The back page headline screamed. Well, it didn't, papers can't scream, or raise any sort of voice, unless you have a talking paper. But I'd think that would talk rather than scream. Anyhow, I digress. The back page had it in large letters. "Don't Force Suarez Out."
Bearing in mind the sparse merchandise on offer, there was probably more people in there than items on sale. Had I actually had a few quid in my pocket, though, their training top at £20 would've been bought. Nice bit of kit.
It galvanises Dagenham further. Into injury time and they're doing all the pressing. A run down the left. A cross, and there he is, Elito, inside the six yard box. He can't miss. Victoria Road, with it's multicultural mix today, are as one in celebration of yet another dramatic finish. A superb end to a great day. It's what football should always be about.
Back at the Bay, reading up on the afternoon's proceedings, it's clear that the day hasn't worked out as we thought, though. The Met Police have been called in. Chipper and I had just assumed Gavin Hoyte had been wound up by something done on the pitch in that late altercation.
The poor lamb. He dives, he handballs, he cheats, he celebrates, but somehow he's the victim in all of this. That nasty ESPN man. The mean press and tv and radio people. Those horrible supporters. All of whom contribute to a wage he collects in one week that most of us would give our right arm to earn in 5 years. How dare they point out his consistently cheating ways?
Above all, though, the eight game ban he received for making racist comments to Patrice Evra was something foremost in my mind. Today was a day out at a club that's doing more than just paying lip service to football's anti-racism campaign. "Daggers Against Racism" was a day set by where League Two outfit Dagenham & Redbridge reach out to the area's community, of whatever age and ethnic background, with the message of supporting their local club together.
A local press campaign, combined with very cheap tickets for the day, ensures that Victoria Road plays host every year to something that's seen as an f word in general - yep, multiculturalism. The club goes about it quietly, without fanfare, neither seeking or particularly interested in garnering praise further afield. They simply want to be a football club for everyone.
Chipper had never been to Victoria Road, which made today's choice an even easier one to make. What I hadn't realised, though, is that it might take longer that either of us had anticipated to get there. The train from the Bay to Upminster was easy enough. The station was conspicuous by its lack of tubes though. I also noted the trail of red buses in the car park.
Sure enough, a station bloke says there's no tubes to Dagenham East. The bus will take 40 minutes. 40 minutes for 3 or 4 miles? F*** that. We jump on the next train to Barking and get the tube from there. Judging by the crowded tube finally heading towards Dagenham, a few others had the same idea too. It just goes to show, on this day of all days, we all have our prejudices. Mine just happens to be c**tish public transport.
The wander from the station to the ground is a short one, but bloody hell, by the time we got there, we were both absolutely frozen. I thought back to the other night. 12 takes to do a half time report. It might take me the entire 90 minutes to just say where we are. I've only ever felt colder away at MK Dons. And if you've ever been to Milton Keynes you'll know that being frozen to death is probably preferable to living there.
We have a wander around the club shop after picking our tickets up, not so much as to actually buy anything, seeing as Chipper already has a Daggers scarf on, but simply as a way of warming up. We weren't the only people doing this either.
Bearing in mind the sparse merchandise on offer, there was probably more people in there than items on sale. Had I actually had a few quid in my pocket, though, their training top at £20 would've been bought. Nice bit of kit.
It was even nicer when we got in and the club mascot started handing out sweets to us. We strolled behind the goal and down the enclosure, settling on a spot down the front, halfway inside the half nearest to the Rochdale fans. You won't get much closer to the pitch in the Football League than there.
As kick-off time approached, it would have warmed the cockles of Harriet Harman's heart to be where we were. Surrounded by people of Chinese, African, Caribbean and Asian origin, as well as you're everyday white British. All here together to support their local team.
I'd love to have seen Norman Tebbit do his cricket test here. It was .... well, it was just nice. Which isn't something you can say too often when stood on a frozen football terrace on a January afternoon. All we needed now was a decent game.
I wasn't too hopeful of that. Both teams were consistently inconsistent and occupied mid table. It was colder than the contents of my boxer shorts. There was neither the players or the conditions to encourage a decent game.
That's the way it turned out for 70 minutes as well. Both sides competing, cancelling each other out, physical without being cloggers, long high balls regularly, although by no means always. The odd spell of good football ended up with one or two excellent saves by Lewington in the Daggers goal or Lillis between the Dale sticks.
What livened it up, however, was the bloke behind us. He'd evidently acquired all his footballing knowledge from watching Sky, reading the Sun, and listening to Talksport. A steady stream of swearing or tactical bollocks emanated from his mouth throughout. The ref was routinely called a 'baldy c***' and often the straightforward 'stupid c***'. At some points during the afternoon he also swore under his breath. It wasn't clear whether it was at the ref, the players, or just himself.
The Daggers keeper was also berated, for not coming 30 yards out of his goal to deal with a long through ball, that the centre halves already had under control. "Get in front of him" came his shout to another Dagenham defender, ignoring the fact that if he had got 'in front' it would have resulted in Rochdale having a free run and shot at goal. Chortle. Great fun. I do hope he's a regular.
The game was petering out (that's an odd word, 'petering'. Is everyone called Peter prone to fading away after a while? Why not kevining?) to a goalless draw. Until Rochdale scored from nothing. A shot from wide on the left, a decent save at the far post, but Andrew Tutte is there unmarked and whacks the ball home.
The 168 Rochdale fans make the biggest noise of the afternoon, sweary man apart, as they look happily forward to a seventh away win. Then, of course, it happens. Trying to get an update done, I miss completely D & R's equaliser. That's why Chipper's here. It sounds more like a roar of 10,000 rather than two. That low roof of the enclosure helps the sound crash down around us.
Suddenly there's a real game and real atmosphere. Both teams are energised by their goals and take to using width, getting to the byeline and putting crosses in, to try and get the winner. Both keepers are being kept busy. Tackles are beginning to fly in. It's getting towards the last minute, close to injury time. With my track record, I'm absolutely certain there's a winner in this.
Play stretches down the far side from us, near the halfway line. Then, for apparently no reason, Gavin Hoyte loses his temper completely and has to be dragged away from an opponent by team mates. I use the zoom on the camera to see what's going on better. It looks like Rochdale's Bobby Grant is the target for Gav's ire. He's incensed, that much is obvious. The ref does well to calm things down, especially when Hoyte extends his anger towards Dale boss John Coleman.
Chipper wants his Max crisps by way of celebration and so do I. Instead of the tube then train back to the Bay, we instead head off to Fenchurch Street, the only place we know for definite that sells them. It turns out to be a wise move. Liverpool Street line is buggered so everyone's piling into Fenchurch Street. Had we got a train back to the Bay from Barking, we'd have stood all the way home. But we now simply choose our seat. Some days things just somehow work out.
Back at the Bay, reading up on the afternoon's proceedings, it's clear that the day hasn't worked out as we thought, though. The Met Police have been called in. Chipper and I had just assumed Gavin Hoyte had been wound up by something done on the pitch in that late altercation.
It's clear now that it was something said to him. How sad that on 'Daggers Against Racism' day, after such a success off the pitch, that Rochdale player Bobby Grant has been accused of racially abusing Hoyte. If it's true (and D & R captain Abu Ogogo, who scored the equaliser, confirmed he heard what was said) it's revolvting, contemptible, disgusting. Should the allegations be proven, throw the book at him. And then throw him out of football.
Cheats, like Suarez, sometimes prosper. Let's hope racists don't.
Dagenham & Redbridge 2, Rochdale 1
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