At other times, though, clubs get under your skin and get to your heart. You shouldn't openly support any team you're supposedly being impartial about but you just can't help yourself. East Thurrock United certainly fall into this category.
Chipper and I first covered them a couple of seasons ago, when Ilford visited Rookery Hill. We loved it straight away. It just felt right. A nice, out of the way ground, the way the side seemed to stick to their footballing style, whatever the score was, and just a sense of fun that prevailed. It felt as if enjoying yourself there was more important than winning, even though they were battling at the top of Ryman One North.
I liked the boss John Coventry immediately. You can tell when people are genuinely decent people from the first few seconds, and he is. Knows his football, and seems to give the players the right mix of discipline and respect. I never say too much at games - it may sound daft for a radio reporter but I like to keep out of the way and let others get on with it - but he always has a handshake, a wry grin, and a convivial word for me.
His dry wit also gave me one of the brightest moments of last season. He sits in the press box in the first half, leaving the equally likable Jay Devereaux in the dugout, and gives his boys a shout every now and again. Against Horsham, the BBC Sussex reporter turned round after one such shout, and asked sarcastically "Are you one of the coaches then?" To which came the instant reply "No, I'm the manager, sometimes I'm even allowed to talk to them." Bosh. Sent to Coventry. I can still see the look of uneasy embarrassment on that reporter's face. Much like the Horsham keeper later on.
But I digress. Tonight the Rocks were playing the Stones. At the Manor. In the Vale. It sounded more like a mountaineering holiday in Wales. Wealdstone were a few miles from home and there were rumblings of discontent. Another move, sharing with Barnet, was on the agenda. They were a little less than gruntled.We arrived at Grosvenor Vale after a nightmare trek. We knew we were close, could see bits of green, but no floodlights. We walk by a turning but it's a dead end and no sign of any life, let along footballing life. About two miles later, we're back. This times cars and people are going down the road. It still looks almost derelict but this time we see movement of gates, hi viz jackets.
He get to the press box first. One of the local media guys turns up five minutes later, and just stands and stares at us. We've clearly taken his usual spot but he doesn't say anything, just glares, then slowly plugs in his laptop. My netbook? Pah. A battery's all I need.
At that moment, the heavens open, and you could hardly see 10 yards in front of you. There's a bit of a spark. Clearly water and laptop plugs do not mix. Chortle.
Chipper and I knew it'd be a tough one. Wealdstone have always been a decent side, and they had the league's leading scorer last season, Richard Jolley, with an eye-popping 43 goals. Blimey o blummen Reilly.
Back on the pitch, the Rocks have the next quarter of an hour, then the ball is back in the East Thurrock penalty area. Just as it looks like the safety of half time is going to be made, up pops Richard Jolley to put the Stones deservedly 1 up. Bugger.
I say on air that there's still 45 minutes, and all is not lost, but I fear it is. Wealdstone are good. They pound the Rocks goal for the first 20 minutes after the break. The result isn't in doubt, it's just a matter of how many East Thurrock lose by.
Then it happens. From nothing, Sam Collins breaks on the left, gets inside the area, and smacks the ball against the woodwork. Sam Higgins and Reiss Gilbey both follow up with on-target shots that rebound off Stones defenders, who look like startled rabbits caught in headlights. 'An attack? From East Thurrock? What do we do now?' What they do is stand around like dicks and let the ball be hoisted into the area again. Kris Newby is unmarked and lobs it over the keeper. Somehow it's 1-1.
And for the rest of the game, the tide has turned. Wealdstone look knackered, out of steam in the rain. The Rocks have that extra spring in their step and running around as if it's the first minute. Shots are either superbly saved by the host keeper or go centimetres past the post. It's all East Thurrock right up until the final whistle. Wealdstone are hanging on grimly, reduced to booting the ball anywhere. But they do.
1-1 is, in the end, a fair result. The Wealdstone media guys shake our hands, wish us a safe journey home, and say they were glad to get the point in the end. I always said they were good chaps. We return to Ruislip Manor tube station, via an off licence. It takes us less than 10 minutes to get to the station. And about 7 miles less walking. Yes, I did say walking.
A point as the Rocks eventually ground down the Stones. That'll do for me. Blimey, I could even make it as a headline hustler. Though perhaps only for the Daily Sport. Meanwhile, Thorpe Park is up on the horizon the following morning. A day filled with Chipper and his mate making themselves sick on roller-coasters, with me looking at women wandering by, whilst not trying to make it too obvious to 'Er Indoors.
I'd rather be back at Grosvenor Vale though.
Wealdstone 1, East Thurrock United 1
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