Not the most inspiring round today following yesterday's nail-biter (voting still open), but we've got Donkey Broughton's goal up against some optimism in the sun.
First up is Silencer's choice, which surprisingly appears to be the only nomination involving Col Ewe (presumably as people were too busy debating over what was funnier: Peter Daley relegating them or Che Wilson taking the **** and clinching the title over them).
This goes back to 2004 and our LDV cup run. Whilst it was Tes Bramble's goal that secured victory over Col Ewe (we already led through away goal's advantage) the goal that sticks in the memory for most Blues' fans is Donkey Broughton's. What better way to rub your rivals' (in Col Ewe's case, should the apostrophe be before the s?) noses in it, than for one of your all-time worst players to score against them.
Despite not bringing his shooting boots - for a change he'd missed countless opportunities that night - Drewe managed to complete Col Ewe's humiliation by scoring a goal from inches out to extend our lead. In the end we could even survive playing with 10 men after Drewe got himself needlessly sent off, but Southend weren't to be denied with Kevin Maher up for it in a way that was rarely ever seen the Blues held on to secure their first ever major Cup Final in style - by knocking out their local rivals. You could hardly have scripted it any better.
That memorable game is up against a game that arguably represents the highpoint of Southend's second second division stint. It was one of those glorious summer days with the sun beating down on Roots Hall. We'd enjoyed consecutive promotions under Tilly and were looking forward to testing ourselves against championship sides. Early in the game Lead Bradbury stumbled in the penalty area under a challenge and the ref pointed to the spot. Up stepped Freddy Eastwood, who'd been banging goals in for fun, who scored - of course. This championship football was a lark. We'd conquered all in the previous two seasons and looked as if we'd do the same again. We held on for a comfortable 1-0 win and everything was looking rosy.
The rest as they say is history. We went to Palace and looked in complete control first half, we even went 1-0 up. But then Flahavan's chronic weakness at set-pieces and poor decision-making was ruthlessly exposed by, cruelly ex-favourite Leon Cort and a Dougie Freedman, on as sub, inspired Palace. That set us on a downward spiral of debt that we're still to escape from.
First up is Silencer's choice, which surprisingly appears to be the only nomination involving Col Ewe (presumably as people were too busy debating over what was funnier: Peter Daley relegating them or Che Wilson taking the **** and clinching the title over them).
This goes back to 2004 and our LDV cup run. Whilst it was Tes Bramble's goal that secured victory over Col Ewe (we already led through away goal's advantage) the goal that sticks in the memory for most Blues' fans is Donkey Broughton's. What better way to rub your rivals' (in Col Ewe's case, should the apostrophe be before the s?) noses in it, than for one of your all-time worst players to score against them.
Despite not bringing his shooting boots - for a change he'd missed countless opportunities that night - Drewe managed to complete Col Ewe's humiliation by scoring a goal from inches out to extend our lead. In the end we could even survive playing with 10 men after Drewe got himself needlessly sent off, but Southend weren't to be denied with Kevin Maher up for it in a way that was rarely ever seen the Blues held on to secure their first ever major Cup Final in style - by knocking out their local rivals. You could hardly have scripted it any better.
That memorable game is up against a game that arguably represents the highpoint of Southend's second second division stint. It was one of those glorious summer days with the sun beating down on Roots Hall. We'd enjoyed consecutive promotions under Tilly and were looking forward to testing ourselves against championship sides. Early in the game Lead Bradbury stumbled in the penalty area under a challenge and the ref pointed to the spot. Up stepped Freddy Eastwood, who'd been banging goals in for fun, who scored - of course. This championship football was a lark. We'd conquered all in the previous two seasons and looked as if we'd do the same again. We held on for a comfortable 1-0 win and everything was looking rosy.
The rest as they say is history. We went to Palace and looked in complete control first half, we even went 1-0 up. But then Flahavan's chronic weakness at set-pieces and poor decision-making was ruthlessly exposed by, cruelly ex-favourite Leon Cort and a Dougie Freedman, on as sub, inspired Palace. That set us on a downward spiral of debt that we're still to escape from.
