Plans (sort of) in place, meeting places arranged and
taxis ordered the day began distinctly unpromisingly as Ted, Dave, Heggy, Phil
and Nige were left standing around like a bunch of spare parts at a wedding
outside the Cross Guns Pub on Washwood Heath Road waiting for the Jumbo People
Carrier to turn up. Hegwood assured us that the taxi was booked for 11.40 and
after a couple of frantic phone calls to Beaufort Cabs and a false sighting on
the Petrol Garage forecourt over the road (according to Simon “Black is the
New Green”) the taxi finally turned up nearly 15 minutes late. The cabbie
didn’t know where Dorridge was (unfortunately neither did any of the
passengers), which is pretty poor as it is now the new spiritual watching venue
for ALL major England internationals (sorry Simbers or more to the point sorry
Di). The heavens then decided to open but by following the signs to Solihull,
Knowle etc. and after sending a rain sodden Mr Atkins to the Offie we managed to
arrive just in time for kick off and to see Senor Batistuta tear-arsing his way
after the ball like a headless chicken (seemed to me that he’d been on the
“Buenos Baking Soda” or the “Samba Smarties”). Fortunately Phil had made
an excellent choice of Offie beer (Stella no less) and bottles were opened at
12.31.With Deanho, Tonebez and Ian already in position, supping away-notable
absences included Big Roge (what sort of muppet decides to go away at the time
of such a momentous occasion EY CHAP !!!!)And the Naughty Gnome but a decent
9-man turnout wasn’t a bad effort.
Anyhoo the game kicked off, they put us under pressure
for what seemed like about 10 minutes, but from what I remember England,
inspired by Nicky Butt(from Ginger Tosser to midfield maestro in the space of 90
minutes) began to get a foothold in the game and belief started to grow. Owen
hit the post and we wondered if it was gonna be one of those days again but fear
not cometh the hour cometh the man-Yep Senor Cornetto or whatever his name was
duly flicked out an obliging leg the Boy Wonder took his tumble and old
Goldenballs did the business, Simbers’ lounge erupted and we were up and
running. The Smoking Club nervously adjourned to the half-time brolly and
awaited the second half onslaught.
The second half began and England proceeded to play some
of the best football that we’ve seen in our times of following the team.
However, in a cruel twist of fate Sven was apparently abducted by aliens after
about 70 minutes and, lo and behold, John Gregory appeared to take charge of
team tactics for what seemed like a hellish last 3 hours of the game. Happily
the pony-tailed prince, Ferdy and pals hung on and history was made-cue for more
Chaps dancing, shouting, supping and-what your Californian psychologist would
call “male bonding”. Chap rang up from Cornwall-however Chap YOU’VE BEEN
SUSSED-you weren’t in Cornwall at all, but appeared in Japan on the telly on
Saturday, masquerading as one of the referees called
Frisk in one of the other Group matches. A couple of other look-alikes:
Colonel Simbers then organised a team photo to celebrate
the epic victory but as per usual the super-duper, remote operated, digital
telescope cum camera refused to play ball and I get a horrible feeling that the
shot may include just the back of Simber’s head and maybe the top of Ted’s
if we get lucky.
The chaps, determined to celebrate, then left the lucky
pad for new pastures. Confusion reigned as half of us turned left and the others
went right to get to the local hostelry for a quickie, the Colonel appeared to
have gone AWOL or for a post-match dump or something. Eventually our host
appeared and direction was restored. Highlight of the walk was waving and
shouting to the flag-bound Dorridge locals (which numbered about 5) and Heggy,
who has now invoked a curse on all of the first-born of his clan by removing the
monster Dorridge Mushroom from it’s resting place of the last 100 years.
We arrived in the mega posh local, time for more Stella,
sitting in the comfy chairs, necking a nice tube and listening to Dean and Tone
discuss interest rates amongst other things (my God how things have changed),
suddenly struck by one of those beautiful warm feelings that maybe this is one
of the reasons our maker put us on this rock or maybe that’s a bit over the
top- nah.
Stage three involves us piling onto the train to head
for town for further revelry,
First stop is the Old C’s, which, judging by the
stench of the place should be renamed the W.C’S, anyway the beer is fine and
the appearance of the Chaps sends the locals for some reason into a fresh
rousing chorus of IN-GER-LAND, what can you do-it would be impolite not to join
in.
Stop Two is the Flapper as some of us fancied listening
to some good music just to top off the day, the D.J gets in the spirit of things
by playing God Save The Queen-unfortunately for the more royalist elements
it’s the Sex Pistols version-it still sounds great but Dave, Dean and Nigel
help massacre it by singing along loudly, Phil seemed to spend most of the
evening staring at the canal until the chance came to excel at table top
football. Unfortunately after this the furry factor sets in I remember
discussing our all time top 5 favourite albums, except for Nigel who seemed to
only be able to say the word “Fairport Convention” for about 2 hours. Tone
and Simbers then bailed out but Dean suggested that the rest of us go and check
out the band. Three pound for a shower of shit and confirmation that Dean, Dave
and Phil have finally turned into their own dads “It’s just noise”,
“Where’s the melody?”seemed to be our most popular quotes.
Finally after what seemed like a day in the beer saddle
we decided to pull the rip cord, Heggy, having beaten us to the punch as usual
as the Hegarty Ale Taxi arrived in the pub before closing again or maybe it was
the infamous Beer Scooter. A curry was discussed and rejected as most of us
having drunk 98 pints of beer each seemed to be losing the use of our legs so
Phil, Dean, Nigel, Ted and Dave all clambered into one taxi (I’m still not
quite sure why or how?).
Last memory of a special day Dean giving Nigel about £50
for a taxi journey home to Erdington. Here’s to the next round !!!!!1