Scunthorpe United v Wycombe

Friday, October 8, 2004

Football League Two

Scunthorpe United :
Musselwhite, Stanton (Byrne 73), Crosby, Butler, Taylor, Brighton (Sparrow 89), Kell, Baraclough, Ridley, Torpey, Hayes (Keogh 89)
Subs not used:
Evans, Rankine

Wycombe :
Talia, Uhlenbeek, Comyn-Platt (Abbey 42), Nethercott, Johnson, Easton, Ryan (Anya 68), Silk, Senda, Stonebridge, Tyson (Dixon 74)
Subs not used:
Steve Williams, Ahmed

SULSESC REPORT

by Darren Robertshaw at Glanford Park

Scunthorpe United v Wycombe Wanderers, Friday, October 8. The first Friday night home fixture for about 10 years (actually 17 years according to "Statto" Curtis, Torquay United, December 1987), the fixture brought forward due to England's World Cup qualifier against Wales the following day.

As I had a ticket for the England game at Old Trafford, it was going to be a football–fest weekend for me.

Evening games at GP usually create a better atmosphere than Saturday afternoons and as we were sitting proudly at the top of Division Four (boll***s to League Two) I was looking forward to an enthralling night of entertaining football.

Also, I somehow managed to convince a few of my northern pals from Manchester and Stafford that 90 minutes at Glanford Park followed by the Honest Lawyer and Club 2000 is a night not to be missed. Train times checked, B&B next to Clamart booked (Gran's settee couldn't take five), best pulling clobber packed, big night lay ahead.

As my tosser of a boss (now ex–boss) was on holiday, I managed to sneak out of work early so I could catch the 5 pm train out of King's Cross. Due in to Scunny at 19.26, leaving me plenty of time to get down to Fortress Glanford Pak in time for the later than usual 8 pm evening kick–off. After the obligatory sprint down the platform at 16.59, I was in my seat at 16.59 and 59 seconds, just in time for the "Train Manager" to announce that we weren't budging due to a fatality on the track at Harringay. B*****ks, hope the bas***d dies (yes, I know Steve, fatality does mean he's dead).

As the time ticked away, the chances of me making kick–off grew slimmer and slimmer. Couldn't even knock it on the head as my mates wouldn't have been best pleased having to wander around Scunny High Street without their "tour guide"!

The only thing keeping my spirits up at this point was the thought that the fatality was that of a Hull fan, struck on track whilst in mid–session with unwilling goat!

Eventually got away at 18.15, made arrangements with my pals to pick me up at Donny station (they were stuck in traffic as well) and we were parked up outside McDonald's, for quick getaway, at ten past eight. Unfortunately, turnstile staff at GP seem to clock off as soon as the referee's whistle blows for kick–off as all turnstiles were closed. Quick dash round to the office, and we were led through the players' tunnel after handing over a tenner (quid off!).

At this point, my four mates seemed well impressed despite the fact they were Old Trafford and Molineux season ticket holders.

Cameras were out, ready for snaps of the Theatre of Screams. They seemed even more impressed when on stepping out of the tunnel, all the Scunny fans rose in unison to applaud our entrance. Bit OTT, I thought, but they've always been a friendly bunch.

Whilst being led past the Evening Telegraph Stand towards the Donny Road end or whatever it's called now, I got a text from Skez: 1–0, Hayes.

Managed to squeeze into my usual standing position behind the goal, my mates had to do with restricted viewing either side of the pillar, though this could have been by choice!

However, the next 20 minutes or so saw Scunny play some of the best football I've seen in the past 10 years. After several near misses, the Iron were rewarded for the endeavours after Crosby converted a penalty following an offence by a Wycombe player which I can't for the life of me remember. Half–time, Scunny 2 Wycombe 0. Should have been more.

The second–half saw the Iron play some controlled football. We didn't pour forward looking for more goals as Wendy kept screaming for (run faster!) but probably could have done if we needed to. Wycombe were very poor, we continued to pass the ball well and generally played at a higher level than most fans had become accustomed to. Had plenty of chances to score at least five or six but couldn't quite find the target again.

Final score: Scunny 2 Wycombe 0. Well, I think that was the final score as we dashed off before the final whistle went so we could make our quick get–away back into town. Quick change at the B&B and we're supping our first pint (though did have two double vodkas and two cans of Strongbow on the train to calm my nerves over delay) in the Clamart by 10.05. Downed our pints and were out of there by 10.10 as, apart from the two barstaff playing pool, Clamart was empty!

Next stop Honest Lawyer, where we met up with Skez, Ginge, Hopper and AB. After explaining to my four thirsty pals that this was the best real ale pub in town, they proceeded to order four Stellas!

After four pints in the Lawyer thanks to Landlord Al's "extended" opening hours, it was time to head off to Europe's premier nightspot, Club 2000. However, this was not before Al had managed to rummage around in the cellar for a pair of size 11 slip ons so mate could adhere to the club's "No Plimmies" dress code. Memories of Skez slipping into Curtis' "boats" outside Garbo's came flooding back.

Managed to meet up with another two non–Scunny friends of mine inside the club, Nelson and the infamous Dogsie, who had travelled all the way from Ashford, Kent, to sample the delights of North Lincolnshire. I know what you're thinking, how mad are they? For those of you who have met Dogsie, I need explain no further; for those of you who haven't, think yourself lucky!

After a couple of hours of drinking, shuffling and leering, we made our way back to the B&B but not before Dogsie had stripped naked and ran down Scunny High Street singing: "I'll be running round Scunny with my willy hanging out."

See what I mean. Oh yeah, and we managed to drag along two local lasses from Club 2K as well. Must have been Dogsie's charm.

After falling into the B&B, we were met with a sign saying "Honesty Bar - help yourself to beer but please donate one pound a bottle to Honesty Box".

Unfortunately for the landlord and any other guests wanting any sleep, he had very foolishly just stocked the fridge and left a CD player in the bar.

This meant all and sundry had to listen to seven drunken louts singing along to Oasis and the Stone Roses until 5.30 in the morning!

All in all, a bloody good night. England beat the Taffs the next day as well.