2012-13 Uncovered: Monday 27th August - A Boreham Drop Of Claret

   Public transport is a bugger at bank holidays but I had it sorted.  Train to Benfleet, bus to Thames Road.  Concord Rangers were taking on Kingstonian.  Let's face it, who wouldn't go to that?

   Me.  Brian called at 11.  I say call, it was more a wake-up alarm.  Still in bed.  It's what happens when you're convalescing.  Your body goes out of sync.  I wasn't doing much but still didn't nod off until 4am.  I guess that's why Prisoner Cell Block H was put on at that time.  It certainly wasn't for entertainment.

   I digress.  Chelmsford City were playing away at Boreham Wood in the Conference South.  It was Brian's 400th ground.  Presumably of the season so far.  Did I want a lift?  What sort of question is that?  Was the Pope in the Hitler Youth?

   Off we went, with Eileen, and who today were the devil kids.  The journey to Meadow Park was filled with screaming, giggling, and getting out of their child seats.  It was exactly like being at a One Direction concert.  Except the noise was better.

   I wouldn't say I have a soft spot for Chelmsford City, but I've always had a look to see how they've got on.  They see themselves as Essex's premiere non-league side, and not without good reason.  I still remember when they were next to the county cricket ground. 

   The occasional Saturday, it'd be a morning and early afternoon watching John Lever and Graham Gooch and the like, then pop next door for City's Southern Premier League game or friendly.  I remember one chant clearly.  "We've got the biggest willy in the league."  I hope they were referring to how tall one of the Clarets players were.  They were a good side and got healthy crowds.

   The devil kids were still conspiring to blow up the Eastenders studio or something so Brian and I hot-footed it to the club shop.  A veritable treasure trove.  Last season's shirts for a fiver.  Old books for a pounds.  Scottish programmes for 20p.  I had a tenner on me but could quite easily have spent a hundred quid.  Perhaps I will do next time.

   Whatever happens on the pitch, I thought, it doesn't matter, the day is already a tremendous one.  Which is just as well.  Meadow Park is well appointed, plenty of seats and terracing, the weather was holding up okay, the queue at the burger bar wasn't too long.  Everything was set up for one of those games you remember years down the line.

   It might have been set up for it, but, quite frankly, it was bloody awful.  Two teams that still looked undercooked.  The pace and feel of the game was very much like a pre-season friendly.  You expect a bit more for your £12 than that.  Chelmsford huffed and puffed, but it took their left winger a good 40 minutes before he realised he was actually allowed to cross a ball rather than run into a Boreham Wood defender and lose the ball.

   The Clarets had a decent following, I'd have said around half the ground.  I'd have also said they deserved better, too, but the supporters standing next to me took away the privilege.  The Boreham keeper had fluorescent green on his boots. "You've no right to wear them, keeper," growled one.  Consistently.  Even though every other player had similar boots.  And even though he was wearing shades in the overcast afternoon, with less hair than me, and a chav polo shirt even though he was in his 40's.

   In our bordeom, Brian and I were reading through our new acquisitions.  I was now the proud owner of Martin Tyler's encyclopedia of everything about the world ever 1978, and seasoned pro Craig Easton would soon be the recipient of an Airdrieonians programme from the Skol Cup.  I can't think why people call me odd.  Though I do understand why they call me other things.

   The non-event continued into the second half.  Brian and I were discussing the different flavours of Revels or something and then we heard something.  We looked up.  Bundle!  Handbags!  I've no idea what went on.  Except that Anthony Cook was taking an early bath, shoving the coach out of the way, and swearing at the crowd.  Chortle.  At last something was happening.

   But that was it.  Corners continued to be kicked directly into the hands of keepers.  Passes unerringly going way above players heads and into touch.  But at least the devil kids had settled down.  And their game of football with some local kids down the side of the stand was far more entertaining.

   Full time came as blessed relief.  Chelmsford City will look upon this, being the away side, and down to 10 men for a while, as a good point.  It was.  But my, what an awful way to get it.  The people who paid a decent wedge to get in really deserved a lot better, despite my earlier observations.  Both teams will play a lot better this season and get beaten.  In fact, if either bothered with actually trying to play they may have won.

   It doesn't matter though.  Awful games like this make the good ones all the more worthwhile.  And that treasure trove of a club shop?  I'd watch a month of games like that just be left there alone for a couple of hours. 

   Or maybe with the club shop girl too.  But I digress.  Ahem ....

   Boreham Wood 0,  Chelmsford City 0