2012-13 Uncovered: 1st September - One Shade Of Gray

   Another night of little rest.  But at least this time it was fun.  Nodding off after a hard night's channel hopping, my reverie of kip was disturbed by loud voices outside.  I had a peep through the window.  Three lads were arguing.  It seemed like one of them had doinked another ones bird immediately after they'd broken up and the lad in between was trying to break it up.  Chortle.

   This carried on for a good half an hour until a police car pulled up, told all three of them off.  And then it happened.  One of them was still gobbing off so he got what could only be described as a 'clip around the ear'.  They scuttled off, silent, having been given a paternal rather than officious bollocking, being the unwitting fall guys for some good old fashioned policing.  It was worth the disruption to get a front row seat for that.

   What's that got to do with football?  Nothing.  But I thought you might like to know there are still some 'bobbies' around rather than twats in a police uniform.  It was great.

   Anyhow, yes, this footy lark.  Radio duties day.  Billericay's trip to Bath was too much beyond my pocket.  The station were already at Brentwood Town for the day.  That left East Thurrock United's trip to Carshalton.  I do try to give an even coverage for the teams I'm meant to be at, but Brentwood had drawn the short straw so far.  The two games I'd meant to cover for them had been postponed.

   I don't mind covering the Rocks regularly though.  As you know by now, good team, good playing style, good manager, good people throughout the club.  Horrible black and striped away kit but you can't have everything.  Unless you're Jordan's gyna .... no, I'm not finishing that sentence.

   The train into London was rammed.  People with their Daily Express and mini union jacks.  Sensible clothes and pudding bowl haircuts.  Heading for Stratford.  The carriage was silent, no joy on the faces of the passengers.  It felt like a rush hour. 

   These are the sort of people that have no interest in sport, but they have enough money and the right credit card.  They're going to the Paralympics (and Olympics before that) just so they can say they had been to it.  They patently had little or no interest in sport.  They were reading their papers from the front page.  Bloody philistines.

   Getting onto the tube was a relief, so I thought.  Big error though.  I walk on and directly opposite me are a couple with a baby in a buggy.  That's fine.  The smell of shit and piss emanating from his nappy wasn't.  Nobody said anything but you could hear everybody thinking the same thing.  "F***ing hell.  Just get off the f***ing tube now."

   Blackfriars station.  Been shut for about 19 years and it's that one where you can walk along the platform and halfway across the Thames for some pretty damn good views.  Except the station, somehow, is still a covered up building site.  Harumph.

   The ground, as is common with the non league way of things, is up a driveway behind a row of houses.  It's youth teams day today.  Loads of kids in shirts about 7 sizes too big, sounding like the front row of an Olly Murs concert.  Except I don't want to punch the kids.  Just lightly tripping them up will be fine.

   The ground's a decent one for Ryman League standards, the Carshalton officials are decent people, and it's a good view from the press box.  But I feel strangely disconnected.  Chipper's not with me today, seeing what I'm missing, and summarising for the radio.  No doubt about it.  I'm just feeling grumpy and thinking 'what am I doing here?'.  Which, when you consider I enjoyed Mile End, is quite a leap.

   So why am I writing so much about what happened before the game?  Well, quite simply, there was little to talk of the game itself.  Wayne Gray played for Carshalton and he hasn't changed a bit.  That's probably the biggest positive.

   I was probably being a bit harsh on the Rocks during the game.  They were the better team.  But, first half especially, there was so little created from the innumerable corners and free kicks.  Kye Ruel's effort early on was deflected over the bar.  Kris Newby had a header sneak past the post just before half time.  And I had a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

   At least the second half livened up a bit.  Sam Collins forced a decent save from the Carshalton keeper.  I dutifully start typing it up.  I hear a shout.  East Thurrock players are all smiles, arms in the air, heading back to the halfway line.  Bastards.  If you're gonna score, have the decency to do so when I'm paying attention.

   The game turns on Spencer Harrison's dismissal.  The home side take control for a while, with the wily Wayne Gray exposing the gap that's opened up because of the red card.  Carshalton go near from a corner then a little while later the equaliser pops up.  Bollocks.

   As it happened, the Rocks looked likelier to win after that, but in truth, neither team deserved to go on to get a winner.  Wayne Gray on the pitch, and the match for most part a drab shade of grey. 

   I have a brief chat with Covo.  He's frustrated but has one of those knowing grins on his face, someone who's seen it all.  He's right in saying if Spencer Harrison stays on the pitch, the Rocks win.  He also said he felt the team played some good stuff in the first half.  Oops.  Like I say, perhaps I was being overly harsh but I saw very little.  I agree wholeheartedly with his comments though.  Man of principle, me.  Or perhaps anything for a quiet life.

   The train into London is filled with the sound of teens and 20-somethings shouting and thinking they're being outrageous by doing it.  No, you're just being a c*** and that's why we have our earphones and iPods on.  Get the tube to Tower Hill.  In a carriage filled with teens and 20-somethings shouting and thinking they're outrageous. 

   The guy next to me digs his elbow into my ribs and gets my elbow underneath his for his troubles.  He gets his own hand into his eye when I move my arm upwards.  "Oops, sorry." I say.  We both know what I actually meant was "Wanker.  F*** off."  He looks at me momentarily and can see, even in my middle aged unhealthy state, I'm at the end of my tether.  He and his girlfriend go quiet after that, despite the noise from their mates.  I really am a grump today.

   The train home is, thankfully quiet.  Lots of Paralympic passengers, who sit quietly, staring straight ahead.  It's as if I've strolled onto a film set of The Stepford People.  I know Stratford people struggle to blink, let alone talk, but this is eerily quiet and unmoving.  Suits me.  I settle back and read the programme. 

   I get home knackered, with a blinding headache, and a dull ache of a pain in my bowels.  I've had a thoroughly miserable day and now I'm nowhere near well enough to cover tomorrow's FA Vase match as I promised.  But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  A Gray, grey world at that, too.

   Carshalton Athletic 1,  East Thurrock United 1