As an accident held us up joining the M1 I wondered if there would be a long delay for us as well as the armada of Uncle Ron sponsored Blues coaches that were now a couple of hours behind me. Happily that wasn't the case and I was in the Yorkshire city at the allocated time of 1pm, a place that looks great as you enter it, surrounded by lofty green hills, but not so brilliant as you enter the maze of streets leading to the main bus station and the green trees turn into grey housing estates.
An old work mate who had moved his young family 'up north' then took me on the thirty minute drive to the beautiful town of Bakewell where lunch was waiting at The Peacock but not until a couple of pints of Bakewell Bitter from Peak Ales, you really couldn't have been anywhere else! Amazing that you could be enjoying the extraordinary views of the Peak District a half hour drive from such a big city, one of the joys of living in England.
As he had the afternoon off we were into the second bottle of Kiwi Chardonnay, (well they were in the country, trying to play cricket in the gloom of Lords), we both noticed it was 4pm and I had a football match to get to, oh dear! The wife was summoned and did the decent thing by taking us both to Doncaster even though young James had no intention of going to the match. I don't think he'd earned too many brownie points but his four year old son was happy enough, "Mummy, is Daddy and his friend pissed?" I was dropped off at the Railway pub near Doncaster, er, railway station, fell in and carried on as if nothing had happened, it was 5.30 and there was still an hour of serious drinking to be done. It might be a while before I see them again after the result but I guess the wife was happy we'll not be playing two Sheffield games next season, divorce proceedings might have begun!
I did notice I hadn't received a text on the whereabouts of Thurrock Blues stag group, in fact I haven't heard from him at all! As TB started his day at 11.30am I was concerned for his safety, has anyone seen him alive?!!!
Well, I got the 'only one goal in it' wrong but what I did say was how one or two incidents that go for you or against, the incidents that even out over the season, can affect the whole destiny of the game, to win these matches the force has to be with you. For a couple of minutes it wasn't and Wembley was gone. First a lovely move, as good as we've done all season, gave Walker a chance to be a hero but somehow he hit the crossbar, I'll be having nightmares about that miss for a while. Up went Doncaster to the other end, a messy tangle between Paul Clarke with the annoying Price, and another Premiership ref gives a match-changing decision, penalty, 1-0. I've seen the replays many times now and far worse goes unpunished in most games, a ref would have to give a spot kick at every corner for a start, but over and over again we see the top refs forgetting the players are the performers, they are not there to hog the limelight. Poor decision.
Of course, being one down should not be the end of it but I honestly felt that the aforementioned 'force' was leaving us at the eleventh hour. Confirmed when a goal was conceded that we have been letting in all season. A cross that seemed to be in slow motion, the defenders, including Darryl, freeze like statues, in goes an opposing forward, goal. At 2-0, against such a good side as Doncaster that was it. A lot has been said about how poor we were but you could see the confidence leaving the players, if Walkers horrible miss had gone in I'm positive we would have seen another Southend, we might still had lost but in my opinion there wouldn't have been such an awful collapse.
There has to be some criticism. I have not given Black more than a five for months now but we play in a certain way and he was the only player that can fill that role, maybe Tilly could have thrown a wildcard to Scannel but I notice he was not even on the bench, and it was too late now to try and change it. We saw earlier in the season what happens when we play with only Gower out wide, answer, not much. Macca and the Moose were wasted when played wide right and while a luxury Black was a target for Macca and Bailey to spread the play, we did have a 13 game unbeaten run with him in the side, why didn't Tilly drop him earlier? Who knows, he might have risen to the day, though I accept there's been no evidence that he would have done.
The other was not beating Port Vale, we should have started with the 'A' team, bar Barnard, and withdrawn players as the result became clearer. It was obvious that outside our own good run, now stalled, the two best teams over the season were Doncaster and Leeds and that Carlisle were in dire form, they did well to take it to the 90th minute of their second leg. Again, no guarantee of a win but I strongly believe the odds would have been in our favour more than they were against Doncaster.
I'll leave it there, it was Donny's evening and I wish them the best v Leeds on May 25, they are going to need it, on and off the pitch!
Also, marks out of 10, I'll give everyone 6, no need to have a go now. (The fantastic away support can all give themselves a 10 though.) The players have punched above their weight, and height, to get us in sixth place. Most of us know the changes that have to be made, we'll see what Tilly does over the next few weeks. For now let's just enjoy what has been another great adventure under T&B, that this side took us to 90 minutes away from a visit to the new Wembley. I'm left with some great memories, especially from January onward, Carlisle away being my personal highlight.
Now I had to get home. The X75 back to the station turned up eventually, went 200 yards, then ran out of diesel! Seriously, it just stopped! Off we went, I jumped in the middle of the road to stop the one behind, poor driver didn't stand a chance, and was the only on to get on as it took a good half hour to get back into town. Time for a couple of pints of cider back in the delightful Railway to soften the shock of what had gone before and the 23.34 last train to Sheffield which took thirty minutes.
Midnight in Sheffield with over an hour to kill, (I noticed a half dozen Shrimpers getting off the same train, their Blue Voice flags looking quite forlorn at their sides, good on ya), time to see if anything was open. There was, I love this 24 hour opening. Karioki was on at the Roebuck as was Timothy Taylor's Landlord, the payment being the worse version of Cyndi Lauper's Time after Time I've ever heard, students just can't sing as they used to. Then it shut. Damn, 12.30, still got fifty minutes. A quick wander into the city centre found the local Weatherspoons still serving, I had a crumbled voucher left in my wallet that offers a pint of Abbot for 1.20, well, why not? I took a packet of dry roasted, the barman didn't see and only charged me for the beer. I said nothing. This was awful, play-off defeat had turned me into a peanut thief, they'll be looking at the CCTV pictures as I write, I promise officer I'll never do it again.
I did wonder after so many pound fares all around the country why I ended up paying 15quid to get a night bus back to the Smoke. Was it going to be full of drunken Scots down from Glasgow? I soon saw why as I got back to the Interchange. Half of Croatia was in the station, there was a couple of national team shirts being proudly worn. Damn those Croats, wasn't getting rid of the useless Steve McClaren enough, they were now nicking my cheap seats, why did they have to pick that day to fill the hotel vacancies in the West End? We are talking families as well, I spotted two babies under six months, it was nearly enough to turn you into a Daily Mail reader. (But not that much.)
Five hours later I was walking along the Queensway Road after being dropped off at Marble Arch waiting for the 148 to take me back to the Bush. My forty-first season supporting the Blues was over, roll on the next one, and if anyone hears from Thurrock Blue, tell him I'm still waiting for his report!
Have a great summer.
EEB