As the new poster, 'MikeInTorquay,' wrote - it was a lovely evening in Cheltenham as he parked up. I found a secluded car park in Prestbury, about a mile away from the ground. The 'secluded' part was important for my purposes, as I will reveal later.
I popped into The Kings Arms and was pleasantly surprised to discover my pint of fizzy pop lager cost only £2-17 and there was I thinking that Cheltenham would be charging London prices. There were no ostensible footy fans in or outside of the pub and my 2006 home shirt attracted no attention whatsoever. I got a text from my old pal 'fbm' and discovered he was in another part of town so we decided to meet in the ground instead. I was sweating profusely by the time I got to the ground where I saw another old Blues compadre, Pete from Yeovil, and his missis. I'd met him when some Argyle fans (who are mutual friends) flew up from Cornwall with me for our game at the Hall with them back in November, 2006 (1-1, Marky G). I'd got my shirt that day coincidentally, a belated birthday present to myself as I liked the acknowledgement of our centenary status on it and the fact that the Nike technology allowed the sweat to breathe...
The poster known as 'fbm' beckoned me over to a quiet spot above the corner flag. Little did we know that 'True Blue' and the big drum would be banging on behind us five minutes later. When we found that we'd be kicking towards the other end we moved towards the halfway line just as the game kicked off as we didn't want that f*cker (ie the drum) in our ear for the duration. We started as brightly as the evening sun with several chances in quick succession, mostly headers. The debutant M'Voto had a strong near-post header which blazed over the bar after five minutes. This prompted me into a solo rendering of a variant to the chorus of the Abba tune, 'Fernando'..."There was something in the air that night - his speed, his height, M'Voto"...the song hasn't caught on yet, but there's still time - well, about five months anyway. Barney had a much easier header (as he was unmarked) at the other post a few minutes later that he should have guided in instead of over, but we can forgive him due to events of the second half. The tall Col Ewe loanee Heath also went close with a header which looked as though it bounced over the keeper's hands off the post. There was only one team in it at this stage and it was the mighty Shrimpers.
On the half hour Cheltenham seemed to sense that they were still in the game as we hadn't capitalised on our possession. The fantastically named Elvis Hammond looked lively and we were grateful to Steve Mildenhall for making a wonderful save low to his left in a one-on-one with Hutton. He saved well again from a header after a corner but Hammond converted the third of these Chelt chances from a ball played across the six yard box which had only been half-cleared after a long throw. This was just before half-time and it seemed crazy that we were a goal down after bossing the game for so long. At one stage, we looked so comfortable playing our way across the back four, I turned to 'fbm' and sardonically remarked the word 'Brazil' followed by the obvious line, "...it's just like watching Brazil." M'Voto and Heath looked imposing in the middle and my only worry at that stage had been White's tendency to drift inside where the action was, which left a big gap behind him when possession was lost. Our midfield looked tight and tenacious and Walker looked eager if ineffective up front. However, though it was hard to believe, we were still one down and at half-time I texted one of Cornwall's other Shrimpers, 'Richie C' in deepest Devoran, to reassure him that we were still very much in this.
The second half began unnervingly for us though as Cheltenham carried on from where they left off and it was only when they surprisingly took Hammond off for the veteran Alsop on the hour that we slowly came back into the game. The introduction of 'Asbo' Sawyer and our own veteran 'The Doogie' Freedman (for JFC and Walker respectively) turned the game our way. Sawyer, his years belying the authority which he has on the ball, looked industrious and confident. He often received the ball inside from the left, dropped his right shoulder and prompted and probed for openings from around the halfway line, setting Grant free on the right when he could and providing the missing link between midfield struggle and attacking incision. Blues' attacking impetus paid off with about quarter of an hour to go, a far post header from Heath inviting Barney to risk getting his head kicked in as he stole ahead of keeper and defender to nod it over the line. He looked as though he enjoyed baiting the Chelts' fans by putting his hands to his ears after they had commented on his 'reject' status at Tottenham earlier that half. We were buzzing now and just as I was looking forward to extra-time Francis put over a fantastic cross which Barney headed in at the far post, once more celebrating in front of the Robins' fans, one angry one running down the steps of the terrace to remonstrate at him. Barney carried on towards us as his team-mates mobbed him and he saluted us in joint celebration. A great ending to a game of three halves - the first half-hour which we dominated, the second one which they did and the final one in which we eventually regained control in great style and with a grand-stand finish.
After applauding our lads off the pitch, I bade farewell to 'fbm' and alerted him to my pub of choice ahead of our next game at Walsall before I made my way back to The Kings Arms. I texted Richie C to appraise him of the gripping finale, the strength of our defence and about Barney's goals and he replied 'good - they and Barney were crap on Saturday.' I savoured the pint of bitter* this time (only £1-79) and then another and made my way back to my van. I was relieved that the car park was secluded as I slept in the back of the van and could wander behind the back of it from time to time during the night safe in the knowledge that no-one could see me communing with nature as the steam rose above the bushes.
*Butcombe - just in case any real ale enthusiasts are reading this.