The FA Cup. Part 7.

Tuesday, 01^st October 2013

Second Round Qualifying Replay

Witham Town v Hemel Hempstead

 

Village Glass Stadium

Witham

CM8 1UN

K.O. 7.45pm

Half time 2-1

Final score 3-4

1-0 Jordan Parkes  05 mins

1-1 Tom Wraight  32 mins

2-1 Tom Wraight  42 mins

3-1 Lewis Godbold  51 mins

3-2 Lewis Toomey  84 mins

3-3 Ben Mackey  89 mins

3-4 David Pearce  90+2 mins

Attendance 156

Miles travelled approximately 95

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 4am. Already? I was just in the middle of a dream… I was kissing Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream… No. Hold on. That’s not right.

I’d got a plan. Instead of getting up at 3.30am, I was going to get up at 4am, a quick shower, into work for 5am and get going ASAP, 30 minutes saved at this end might just help out at that end.

I got into work. I’m not loaded. The minutes tick by at a frighteningly quick rate. Then when I was loaded, it was loaded drops, 4, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and an extra drop in Haverhill making it 11. It turns out that Benet Street, Cambridge was going to be closed from 10am, so they said that drop 4 needed to be first. The only problem with that is that drop 1 is in Trinity Street and the bollards go up, so it has to be first. Also drop 2 and 3 are in Benet Street so why weren’t they moved? This is what happens when some pen pusher in office over 200 miles away thinks that they know how to drive my truck around the tight bicycle infected streets of Cambridge.

In an act of complete genius, the company I work for decided that taking drop 1 off my truck while I was still at base was too simple. They would send a 7.5 ton vehicle up to Cambridge where the  driver and I would tranship drop 1 from my 26 ton vehicle to the 7.5 ton vehicle in the street, the street in question  being Benet Street, the one that’s closing at 10am. He would then try to get into Trinity Street before the bollards go up and stop him completing the delivery.

Still with me? Keeping up? It gets worse. To complicate things even more the driver’s seat in my truck was broken. Eventually it is fixed.

Finally, I’m ready to leave and I’m on way to Cambridge, a massive TWO hours late. Let’s go Sat Nav racing. The fates are kind. Green lights all the way. I dig my way onto the A10. The Sun was a brilliant bright orange. The pale white crescent Moon was melting away and so were the minutes. My ETA started to fall. 08.59 … 08.56 … 08.54 … with 08.47 the lowest it was going to reach.

I started to play with my route in my head. What could I do to finish the route, not just early, but finish it. This route can’t be completed because of the extra drop.  If I can’t complete the route I can’t get to Witham.

As I plodded off the M11 and into Cambridge I came up with a plan, it was a cunning plan, so cunning it would make Baldrick’s head spin, but then, so would a turnip. My cunning plan went straight out the window as I ran into all of the commuter traffic that was still trying to get into Cambridge. As it turns out, one of the biggest hotels in Cambridge was on fire leaving most of the city closed off. I glanced at my Sat Nav, 08.50 … 08.55 … 08.58 … *SIGH*

I started my deliveries in Benet Street. Up rocks Adam. We tranship drop 1. He has a massive 15 minutes to dig his way out and back in again before Trinity Street is closed. He completes the drop. Yes he is that good.

Just for the record, Benet Street never did get closed. They walk amongst us, you know that don’t you…

I’m still stupidly late. I have another brainwave. I phone Customer Services and I speak to the lovely ladies 200 miles away. We form a plan of attack. They phone me back. We’ve got a “Yes” from my remaining customers. By the time I get to my normal last drop I’m 30 minutes IN FRONT! Yes I am that good. But I’ve still got that extra drop in Haverhill.

That extra drop kills the route. I now know I can’t make the KO. I try not to panic. The M11 and A120 give me time to think. There are no cunning plans. There is nothing I can do. I will miss the KO. It now becomes a question of what time I get to Witham.

I leave work at 7pm. KO is 7.45pm. Work to Witham FC is 1 hour 10 minutes away. You do the maths. Let’s go Sat Nav racing. The Stranglers CD kicks in and I’m off. My ETA starts to fall, 20.10 … 20.07 … 20.05 … I’m never going to make 25 minutes vanish or am I…

I get on the M25 at J25 and promptly stop. All four lanes are stationary. I try not to look at my Sat Nav. On a positive, I know that once I’ve cleared the accident the M25 will be empty. Slowly, slowly, we start to edge forward. What used to be a sports car was now on the back of a low loader. The HGV Class 1 it had run into the back of was blinking away in the dark with a slightly dented idiot catcher, while the Armco barriers on the side on the M25 were destroyed, which must really piss the Highways Agency off because they had only finished putting them in last week. I love the way those Armco barriers absorb the energy of the impacts.

I arrived at Witham at 20.10 having a done a steady 77mph all the way… honest officer I did… the car park was rammed. Beyond rammed. Cars abandoned anywhere and everywhere. A bloke walking past me said, “I’m about to leave you can have my spot”, I thanked him, parked the car, got my stuff together and made my way in. Erm… where the hell is the entrance?

I asked the kid on the turnstile if they had any tickets. No they didn’t. I bumped into James and his Dad who were also trying to do the Cup trail. I was told that score was 0-1. As we were chatting Witham equalized. I spoke to a few familiar faces including Mick who’s filming the game as usual and I made my way around the ground taking the now usual photos.

I made my way to the refreshment place type thing and I asked for, “A Bovril please”. “What’s Bovril?” she asked. Welcome to Essex. “I’ll have a cup of tea then please” I said, slightly sulking. As I made my way to the corner Witham went 2-1 up and ran towards me to celebrate. Easy tiger easy, I know you’re happy to see me, but…

A few guys behind the goal had an I pad or whatever the hell they are called and were watching ITV1’s coverage of the European Corporate Whore game.

Half time arrived and I took advantage of an empty ground and continued to take photos. I bumped into David Boggins – Hemel’s chairman, I asked if he’d got a spare ticket, which he didn’t.

The second half started, by now I was leaning on the fence, near the half way line and I was having trouble focusing on the ball. I was so tired I just wanted to cry. I turned around to answer someone’s question and looked straight into the eyes of Tony Last – Witham’s Chairman, “Good to see you young man”, he said as we shock hands, “And you”, I replied, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare ticket have you?” I continued. “No, we don’t do tickets, but I did knock one of these up for you”, he said and he handed me a little one off guest pass/ticket. Ha! Ha! Ha! The spirit of St Margaretsbury continues. Brilliant stuff.

Witham then went 3-1 up with a very well taken free kick on 51 minutes. Well that’s interesting.

I tried to focus on the game. It was easier than trying to focus on the ball. Were they playing route one? Were they deliberately missing out the midfield? Had I got it wrong? Were Hemel going route one? That didn’t make sense. I need sleep. Anyone got a dimmer switch for those floodlights?

Hemel pressed forward, still looking to get something from the game. Witham hit them on the break time and time again. For the neutral, it was great stuff. As the game moved towards 90 minutes tactical substitutions were made. Witham should have played it safe, but they just went for it, 3-1 up, in the Cup, at home in the next round, 10 minutes to go and they are still going at it. The neutral in me is thinking that this is brilliant stuff while the footballer in me is thinking, stick it in the corner and wind down the clock.

Then it happened, again. Witham hit Hemel on the break, again. One box to the other. Lightning speed. Hemel were back tracking faster than a politician on a bad day. The ball was rolled straight across the six yard line and the advancing Witham player watched as it rolled pasted him. No one could believe it. Why didn’t he slide in? Maybe the ground was to cold and wet? POOFTA! I could have put it in with the end of my John Thomas. From that moment on they were doomed.

Hemel scored three goals in the remaining minutes, 84, 89 and 90+2. Mental scenes greeted the winner.

In the end I think it was a simple combination of Hemel being the fitter team and Witham refusing to run the clock down. Part of me admired Witham’s attitude while part of me wanted to slap them.

I bumped into Tony Last after the game. The look on his face said more than I can here. Heartbroken probably comes close.

I spoke to Tony and David about how they got involved in their respective clubs and why they still do it. Strangely both men said, “If my wife knew how much money I spend on this club…” Ha Ha Ha…

Tony said that I should go into the club and enjoy the hospitality, which I briefly did before making my way to the chippie and home.

A steady supply of Powerade and Jaffa Cakes kept me awake. The roads were empty. I made good time. My eyes were oozing goo. I got home, striped and crawled into bed. As my head hit the pillow I looked at my alarm clock, it read, 00 hours. 06 minutes. 00 seconds.

I had a small weep to myself.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 5am. Already? I was just in the middle of a dream… I was still kissing Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream… No. Hold on. That’s not right. I think I have gender issues…

Have I really only had 11 hours sleep since 8am on Monday morning…

Noggin xx