The following is an article that I had published in the August edition (No 218) of The Lion Roars, a Millwall fanzine. It is my first attempt at writing & I hope you like it:-
A Camel Ride to Wembley
Go on admit it, I bet a play off final at Wembley wasn’t the uppermost thought in your mind last September was it? It certainly wasn’t in mine after the dismally depressing season we had previously. Well that’s my excuse anyway and I am sticking to it, and duly booked the Clayton families much needed break for the middle weeks in May. So that’s how I came to find myself on a 5 hour flight to Egypt while 800 of the Millwall faithful were on an equally epic journey north up the M1.
Living in Ireland as I do, work commitments precluded me from making it back for the home leg, but at least I watched it on the TV. Admittedly a one goal cushion was small enough to take to Yorkshire but even I could dream about Wembley. Obtaining a final ticket was going to be the easy part, but having fought so hard and long with Mrs C to release the finances for scuba diving in the Red Sea, cancellation was not an option. Clearly a much more cunning approach was needed; I checked the internet to see if Ryan-hare had expanded its services to the under-utilised North African market. Hatching a plan to sneak away from the beach, nip back to London for a packet of fags, and quick jog up the Wembley way to the famous new stadium. But as the days ticked by to the 14th May it dawned on me that Millwall’s possible first visit to the new Wembley would be without me.
Our 5 hour flight to Sharm el Sheikh was scheduled so that we were airborne for the 2nd leg. Friends, fully aware of my predicament, were going to text the highlights to me as they occurred. As soon as the plane hit the tarmac the Nokia was banged on & I waited breathlessly as text followed text:-
“Great atmosphere” – OK what’s the result?
“Getting nervous mate” – yea me too, what’s the result?
“Millwall started well” – great, what is the damn result?
“Lively 1st Half 0-0” – who cares about half time, what’s the sodding result?
“Penalty to Beckford L” – Oh feck!!!
“SAVED!!!” – For Gods sake what is the result????
“1-0 Leeds Becchio” – so is that a result??
“Dying minutes its all Lions” – Im bloody dying here what’s the result?
“GOAL, Abdou, you beauty!!!” – YES!! Please let that be the result
“6 mins of injury” – and a result?”
“All over mate. We’re on our way to Wembley” – What a result!!!
I don’t remember the transfer to the hotel, all I can tell you is I may have floated on a wave of euphoria.
The next chestnut on the tree of association football came to me over the next few days. That is: where do I go to watch the game live? Sharm el Sheikh is a pretty quiet resort and is not over occupied with “English” pubs or sports bars. Eventually I was pointed in the direction of a bland building with a banner reading “ALL live Sky soccer games shown here” backed up by a full list of fixtures for the coming weeks sporting events. Making my way up the stairs I was greeted at the door by an amiable bar man.
“Will you be showing the soccer, football, err play offs Wembley this Sunday?” I continued
“Welcome welcome, Wemberly, yes yes, everybody welcome”
“err right, but the game will you show it err live, real, on-time?”
“Yes Yes good match chillingjam”
“Chilling Jam” what the feck’s he on about?
“Yes we show you chillingjam Saturday”
Good God this guys mistaken me for a Medway Sea caravanner!!
“No mate, err Millwall, The Lions, are playing Sunday”
“Sunday yes yes I try to show Meellwall, will many English come here see Meellwall?”
“Errr yeah, hundreds” I replied through gritted teeth.
“Ok Ok but Scottish boys also be here. Lots and lots to see Glasgow play to the final. You watch the Wemberley on the veranda, OK?”
“Yep verandas fine with me mate” I grinned “whose game you showing Rangers or Celtic?” “Yes Yes Ranchers and Cheltic. Sunday, big game”
To be honest it didn’t matter to me, I was sorted so who cares.
On Sunday 24th I lazed around the pool till mid afternoon (Egypt being 3 hours ahead of dear old blighty) then headed over to the bar. Mohammed welcomed me like an old friend and showed me into the main bar where I ordered a beer and turned to look round. There I saw, side by side, only a few feet apart, two huge projection screens. One was already showing a live feed from Dundee where Rangers were warming up….and the other was being beamed live from Easter Road where Celtic were playing Hibs. Holy Shit! The realisation dawned that this guy was going to show the Scottish championship deciders, in the same bar at the same time to a roomful of Jocks who had most likely been on the lash for 4 hours before a ball had been kicked! This should be interesting I thought as Mohammed ushered me out to the veranda “This is for you, Wemberley, Meellwall, big final, good yes?”
“Perfect mate. Err one thing, the Scottish lads you do know they, ummm don’t get on too well don’t you?”
“Yes very good, last game season, everyone excited”
“That’s an understatement I think mate” I replied as I settled down.
Over the next half hour I was joined by a few other ‘Wall fans and just before kick off I heard a late arrival ask: “Or-reet? Is T’ footie from Wembley on T’ Tele?”
As we all turned to look his face dropped as he spotted all the blue shirts. “Ahh, so t’is. Mind if ah join thee?”
“Nah mate, sit down”
Well kick off came and I was impressed at how well we moved the ball around when we had it, right up to the point where Sparrow slammed the ball past Fordy. Northern man threw himself into the air before realising the full implications, and looked around somewhat apologetically.
“Nice goal” said Mohammed, as we all stared into our beers wordlessly.
Amazingly Millwall didn’t let their heads dropped and determined to play themselves back into the game. And then Alexander got the ball out on the left, and as a few players ran toward the box he lifted the ball up and over Murphys head. “What the feck is he doing?” I thought as the ball sailed away…into the net.
A split second of silence was burst by Mohammed’s wry but suitable comment “Fuck-a-luck” before the room erupted. Even Northern Man could see the beauty in that goal and a handful of Scots lads made their way out to see what all the noise was about. Barely had we calmed down than Gary’s header put us in the lead and even the Celtic fans cheered that one. By now the Scottish championship seemed to be decided judging by the look on the Celtic fans faces & hearing the inner bar echo to the sound of marching songs.
Half time gave us time to reflect that the pitch side temperature was only slightly lower than Sharm, not good when you’ve paid as much as I had to be there. The second half started with the Lions taking the game to Scunthorpe before their equaliser. Of course the stand out moment was when Alex got his head to the cross perfectly and just edged it past the right hand post. “Bloody feckin hell what he doing?” raved Mohammed, who by now had become an honorary Lions fan. “He make it harder to miss than hit a bloody goal” As he kicked a bar stool across the room.
I knew at that point that it wasn’t to be our day, and glumly watched the match play out until Woolcock scored the winner.
As the match ended we all relaxed and had another beer. The observations from Mohammed and the Scots lads deemed this probably the best play-off game in a long time. We congratulated Northern Man, bought him a beer, then told him to piss off! I think he’ll certainly remember that play off final, for all the right reasons. Sure it was a defeat, but the manner of it gave me a lot of hope, and may just have won us a few friends – I certainly know of a bar owner in Sharm el Sheikh who is going to be following the fortunes of the “Meelwall”. Well, we did take the time and trouble to educate him in the intricacies of inter-club rivalry in South London, which may shock any Palarse fans that wander in, or even Chilling Jam supporters!
The latest edtion of TLR was released on August 28th and is available from good bookshops at £1.50, or contact The Lion Roars email:- TLRTowers@googlemail.com
Website: The Lion Roars
