Ooh, it was a cold one. That familiar autumnal nip in the air. It's usually called summer in Britain now, though. The one plus was if you could feel the cold at least you were still alive.
When I get there it's 1-1, but the reprobate selection of retired people and ne'er do wells that make up the crowd are looking gloomy. Apparently, Watford have been all over them and it's just a matter of time. Hmmmm.
The geordie was enraged. He quietened down a little. Until I mentioned loudly about things being all clandestine. He erupted again. Chortle. He went on at me, but the only English word I understood was Brentford. I would guess that big Ron D over there had given him similarly short shrift. I agreed with everything he uttered, although for all I understood, I may well have agreed to a Wonga loan.
I had a look round the stadium. It had, of course, seen better days decades ago, let alone now. The advertising was peeling off the hoardings, the scoreboard boarded up, the white clock now a disgustingly drab and dark grey.
I still keep all my windows open, mind. And heating? Ha, that's for wimps. Scots blood in my veins so I was born sub zero. In temperature as well as IQ.
Anyway, there I was, having a leisurely lunch and then it came up on twitter. Southend United youths had a game over at Boots & Laces. A cup game no less. How could anyone resist the attraction of visiting Watford?
Well, I could. For one thing, these cup matches are all group phases first. Another, despite my earlier frippery, it was bastard cold outside. Most importantly, though, there was an important episode of 'Gary: Tank Commander' that I had to watch on the iPlayer in order to get his Cher Lloyd tribute uploaded to youtube. Don't know how I fit it all in.
I eventually make my way across for the second half. It's a depressing place for a Football League club, it's seen better days. Weeds growing out of the disused all weather pitches. Changing rooms and clubhouse that was out of date before penny collars and Oxford Bags were in. It seemed to sum Southend United up entirely.
When you're a teenager, though, you don't give a monkey's. A ball, a pitch, a chance to become pro. That's all you need. A decent coach helps, too, and Ricky Duncan fills that role admirably for the Shrimpers.
When I get there it's 1-1, but the reprobate selection of retired people and ne'er do wells that make up the crowd are looking gloomy. Apparently, Watford have been all over them and it's just a matter of time. Hmmmm.
The youths appear to be mirroring the club as a whole. Hemorrhaging thousands of pounds every week, already deeply in debt. In the car park is a Kings Ferry coach for the opposition. Southend United used to use them, too, until they stopped paying the bills for them. A point made to Ricky when he asked why Watford youths had a coach like that when not even the Shrimpers first team had one as good.
Chairman Ron's 'exciting' announcement due last week was, as predicted by all supporters, nothing more than the next mug to take up the role of Chief Executive after another one had left abruptly. The new ground was no nearer starting than I was of swimming the channel with Michelle McManus on my back. The storm clouds had gathered over Roots Hall way before this latest cold snap.
At least on the pitch, against the codgers expectations, the youngsters were holding their own. Better team in the second half, even though Watford hit the crossbar with a well worked free kick. Their keeper is called into action regularly and shots are cleared off the line. It results in the inevitable handbags which spilled over after the final whistle. Chortle.
There was almost handbags on the touchline as well. Some bloke in a geordie accent, who I took to be a scout, complained about the coaches not giving him the team line-ups, presumably I suppose so that the club he was representing didn't nick them. He asked Rob - well demanded really. Rob, logically, replied that if the coaches weren't letting him know the line-ups, why should he.
The geordie was enraged. He quietened down a little. Until I mentioned loudly about things being all clandestine. He erupted again. Chortle. He went on at me, but the only English word I understood was Brentford. I would guess that big Ron D over there had given him similarly short shrift. I agreed with everything he uttered, although for all I understood, I may well have agreed to a Wonga loan.
We all toddled off, via home, to Roots Hall for the evening main course. It was the Johnstones Paint Trophy and Dagenham & Redbridge fringe squad were in town. Southend also had a fringe squad. It also happened to be the first team squad, though, with numbers down to 15 last weekend.
It was going to be a challenging evening. Brentwood Town, Billericay Town and East Thurrock United were all in action, and somehow I had to keep the Phoenix FM website updated as well as the twitter feed. With the smartphone instead of the netbook this was going to be harder than a Roots Hall burger.
I had a look round the stadium. It had, of course, seen better days decades ago, let alone now. The advertising was peeling off the hoardings, the scoreboard boarded up, the white clock now a disgustingly drab and dark grey.
There was a feeling of gloom around the whole place. Less than half a dozen years ago, it was alive with sound and colour and frenzy after Manchester United - Rooney, Ronaldo, et al - were downed. It seemed a lifetime ago. 1 or 2 supporters were going for a chat with Chairman Ron. Most of us anticipated no more than spin.
It mattered not to the players though. Both sides went at it hammer and tongs. Not that I saw much of it. In the other three games, there were goals, penalties, and sending offs from first minute to last. At a pinch, I saw about 10 minutes, inevitably missing one goal.
The one I did see was the best of the season so far. High ball inside the Daggers area. Keeper clearly calls it. Defender doesn't give a shite and gets there first, conveniently passing the ball to Assombachumbawumba in front of an open goal. Chortle. The crowd is small, albeit big for JPT matches, but they're enthusiastic and appreciate the efforts of the players with the off-field shitstorm around everyone.
The smartphone is indeed smart. Job done, including a full time audio summary, much to the bewilderment of a couple of stewards and departing supporters in the West Stand. They must have thought I was Neil from Bethnal Green. Billericay lost. So no cup trip to the New Forest for me. You bastards. But at least The Rocks come from 2-0 down to win 3-2. Get in there boys. As for Brentwood. Ahem ....
Two matches. A grand total of somewhat less than 45 minutes seen. But a draw, a Trophy win, and back from the dead for the Rocks. Not a bad day at all. If only Southend could start paying their f*****g bills now.
Southend Toddlers 1, Watford Spit The Dummies 1
Southend United 2, Dagenham & Redbridge 0
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