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DIDN'T WE HAVE A LOVER-LEE TIME, THE DAY WE WENT TO POMPEY
Written by Steve '17 not out' Goldby. Thanks to Nigel Cantren for the photos.
It was always going to be one of those days. From the very first moment that four people from the BBC 606 Middlesbrough message board who did not know each other all agreed to go to the last game of the season against Portsmouth.
A game that involved travelling the longest distance possible from Teesside for a Premier league game; a game that incidentally would make no difference to either team's season. It was always going to be one of those days. And it was.
Harry took the Portsmouth job after narrowly failing an audition for 'From Dusk 'till Dawn'
Much has been said of the various personalities who requent the aforementioned 606 board, and as I sat in Cooper's pub in Waterloo station at 1045 on Saturday morning, I wondered if the personalities behind the various daily witticisms would turn out to be as large as the laughs that the board often gave me. They were. And it was always going to be one of those days.
As soon as the bar opened for real at 1100, our pre-arranged meeting time, around 20 red and white striped shirts walked in and my first thought was that I had been ambushed by Mackems who had played at Crystal Palace the night before. There was a little paranoia here because I had half an eye open for Leeds fans, whose team were saying a long goodbye to the Premiership at Chelsea that day. I had originally intended to catch a train to Waterloo from Leeds, which was where I was staying but when I went down to the station to book my ticket, the man behind the counter told me that the train would be full of bitter Leeds fans, all cut up about the incident that had given me more than a slight amount of pleasure, namely Leeds United's relegation. So I decided to drive to London instead, so that I could avoid them. It would have been impossible for me to have stayed quiet on that train and I also had it in mind that over the last 3 weeks, we had mercilessly ripped Leeds to pieces on the 606 Boro board and I had actually received a nomination for an award in the annual Boro 606 end of season awards for the entertainment value that this ribbing gave to everyone. Obviously, the Leeds fans did not see it that way though and some of them actually got a bit upset. As we had published our itinerary on the board, it would have been quite easy for them to ambush us, so I had my eyes open but didn't expect a load of red and white stripes to walk in. I also didn't expect them to come up to me in my Boro shirt and start giving me serious encouragement for the day. A closer look at the shirts clarified everything. They were Southampton fans on their way to Charlton, not Mackems with a king size play off hangover. Good.
The Portsmouth team arriving at the ground.
And then, a few minutes late, in walks a guy with a 1974 Boro shirt and I sort of instinctively knew that he was "from the board". He was indeed. "Timmy Mallett Loves Carling" had arrived and the day was beginning. Timmy's real name is Ben Ferguson and he lives in Tottenham. Drinks were in order and no sooner had the first pints of the day been ordered than in walked The Grand Old Wizard of Smog. Now, how did I know it was him when we had never met before? Well that would be because of the hat, of course. Wizard's hat has been made famous on the 606 board by Andy Morgan who first met Wiz at the Chelsea game and has been going on about the hat ever since. It is sort of a light greeny colour with little flappy things on the side that prestud on to the top. It was unmistakably him and that left just one more to come. Incidentally, to accompany the bag of beer that I had brought with me, Wiz had arrived armed with Pek and Piccalilli sandwiches, as he said he would do. Lovely. And then Andy Morgan arrived, a little late but in good time for us to board the 1153 train to Fratton. Andy Morgan is Roger Glover, bass player of 70's rock band Deep Purple.
Deep Purple. Andrew Morgan is 4th from the left
Regular readers of the 606 Boro board will no doubt be aware of various new ideas that have sprung forth in recent times and one of these ideas was turned into reality on the train to Fratton last Saturday morning. Boro beer was invented! More on that in a moment... To the train. The 1153 from Waterloo to Fratton. It was one of those old style trains with first class carriages for six people that are segragated from the rest of the train and we decided that as we needed space to organise and lay out our beer supplies and sandwiches, we should commandeer one of these carriages. Despite the fact that we only had second class tickets. Well the ticket inspector was not too pleased with us sitting there when he saw our second class tickets and so he asked us to move. So we did. To another first class carriage. Wiz's Pek and Piccalilli sandwiches were going down rather well at this point but the problem with Piccalilli is that it is very messy and it seems like that for every mouthful you have, you get another one down your shirt. But that gave us the best marketing idea of the day and hopefully in time for the start of next season, we will be launcing the Michael Ricketts Commemorative Boro shirt. It's a regular Boro shirt but it has pastry crumbs and chocolate stains down the front. Every Ricketts supporter should have one. Guess that means we only need to make a couple of them then...
We had a great selection of beer with us. Timmy had brought some Carling and I had brought 3 different 6 packs, from Germany, Holland and Belgium. Wiz had brought some Budweiser, presumably in case any of us had a few too many and needed to sober up. And it was from this selection that Boro beer was born. We mixed together one each of the German, Dutch and Belgian beers, topped it up with Carling and all took a ceremonial swig out of it. I thought it was quite nice actually but as it was the first ever one, we decided that we should replace the top and keep it for prosperity, or as a souvenir of this day out. After all, the very first bottle of Boro beer could be worth a small fortune in years to come. So could the Rickett's commemorative shirt... But Rickett's himself probably won't be... I digress.
Michael always brings a packed lunch to away games.
Just after the invention of Boro beer, the ticket inspector came along again and now visibly perplexed, asked us once again to move. So we did. To another first class cabin.
Earlier, the four of us had been joined by another Boro fan called Keith, who had travelled down from Teesside and must never have expected to be partaking of the very first bottle of Boro beer. He probably also didn't expect to be making acquaintance with the likes of Mitch, who wandered past our cabin after boarding the train with a few of his mates when we were around three stops from Fratton. By this time, we were well down the pile of beer and it was starting to take effect. I have a bad habit of shouting at people when I've had a few and football crowds are always good company for this kind of behaviour. So when they walked past our cabin in their Pompey shirts, I couldn't resist a swift "Come on Boro" (at the top of my voice, of course) with fist in air. I must say at this point, that the Pompey fans are absolutely brilliant! Real sports, full of fun and I am sure that Timmy, Wiz and Andy will agree that they are the best set of away fans that you could wish to meet. Hope we meet again! Anyway, after my "Come on Boro" to the blue shirts walking past, they all stopped and acknowledged us and came into our (first class) cabin and started telling us about how they had been kicked out of Leicester the previous week for being boisterous and over enthusiastic. I reckon it was for more than that because most people would take one look at these guys and would run. We didn't because we were drunk.
Mitch was his name and hanging over his Pompey shirt was at least two grand's worth of gold necklaces! He had a very large ring with a huge stone on every finger and you couldn't see the colour of his arms for tattoos. His accent was extremely broad Bermondsey (Millwall) and his conversation consisted of various football tales but absolutley nothing to do with any matches that he had been to. Just crowd trouble and getting thrown out of various towns across Britain. Something was not right here. Why was this guy a Pompey fan?
Anyways, those of you who are aware of the origins and mystic powers of Boro cheese will like the next bit. As we approached the ground, he walked over to the window of the carriage and shouted out of the window. "A large burger Pete!". The guy on the burger van outside the station was a mate of his and apparently, he could always hear Mitch from this point on the journey and would have the burger waiting for him when he got off the train. I took great delight in shouting after him, "Pete, extra cheese mate. I'll pay!" Victory assured! Maybe.
The Beer Express pulls into Fratton Station
The walk to the ground was punctuated with large and loud cries of "COME ON BORO", every time we passed some fellow Boro-ites and after some communication on the Pompey board earlier in the week by Wiz, the chosen venue for some pre match pints was a place called The Good Companion. None of us had been there before and as we headed in the general direction, we seemed to be heading away from Fratton Park, which was not the right thing to do. So we cancelled the journey to the Good Companion and went to another pub called Food Served Daily. Well, that was what the sign said outside the boozer anyway! It was there that beer number seven was served at 1415 on what was slowly developing into one of those days. But wait- it gets worse...
The view from the pub called Food Served Daily
Pompey's ground has a few reminders of Ayresome Park. It is very, very different but certain things bring back those old memories, for example, the terraced streets surrounding the ground, the smell of bovril and pies, programme sellers in the appproaches to the ground and Boro playing absolutely crap! Yes, I know there are some great memories of superb performances at Ayresome but by the end of this debacle, nobody could remember any of them. We were one down after four minutes and The Wizard is still swearing now that their second was never a penalty. How he could make out the players after seven beers and from that distance, I will never know. But he swears it was not a penalty. The Boro fans were making plenty of noise, despite the impending rout and when Zenden pulled one back, it looked as though we may have a bit of hope after all. And then the Boro fans started singing "Harry and Jim are getting the sack..." which galvanised the Pompey team who marched straight up the other end and made it 3-1. Great. Well done lads. Should have just chanted "Come on Pompey".
The view from Fratton Park away end. Wiz still swears it wasn't a penalty
And so to half time and the pie stall. I felt it was my duty to instruct all the Boro fans to buy as many pies as they could afford, in order to stop Ricketts getting his hands on them. I was sure he was going to make an appearance in the second half and if we really had to suffer his ploddings around the penalty box, best he goes onto the field without his guts full up. No need to have worried. Steve Mc had sent the team back out before I had started my second steak and kidney and luckily, Ricketts was not among them. Maybe he really was at the pie stall?
Well, Steve Mc's tactics of humiliating the team in front of 20,000 football fans because he didn't have anything to say to them did not work too well, which is hardly surprising really. We stopped huffing and puffing and started spluttering and stalling and when the fans started singing "Teddy, Teddy on the dole", there was the queue for their fourth goal. Probably Teddy's last ever Premiership goal. That opened the door for the fifth. It was the worst humiliation I have seen since 1992 when we let in four in the FA Cup at home. To Portsmouth.
Here's our player ratings out of 10:
Schwarzer 3- Looked as though he couldn't catch a cold most of the game.
Mills 0- Appeared as though he was on mind bending substances.
Queudrue 6- Only decent Boro player on the field!
Ehiogu 1- Captain Pugwash!
Zenden 3- Tried for a while. Nice goal.
Mendieta 2- Between the posts Gaizka, not 4 miles over them!
Boateng 1- Oh dear!
Greening 0.5- Oh Christ!
Downing 0.2- Oh Fuck!
Nemeth 1- Not The Lizard but The Slug today.
Job 0.1- Used it all up at Cardiff...
Morrison (for Greening 62) 0- Poor
Ricketts (for Nemeth 62) Minus 8- Fat and poor
Teddy got the other goal, probably his last ever in the Premiership.
So there you have it. A thumping 5-1 defeat, the worst Boro performance I have witnessed for more than a decade and it's all over for three months. Roll on August. In the meantime, we made our way back to the pub called Food Served Daily for more beer and the real reason why we travellled all this way. To see Hartlepool's play off game with Bristol City. That's right, the Boro game was just an incidental and the Poolies were the main event. Honestly. News of Newcastle's successful result at Liverpool had been broadcast by now and we were not exactly overjoyed by the realisation that they would be joining us in next season's UEFA Cup. Hartlepool also went a goal down after four minutes and suddenly, we all seemed to lose interest in the game... but not in the drinking...
Hartlepool have a player called Effion Williams. The word Effion (although spelt ever so slightly differently) means MONKEY in German. I shit you not!
Not known to any of us at the time was that The Wizard is a bit of a songsmith and in the preceding days, had been putting the finishing touches to a fine piece of homemade lyrical genius which went along the lines of:
Jingle Bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way
Oh what fun it was to see the skunks lose in Marseille
Shearer is a cunt
Bowyer is a twat
Shepherd's shagging prostitutes
In a council flat
(c) Wizard of Smog 2004
Well the random broadcasts of this fine little ditty were causing great hilarity and amusement amongst the Boro crowd. Until the beer count went past double figures and with it went Wiz's memory... An hour later, the lyrics had been changed to:
Jingle Bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way
Oh what fun it was to see... (slurred) what happened next Steve?
Shearer is a .... (slurred) what did he do again?
You probably had to be there to catch the full humour of the situation but believe me, the pain of our thrashing was starting to fade because of moments like these...
Bowyer, shortly after having being punched. For being a twat.
Very shortly after we had lost interest in the Poolie game, we got involved in some serious banter with the Pompey-ites. We would send a chant their way, usually along the lines of "We don't give a fuck, We won a cup" and they would collectively reply. It was a great atmosphere and a great laugh and never once was there a hint of trouble. And still, the beer flowed. One of the Pompey fans I was talking with told me that he had a mate who is a Boro fan and he was sending SMS messages to him with the updated scores. "Ran my battery flat, that did", he said. Probably true as well.
Monkey Williams pulled one back for Hartlepool late on and after continual banter with the Pompey-ites, we realised that it was getting late and we should head for the train station. All that drinking had given us an appetite and so we simply had to stop off at the KFC that we passed on the way to the station. Wiz ordered one of those, 2 of those, a bag of them and a few of them, walked out of the shop without paying for or collecting his order and then proceedded to eat most of mine...
Hartlepool striker, Effion Williams
We managed to get hold of beers for the journey back and after more banter with some very young Pompey fans on the train platform, took our place in the usual first class carriage. It was at this point that Golf-Man enters our story. As was now normal practice, everybody who walked past our (first-class) carriage, got the "Come on Boro" and most of them were very sensible and just ignored it. But Golf-Man didn't. Oh no, he had to come into our carriage and introduce himself. I think his name was Lionel or something equally poncey, but we christened him Golf-Man because of his trousers. Deadringer for Rupert the Bear he was! All checks and half masts. Well embarrassing. He recommended that we go to to Brewer Street in London for a night out. "Full of interesting people", he said. "We're not going there", said Timmy. "They're probably all weird, like you." He left.
And as the Beer Express pulled into Waterloo, so the sun went down on quite an extraordinary day.In the meantime, only one observation is left from the day. The Pompey players all have individual sponsors and Teddy Sheringham is sponsored by Classic Lingerie, who also have large adverts in the town and in the match programme. Harry Redknapp is sponsored by The Bluebell Nursing Home. I wonder which organisations would be best suited to the Boro players. Now that could be an interesting thread...
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