The trek up the Northern line was hardly a chore.
Upon exiting High Barnet tube station, my first impression was the area seemed far too pleasant to be hosting a football match.
Ex blogger Frankie Valley had arrived in Hertfordshire without a ticket so we sauntered over to the Barnet FC club shop to purchase one from a really cheery old fellow.
While there, we made use of the 'facilities', a tea bar that also sold bacon and sausage sandwiches.
For any fans of Danny Baker and his Sausage Sandwich Game, (get well soon Danny), I had brown sauce on my sausage sandwich. (Aye, Aye).
The famous sloping pitch at Underhill was perhaps more suited to the nursery slopes at Chamonix than a decent game of football but the surface looked impeccable.
Frankie commented that he'd spent a fortune on his own garden yet he couldn't get it anything like the impressive greenery on show. How ever do teams in League 2 afford to have such good pitches?
A prat in a moron hat was running about, goading the Barnet supporters before kick off from the safety of the Charlton enclosure. If one of our own supporters had taken a pop at him he'd only have had himself to blame for the embarrassment caused. (Not that I condone violence of course).
The teams came out to the ripping guitar of Guns 'N Roses. It felt as if there were more Charlton fans inside than home supporters. If not, there can't have been much in it.
Anybody who has seen more than 8 or 9 Charlton games would have experienced the team totally dominating but failing to score, then having to hang on to avoid defeat as the game heads towards the final few minutes.
There's no need to add much more than that, the game stuck to the well thumbed script.
Jackson should have scored when he sent the ball across the goal, narrowly missing the far corner but Waggy was very annoyed he hadn't squared it to him, for an easy tap in.
Abbott hit the crossbar and Benson had a few good chances but after around an hour, it never felt as if it was ever going to be anything other than a 0-0 draw, though Elliott had to be alert in the final few minutes.
Personal highlights?
1. Watching a game in the company of F.V is always a pleasure.
2. The ironic chant of "Dirty Northern B******s" made me chuckle.
The game fizzled out with relief all round that we'd not been shamed like last year at Northwich.
Back onto the Northern Line to discuss football, travel, the general crapness of X-Factor, films, Dr. Feelgood albums etc.
I jumped out at London Bridge to visit my present number one in my permanent quest for The Best Coffee In The World.
Only 15 minutes later I was back on the train home.
A quick snack then a I headed off to Blackheath, on foot, for the fireworks.
Thanks Lewisham, they were fantastic.
Greenwich council, you should be ashamed of yourselves.
Ref watch: I felt the referee had a good game. There was nothing I noticed that changed the game for either side.
The Lacoste polo is going to Grant Basey. I know he's now wearing a Barnet shirt but I think he had one of the best games I've ever seen him play.
He's never been the quickest but he seemed to have gained a little bit of pace. He also looked a little slimmer than I remember.
The Primark novelty slogan tee shirt is going to:
a) The prat in the tall, floppy, red and white hat who thought everyone would be impressed with posturing from behind a fence and burly security.
b) Whoever thought it was a good idea to use an orange ball. It was probably part of some FA stuffed suit diktat but it actually made the ball more difficult to follow in the late evening sunshine.
Orange ball = Snow.
End of.
No comments:
Post a Comment