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A WIZARD IN WIGAN - BLAST FROM THE PAST II
The Wizard of Smog
I don't know about anyone else but when this season's fixture list came out there were two games I was really interested in - the first of the season, and Wigan away.
I've wanted a reason to go to Wigan for years you see. There's the Northern Soul connection (no, never went to the Casino, to my eternal regret), and Orwell's classic Road to Wigan Pier for starters.
And then I found out that Wiganers love pies so much they're known to inhabitants of nearby towns simply as 'pies'. Not piemen, not pie-eaters, just pies. As in "He's a pie". Well I love pies me, so all-in-all, this Wigan was starting to sound like it just might be my spiritual home. I had to go.
The 9.15 from Euston set off bang on time and I'd managed to bag myself a decent perch on a packed train, so I was feeling quite pleased with myself. Fool. A couple sat down near me with like half a ton of scruffy luggage. That wasn't a problem until it became obvious they were addicts who'd injected immediately before setting off.
As the effect took hold he started to drool and loll around, she took to shuffling up and down the carriage constantly asking people (mainly me) the time, how long the journey took and then calculating, incorrectly, their ETA. I'm a tolerant man but eventually it became obvious that I had to move for the sake of my sanity. The rest of the journey went fine and by the time we got to Warrington this Smoggy was starting to feel at home!
First view of Wigan did not disappoint. We could talk all day about what defines 'northern-ness' without coming to agreement but anyone who's seen it will agree that Wigan has it in spades. Redbrick mills with tall chimneys, canals, lovely old pubs, all present and correct.
The centre of town, certainly around the station, has managed to keep some character about it and has avoided the bland same-ness of many similar-sized English towns, but I had to leave that to find the JJB stadium. This is out of town slightly on a huge and new-looking retail park, which, unlike the town centre, could be anywhere.
I had planned to park the bike (Yes. It folds.) and walk back into town. However I'd heard about a bar for away supporters called The Marquee, within the ground. It's on the ground floor of the North Stand and as I was passing I decided to have a look. Wow! No need to move!
This is without doubt the best away supporters facility I have ever had the privilege to use. A long room, with a blond wood floor, big screen TV at one end, food (of which more later) at the other, large banqueting tables covered in pristine white linen, bentwood chairs with velvet seat pads, large well-stocked bar with sensible prices (£2.50 a pint).in short, a palace.
This picture doesn't really do it justice. Someone said "they should make all the premiership chairmen come here and say 'This is how we want to be treated'". Dead right. Not only was the place fantastic, the staff, from the doormen to the bar and catering staff, to the security were all really friendly, enthusiastic and eager to help. It was almost like they were glad to have paying customers! At a football ground? What's going on?!
Now, the food. Simple and fabulous, there were only two menu options: pie and peas, or pie on its own. £1.50 for the former, £1.20 just your pie. I had meat and potato with peas and then, I'm afraid, went back for a steak one. Every mouthful was bliss.
Then mates started arriving, Andy C, then Ian (who CoB MB users will know as Godzilla and The Smogmonster) with his little boy James, madly excited about HIS FIRST GAME! Then Andy M (Packwolf), and his belle, Ruth.
We watched Man U v Liverpool, between yawns, then went up for the game. There are match reports elsewhere on the site so I won't bother saying the same things again; suffice to say we could and should have won but in the end didn't deserve to.
Must praise the Boro's support though, seen below having a half time breather, who sang and sang and sang, it was brilliant. Wigan were very quiet, in contrast. When they sang "You're not singing anymore" after the equaliser, it drew gales of laughter from the Boro. I mean, the chutzpah! And anyway we were, they just couldn't hear us cos they were singing too, for a change.
After the game we walked back towards town, pausing at The Orwell on Wigan Pier for a couple.
Back in town I was delighted to see Wigan celebrating part of its cultural legacy in the form of beer! Wanted another pie but the pie shops don't open Sunday nights apparently, which was a small disappointment.
This was one great awayday. If the Latics stay up, and I think and hope they will, try to get there next season. Clubs that treat supporters properly deserve our support. Unlike fucking Branson, who got me back at quarter to one on Monday morning.
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