
I’m not going
to lie to you FA Cup final day hurt, we all know what happened but me and my
lad had a great day, we’ll forget the first 60 minutes and remember the last 30. The hope, the wishing, the wanting. That’s what we’ll take into next season and
every other Saturday. Maybe you should too?
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| Them Scousers Again (with a school bag full of ale) |
