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Macclesfield 0 v 2 Everton
By Pete Ockenden |
Saturday 3rd
January F.A. Cup Day on the trail to
Wembley. Met at Hendy Ford’s,
Eastleigh at 08.00. Bloody freezing.
Our leader (Eddie) got a special
deal from Fords. Unfortunately, it
was 45 minutes delay before we set
off due to Hendy’s incompetence.
Anyway, everyone seems in good
spirits.
We set off. I
look beside me, the Carr’s Tom and
Jody have there entire Christmas
stash of beer with them. They never
let you down. Andy and Eddie are sat
behind me. Andy seems a bit over
confident, saying we’ll beat these
4-0. Not saying too much myself. I
look further back down the bus; Les
looks pensive, our cook Steve
appears to be thinking about menu’s,
then we have two new boys, Martin
and Dan. Wonder if they will get an
invite into the very exclusive wine
club, doubtful? Sitting at the back
is Phil but nice, looking we’ll a
bit orange. Time for a top up Phil?
We arrive at
East Isley to pick up Paul who gets
in the front to co-pilot with Ian.
They look such a nice couple. Cuckoo
(Sam) has to move to the window seat
so they can snuggle up. Beer flowing
well. Come off the M6 at Junction
17; all going very well. Then an
argument breaks out. Paul is doing
his nodding dog impression and we
miss our turn off. Driver and
co-pilot start to argue. It’s only a
lover’s tiff and five minutes later
we’re in Macclesfield hunting down
pubs like a pack of thirsty animals.
The group
splits into two. Our little posse
find a very hospitable pub – locals
only, but our smooth talking prison
officer gain’s our entry. Three
pints later and off to the match. 15
of us are in the open terrace where
we spot Grey Dave in the stands with
his granny blanket. The match
starts, Everton kicking towards us.
A couple of early chances then very
tame until Leon scores a cracker
just before half-time. The second
half we have plenty of the ball but
just can’t finish. The silk men off.
The fat bastard’s younger brother
comes off the bench. We all secretly
fear the worse. Then last kick off
the game another sub Yeo cracks a
great effort at goal but USA number
1 dives full stretch to keep it out.
Final whistle blows – relief. Back
to our little cosy pub where all the
boys meet. But we’re one down; Grey
Dave doesn’t know this establishment
and has no mobile phone. We talk
over the match and make overtures
about Grey Dave, but no one goes for
him. Two pints later and we’re off.
Dave is by the bus, nearly dying of
hypothermia and is really glad he
has his granny blanket.
We set off
home at 6.45pm. Cold but glad we’re
still in the cup. Arrive home at
11.45pm and then Sunday find out
we’ve been drawn away in the 4th
round to the shite.
Honourable
mentions on the bus to the Lovebirds
up front, The Beer Monsters Tom and
Jody and Robbo, who still had his
one man wine club going on the
journey home.
See you all at
the next round. Hopefully we can put
one over them Spanish b*st*rds.
Pirate Pete |
