2012-13 Uncovered: Tuesday 2nd October - Wet And Windy With An E Cup

   Dislocated Expectations.  I read about that in Clive Woodward's book about when he was coach of England, although I'm sure it was ghost written by David Brent.  He learnt it from the Marines.  Or perhaps his hairdresser.  All it meant was things can go awry at any time, however meticulously planned it is, so you have to have a back-up plan.  Most people just call it everyday life.

   That was certainly the case the past couple of days.  After getting in contact with Boreham Wood some time ago, through all the proper channels, to confirm coming over to cover Billericay's game there on the Monday, I get an e-mail in the afternoon.  It is "company policy" to only allowing media facilities to a visiting team's paper.  Funny that, I thought it was a football club.  There's something very wrong if a club sees itself as a company.

   Anyhow, seeing as nobody from the local papers were getting off their arses to cover the match, and as radio people haven't exactly been scarce at Meadow Park before - or tv camera for that matter - it was the unmistakable smell of bullshit.  Someone there simply thought they could con £12 out of me.  Someone that knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.

   I replied cordially, kindly turning down their offer for making me pay to actually do my work.  What do I really feel though?  Well, I have no problems paying the going rate if I'm a punter, but paying to work?  F*** off.  In the end, they lost two potential spectators, who planned on coming along with me.  

   With programme sales, food & drink, and a rummage through their excellent club shop, which we'd all have done they cost themselves a minimum of £50.  Just become someone thought himself a clever c***.

   As it happens, Monday was spent having a nice mooch around the Essex and Suffolk border, and back home in time for Gary Tank Commander.  It was 'shit in the en suite' to see it.

   So Tuesday came along, and I was looking forward to a trip back in time.  I hadn't been to Gardiners Close for a while.  The grapevine said there'd been changes afoot there behind the scenes, and one time Southend United midfielder Mitchell Cole arriving on the field.  It looked the right time to go.

   Then I looked outside.  Pissing down.  With that and the wind blowing, I didn't much fancy the idea of either a couple of longish cab rides from the station to the ground, or a bus and traipse across a soggy field and industrial area.  My mind was made up.  Rovers again.

   Halsted Town were the visitors to Burroughs Park, as the rain and wind lashed down.  A town I'd been through last night, by a very unstrange and boring coincidence.  Nice place.  Apart from where their ground was, next to an industrial estate.  Allotments look so much better next to a clubhouse.

   I'd still promised live updates for the station, though, so there I was, watching Great Wakering Rovers v Halsted Town in the Essex Senior Cup, doing live updates for Harlow Town v Brentwood Town in the Ryman One North.  Expectations don't come much more dislocated than that.

   Not even Brian was here.  He, along with Chipper and Ed, were at Roots Hall, watching the latest episode of the Southend United soap opera to unfold.  It was bound to be an awful game and sickening defeat, I thought.  It's the Southend way in times of crisis.  They usually just fold on the pitch.  They may do away from it, too.

   I wasn't expecting much.  Halsted Town were struggling in the 1st Division of the Eastern Counties League.  Rovers were hot and cold.  In these conditions, more likely to be cold.  And for the first 15 minutes I was right.  Error strewn, with lots of shouting.

   Then a dislocated unexpected expectation.  The visitors take control.  Rovers can't deal with their runs down the flanks.  A free kick goes wide, the Rovers keeper is called on to make a couple of decent saves.  Then it happens.  Halsted take the lead just before the interval.  The few home fans that have bothered to turn up shake their heads and swear under their breath.

   This could be a tough night for Rovers.  Or could have been if half time hadn't come so soon.  A few home truths, and within 5 minutes of the second half, Rovers are ahead.  It's rough justice on Town, but that's football.  A little while later, sub Luca Franklin bags his second from the penalty spot and it looks all over at 3-1.   

   I look down to write it up for the station website and prepare the audio report, hear a little squeal, and wallop, the ball is in the Rovers net.  3-2.  Anyone's game.  A cracker.  I wasn't expecting this.

   It's now end to end.  Halsted go close, missing by millimetres.  Back go Rovers.  Jay Nash collects the ball on the left inside the opposition half.  He runs at pace and smashes the ball home.  Worthy of winning any game.  I go to write it up.  Again I hear another roar.  I look and Rovers are celebrating again.  You bastards.  At least have the decency to wait until I've finished before scoring again.

   The teams go off to a subdued murmur.  Everyone's appreciative of how good the game was, bar one twat wittering on about the ref making 'silly decisions' when booking players for stuipdly late tackles and the handbags that follow.  It's just that they're as cold and wet as the players.

   It's been a good night.  Basildon beat Stansted 3-1.  Brentwood Town hammer those arrogant numpties at Harlow Town 5-0.  The only fly in the ointment was Southend United.  Player sent off, awful game, got beat.  Nothing dislocated about that expectation.

   A surprisingly good night.  I promise myself I'll make it to Basildon this season.  Just don't expect it to be when it's cold, wet and over 20 miles from home on a weeknight when I do.  

   That's an expectation not so much dislocated as broken away completely.

   Great Wakering Rovers 5,  Halsted Town 2