Shrewsbury v Scunthorpe United

Saturday, May 7, 2005

Football League Two

Shrewsbury :
Hart, Whitehead, Tinson, Cowan, Challis, Wilkinson (Tolley 65), Edwards, Ashton, Aiston (Smith 69), Rodgers (Adaggio 77), Langmead
Subs not used:
Howie, Street

Scunthorpe United :
Musselwhite, Byrne, Crosby, Butler, Ridley, Taylor, Sparrow, Baraclough, Beagrie, Hayes (Keogh 71), Torpey
Subs not used:
Corden, Hinds, Richie Ryan, Evans

SULSESC REPORT

by Russ Foster at Gay Meadow

YES! We've done it! Never mind the game, we've done it!

I was given the honour of providing the final match report of the season, mainly due to my nightmare journey back to Walthamstow but more of that later.

Let me start by claiming SULSESC membership number 90 this season, my late entry was to secure a ticket for the match. A compelling reason to join up earlier next season! I've driven to 36 matches this season but with so much at stake I had to dispense with the car.

I met up with Chris Vaughan on the 07.33 from Euston. We spent the next few hours discussing the odds of winning the league and reminiscing over that fateful automatic promotion day at Chester City in '83.

By eleven o'clock, I was tucking into a Wetherspoon's full English accompanied by a pint of Marston's Pedigree while Chris organised the bulk order for programmes at Gay Meadow.

It was at the bar that I was faced with the bizarre sight of 22 blokes dressed as very well endowed women. Was this an end-of-season tradition for the Shrews fans? No, it was the local rugby team on their 'Cocks in Frocks' tour. Now there's an idea for the last match next season!

We gathered later at the Three Fishes where I started putting names to some SULSESC member faces. Now I'm not normally one who gathers with CAMRA heads but there was something strangely enticing about having a deep and meaningful conversation with fellow Scunny enthusiasts who really understand what 'supporting' is all about. However, several real ales later, I fell by the wayside and moved on with the nutters and the chanters to The Exchange. Okay, not the most culturally enriching experience but we sang, we back slapped, we flag waved, we bragged and we drank overpriced shots of blue absinthe-like sugary stuff. Hey, one day I'll grow up.

We made our way to the ground, not one we will miss next season. The away supporters' stand was shallow and everywhere I stood was partly obstructed by the goal netting. Never mind, our team made their triumphant entrance.

Balloons everywhere. U-nigh-ted! I looked around. We were going to do it.

The players looked confident - just like the Bristol Rovers match - up for it. We were going up, and nobody was going to stop us.

The game was a blur, scrappy, forgettable. We knew Swansea had taken an early lead but we looked solid at the back without threatening their goal. The second-half was played at a slightly higher tempo. Luke Rodgers was taken off, Beagrie clipped the bar, Torpey's overhead kick was saved with consummate ease by Hart. That was it. The whistle blew and we jumped, we hugged, we knew we were up.

I made a bee-line for the fence to get the best view. I saw Lawsey with his arms aloft, Crozzer with his familiar post-match, fist clenching roar, then the whole team chanting together: 'We're going up, we're going up, we're going, the Blues are going up'. Brilliant.

Crozzer and Haysey came over, the relief, the joy, fantastic. Cleveland running up to us with old Mr. Wharton in tow. Mr. Potatohead chucking his shorts into the crowd. Ian Baraclough, last off the pitch I think, justifiably milking it.

Now this is where the journey home began, and much confusion followed. Chris had organised a fish 'n' chip supper. We got back to the Three Fishes. Chris went to the chippy. I was indulging in post-season analysis with fellow SULSESC members and suddenly realised it was five minutes to train leaving time.

I dashed to the station. Too late. I jumped on the next train - 10 minutes behind. Got to Wolverhampton and missed the connection.

Meanwhile my fish 'n' chip supper was being split thee ways. Decided to discover the delights of the Wolves nightlife for an hour. Liked it too much. Missed the next connection.

Sat on the bench for another hour. Finally boarded the 20.33 with two very annoying Villa fans. Oh, and the service stopped at Milton Keynes. We jumped on the coach, suffered an hour and a half of inane chat with a female law degree student. We tried to bribe the driver to get to Euston for the last tube at 00.45 - but failed. Wandered around North London for the night bus. Got home at 2 am and wallowed in the delightful sight of Scunny being second on page 326 of BBC1 Teletext.