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SPURS v MIDDLESBROUGH - BLAST FROM THE PAST
Udayan Mukherjee
Middlesbrough 5 -1 Tottenham Hotspur, Premier League, 03/05/2003
I hate Spurs me. Recently they've been enjoyable to watch,
but the way their fans monopolise major football websites
and talk even more shite than yours truly, annoys me deeply.
Anyroadup, this particular match was towards the end of Massimo's
first season, one in which we were really good at home but
abysmal away. This meant that for all the noises from the
club saying Europe this and Europe that, we were destined
to finish mid table, i.e. like any other season.
I remember current England psychiatrist Bill Beswick being
very prominent at the time and giving loads of interviews,
talking some guff about basketball and taking the credit for
Boro winning away from the first time in yonks. He reminded
me of the type of person who may, at the drop of a hat say
things like " Good weather for it", to random people.
Anyway this game was at La Riv, and yours truly was in the
West Stand, in full view of the aforementioned annoying Hot
Spurts fans. The game itself was brilliant, everything we
seemed to do turned into chances and goals, and Maccarone
and a certain Szilard Nemeth were on fire (not literally,
although a certain gentleman who sat behind me that season
certainly wished they were).
As the fifth goal went in, and the EIOing died down (I was
possibly the only one to do it in the stadium, thus making
me look even more of an idiot), I noticed the Spurts fans
trying to riot, and rip the seats out in their end. Being
Spurts fans, they were nowhere near strong enough to do this
and ended up looking even more stupid.
All in all, a very good day.
Smog Eat Smog
Middlesbrough 1-0 Spurs, Premier League, 07/05/2005
In order for us to achieve qualification for the Uefa Cup for the second successive year, we were dependant on gaining four points from our final two games last season. Those games happened to be against Spurs and Manchester City, the two teams ready to creep above us should we fail to make our points total.
So despite being in the middle of university exams I decided the final home game of the season could not be missed. I'd put aside enough money to get me a return train ticket from York and a ticket for the match, but my funds were that low that they would stretch me no further. Not even for a bite to eat at one of the many dodgy food outlets dotted outside the Riverside. So a week before the match, I ring the old man, to ask him to buy me a ticket for the game. This one phone call led me on a lucky roll gamblers all over the world would envy, and to what is probably my best matchday experience ever.
Stroke Of Luck Number One.
My Dad answers the phone giggling like a schoolgirl and immediately begins to divulge why he has had such a sudden rush of euphoria. A work colleague of his has a daughter who works for the Premier League and frequently gets given complimentary executive tickets for football matches across the country. It just so happens, that she has seven tickets to the Boro v Spurs match, but is unable to attend. So she gives the tickets to her Dad.
Although not a football man himself, he accepts the tickets, because they include a free five course pre-match meal (as well as executive match tickets, but he's in it for the food- fat bastard). The man fills up other places with his wife, and two older couples who are close friends of his. However, he has a spare ticket, and knowing how much of a Boro fan me da' is. Bonus for me though, I get to take my Dads season ticket, so only got the train ticket to pay for.
Stroke Of Luck Number Two.
The next day at Uni, I check my finalised exam timetable, and find my exams are on the following week from which I expected, so I will not be rushing back to York, with an exam the Monday morning after the match. Get in.
Stroke Of Luck Number Three.
The best bit. Two days before the match, my Dad rings with news that literally made me fall off my chair with excitement. Old couple number 2 pulled out! One of them unfortunately had to go into hospital. YES! I'd never been so happy at someone else's misfortune - don't worry, it wasn't serious or life threatening). Two tickets were available, and my dad was asked to fill the places, if he could. He said he'd given one to my uncle. Not asking if I wanted one, he skipped needless conversation, and told me I needed to be outside the stadium main entrance suited and booted at 12pm. From what he'd been told, we had great west stand seats and executive service for the matchday five-course meal.
Stroke Of Luck Number Four
Matchday arrives, and I make my way to York train station in my suit (obviously Boro shirt under my smartest shirt and tie combination). Although I'm in good time, I don't want to risk anything, so get straight onto the train, knees still knocking together with anticipation. Eventually the train gets rolling, and I employ my usual trick of trying to avoid eye contact with the ticket guy, in the hope that he'll walk past, not noticing I haven't bought a ticket.
Unfortunately my luck didn't stretch that far (and seeing as the train service started at York, it was possibly the stupidest idea I've ever had). However, I asked if they do student concessions, which apparently are available with a student railcard. Lying, I said I had one. He asked to see it. I fumbled around in my pockets and wallet, pretending to look as if I'd forgot it. Giving me a knowing look, I thought my number was up, but "just this once" he gave me a half price ticket.
Stroke Of Luck Number Five, Six, Seven, Eight.
When I get to the stadium, everyone is waiting for me (for which I apologised), and a club representative escorts us to our seats for our meal Bearing in mind all the time, they thought we were Premier League reps. We pass Joseph Job on the way up some stairs, and I wish him well in his recovery from injury. We find our seats, and drink orders are collected. Politely my Dad offers to buy the first round. The waitress points out though that "as representatives of the Premier League, you are guests of the club, and as a result all drinks, food and service you receive today are courtesy of the football club." Probably the biggest mistake they ever made.
Fighting the urge to order a pint and portion of everything, I put in my order for food and drinks, and sat and watched as the injured Tony McMahon gave the room his pre-match thoughts. When the first pint comes, it is pulled to perfection. The food is equally amazing. A starter of peppered pork (obviously with some poncy side-salad) followed by tomato and leek soup, main course of Sirloin beef, sweet potatoes and mixed vegetables and a dessert of apple and blackberry pie with custard. Then we finished with a cheese board and coffee.
Make no mistake, it wasn't just out of politeness that Delia Smith said our club had the best matchday food she'd ever tasted. I still have dreams about the deliciousness. Anyway, feeling fuller than Santa on the home straight, we were escorted to our seats, from which we could see Sir Steve and his guests slightly to our right and two rows down.
The match itself doesn't really stick in my memory, but I seem to recall Boateng shinning a goal in early on, and us successfully sitting on our lead for the following 80 minutes (would you believe it?). The result meant a point at Manchester City on the final day would see us in Europe again, so all was good.
Returning to our dinner table we found a selection of sandwiches and a gift courtesy of the club. Some sort of silver, world-wide time telling thing, but it had a Boro crest on it so it was cool. The other guests at the table (the old couple and the guy who went just for the food and his wife) left soon after, leaving an open bar to three very happy Boro fans. Eventually on leaving the stadium an hour later (slightly worse for wear) I bump into everyone's best pal Steve McClaren. He signs my (complimentary) programme and wishes me all the best, hoping I've had a good day. It was then I realised my lucky streak was over. Almost ruined my day...
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