The breakfast shows were full of it. Well, they're always full of it, but even more so today. "It's the end of the world as we know it" blared out station after station. At 11.11am, some religious crank had announced that it was our lot. Earthquakes, explosions, Reading winning, the absolute apocalypse.
We've had all this before though. Nostadamus had apparently predicted the two world wars, the sinking of the Titanic, and Coventry City winning the FA Cup. In July 1999, apparently a yellow race would invade Europe and from the sky would come the great king of terror. So he predicted Rupert Murdoch too.
It was, of course, complete bollocks. Unless we have all died. In which case, this Heaven's a bit over-rated. Cold, pisses down all the time, and the women I'm neighbours in Heaven with are right dogs. It can't be Hell. Too cold, too wet, and I'm not forced to put Towie on the telly.
Anyhow, whilst all this nothingness was going on, Chipper and I were getting on with a bit of Friday Night Football Arsing Around. Southend United were at home but Underhill had won our hearts.
England's bottom side, Barnet, had to contend with the visit of League Two play-off chasers Burton Albion. Forget about end of the world, if Edgar Davids can haul this lot out of the drop zone, it would be a miracle akin to a Saturday singing in tune. Or at all.
Things hadn't got any better since our first visit a few weeks ago. No win in 7, rock bottom, and the prospect looming ever larger of starting life in a new stadium next season as a non-league side again. Crowds were on the wane so much they announced spectator changes before team changes. Barnet was not a good place to be. Which, of course, made it even more the place to be.
The Brewers hadn't exactly set the world alight since Nigel Clough left them four years ago, on the verge of the Conference title. Nice, newish stadium, consolidation in League Two, that was about it. They wanted more though. Current boss Gary Rowett knew his stuff in the upper echelons of the game as a player. He was now bossing their emerging play-off bid. The Bees were in for another tough night.
Not as much as the club staff though. As we stumbled out of the club shop portcabin, a bloke was bemoaning the queues. To then say out loudly "Christmas. Oh yeah. It's Christmas", as if it was some sort of mystical truth revealed to just him.
Then, just as we made our way in, another punter. He refused to accept that you didn't need a ticket to gain admittance. The woman on the turnstiles said to him, annoyance only mildly hidden, "You pay and you go in.". Chipper added helpfully "No, you go in for nothing, then put your money into a bucket on your way out." Chortle. From the turnstile woman.
It was cold, but dry and clear, which was all we needed. The club, however, needed more people to come out and support their local team in times like this. You don't expect sell-out crowds, propping up the entire country, but tonight's crowd was obviously, even by Barnet standards, sparse. No wonder they're moving.
That gloom seemed to descend upon the team as well. Burton Albion were at it from the off. Only the midfield promptings of the incomparable Edgar Davids and the trickery of Ricky Holmes kept Barnet in it. Burton took a deserved early lead from the penalty spot, and had numerous other chances.
As half time approached, and Chipper finished the last of his pie so hot the wrapper and foil stuck to it, I was musing that it'd be a result for Barnet to just be one down if they held out until the break. In front of me, Ricky Holmes was a good 20 yards offside as the ball came through to him.
Ricky turns and puts it past a keeper making only a half arsed attempt to get to him. He might get a yellow card for that. We look towards the ref to see what he does about it. What we did not expect is to see him run towards the centre circle, indicating a Barnet equaliser. The crowd are stunned. So are the players. Either the worst refereeing decision ever or the worst ever backpass. Bizarre beyond belief.
You know it's going to be your night when things like that happen. Either that or it's the end of the world. Barnet make a substitution at half time. On comes John Oster, a player I bid 55p for on ebay a few years ago. His first contribution is to come short for a corner. His cross is inexplicably handled. Holmes makes no mistake. Somehow Barnet are ahead.
By now, Davids was again in full flow. He manages, even at 39, to cover every blade of grass without running around like a blue arsed fly. Even if his arse is blue, which I doubt. Every pass is into a space nobody even thought was there. Cajoling the best out of those around him. A true genius at work and far, far too good for this league.
Another 10 minutes on, Davids has the ball, his back to goal, 45 yards out, wide on the left. Unlike anyone else on the pitch, he's seen Oster in space, and switches it in a second. He in turn feeds the ball out wide to the right, a low cross comes in and Ricky Holmes completes his hat-trick from inside the six yard box. Liquid football.
The game is up. Burton Albion come forward but their shooting is pisspoor. Their headers are something else though, and a great one from a free kick looks like halving the deficit, but Graham Stack tips it over the bar superbly. It's not their night, typified when a supposed short one-two ends up with a pass being kicked over the roof and out of the ground.
Eventually, in injury time, Albion get their second penalty, and the third in total tonight, all of which are fairly obvious ones. None of the Barnet players are remotely flustered though. They've figured the time it takes to score it will use up all the injury time. Ex Bees striker Jacques Mahogma puts it away and, sure enough, within seconds it's full time.
Another great night at Underhill. The win hoists Barnet out of the relegation zone. There's only one contender for man of the match. The PA man gleefully says "Very fitting for this time of year. Tonight's man of the match is Ricky Ho-Ho-Holmes." It's awful but brilliant at the same time. It's those stupid little moments that are the difference between just a football side and a football club.
It's a pity barely 1,700 could bothered to come out tonight and back their club. But they're the ones who've missed out. Edgar Davids, five goals, three penalties, and a genuine 'what the fuck happened there?' moment?.
Why, I wouldn't have missed it for the end of the world.
Barnet 3, Burton Albion 2
We've had all this before though. Nostadamus had apparently predicted the two world wars, the sinking of the Titanic, and Coventry City winning the FA Cup. In July 1999, apparently a yellow race would invade Europe and from the sky would come the great king of terror. So he predicted Rupert Murdoch too.It was, of course, complete bollocks. Unless we have all died. In which case, this Heaven's a bit over-rated. Cold, pisses down all the time, and the women I'm neighbours in Heaven with are right dogs. It can't be Hell. Too cold, too wet, and I'm not forced to put Towie on the telly.
Anyhow, whilst all this nothingness was going on, Chipper and I were getting on with a bit of Friday Night Football Arsing Around. Southend United were at home but Underhill had won our hearts.
England's bottom side, Barnet, had to contend with the visit of League Two play-off chasers Burton Albion. Forget about end of the world, if Edgar Davids can haul this lot out of the drop zone, it would be a miracle akin to a Saturday singing in tune. Or at all.Things hadn't got any better since our first visit a few weeks ago. No win in 7, rock bottom, and the prospect looming ever larger of starting life in a new stadium next season as a non-league side again. Crowds were on the wane so much they announced spectator changes before team changes. Barnet was not a good place to be. Which, of course, made it even more the place to be.
The Brewers hadn't exactly set the world alight since Nigel Clough left them four years ago, on the verge of the Conference title. Nice, newish stadium, consolidation in League Two, that was about it. They wanted more though. Current boss Gary Rowett knew his stuff in the upper echelons of the game as a player. He was now bossing their emerging play-off bid. The Bees were in for another tough night.
Not as much as the club staff though. As we stumbled out of the club shop portcabin, a bloke was bemoaning the queues. To then say out loudly "Christmas. Oh yeah. It's Christmas", as if it was some sort of mystical truth revealed to just him.Then, just as we made our way in, another punter. He refused to accept that you didn't need a ticket to gain admittance. The woman on the turnstiles said to him, annoyance only mildly hidden, "You pay and you go in.". Chipper added helpfully "No, you go in for nothing, then put your money into a bucket on your way out." Chortle. From the turnstile woman.
It was cold, but dry and clear, which was all we needed. The club, however, needed more people to come out and support their local team in times like this. You don't expect sell-out crowds, propping up the entire country, but tonight's crowd was obviously, even by Barnet standards, sparse. No wonder they're moving.
That gloom seemed to descend upon the team as well. Burton Albion were at it from the off. Only the midfield promptings of the incomparable Edgar Davids and the trickery of Ricky Holmes kept Barnet in it. Burton took a deserved early lead from the penalty spot, and had numerous other chances.
As half time approached, and Chipper finished the last of his pie so hot the wrapper and foil stuck to it, I was musing that it'd be a result for Barnet to just be one down if they held out until the break. In front of me, Ricky Holmes was a good 20 yards offside as the ball came through to him.
You know it's going to be your night when things like that happen. Either that or it's the end of the world. Barnet make a substitution at half time. On comes John Oster, a player I bid 55p for on ebay a few years ago. His first contribution is to come short for a corner. His cross is inexplicably handled. Holmes makes no mistake. Somehow Barnet are ahead.
By now, Davids was again in full flow. He manages, even at 39, to cover every blade of grass without running around like a blue arsed fly. Even if his arse is blue, which I doubt. Every pass is into a space nobody even thought was there. Cajoling the best out of those around him. A true genius at work and far, far too good for this league.
The game is up. Burton Albion come forward but their shooting is pisspoor. Their headers are something else though, and a great one from a free kick looks like halving the deficit, but Graham Stack tips it over the bar superbly. It's not their night, typified when a supposed short one-two ends up with a pass being kicked over the roof and out of the ground.
Eventually, in injury time, Albion get their second penalty, and the third in total tonight, all of which are fairly obvious ones. None of the Barnet players are remotely flustered though. They've figured the time it takes to score it will use up all the injury time. Ex Bees striker Jacques Mahogma puts it away and, sure enough, within seconds it's full time.
Another great night at Underhill. The win hoists Barnet out of the relegation zone. There's only one contender for man of the match. The PA man gleefully says "Very fitting for this time of year. Tonight's man of the match is Ricky Ho-Ho-Holmes." It's awful but brilliant at the same time. It's those stupid little moments that are the difference between just a football side and a football club.
It's a pity barely 1,700 could bothered to come out tonight and back their club. But they're the ones who've missed out. Edgar Davids, five goals, three penalties, and a genuine 'what the fuck happened there?' moment?.
Why, I wouldn't have missed it for the end of the world.
Barnet 3, Burton Albion 2
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