As I type, I’m currently sitting down on the 1731 from York to London Kings Cross. I’ve been looking over some flat farming scenery, a few built up areas, the typically grey Northern shithole and the odd worried sheep.
The carriage is a bit on the jumpy side, there are the usual excitable kids, OAPs wishing they were somewhere else, and the twentysomething couple who believe their conversations are so interesting that they feel the need to share with the rest of the carriage.
Unfortunately, due to York calling the game off at 1pm, that’s as interesting as the day gets.
OK, I could tell you about joys with three litre cars overheating in traffic jams, the London-esque gridlock in York, the rain, the two hours spent in various pubs around the station area, your editor’s increasingly bizarre sense of direction in getting to the ground (this was before the pub visit), and the slight problems a group of 15 had in a shitty bit of the city.
But I won’t.
All you need to know is, I got to York at 12.30, thought I was lost at about 12.55, then finally realised I was actually lost at 1.10pm. Then, at 1.11pm, I got a phone call…
You know how it is when you get such bad news that you just absolutely refuse to accept it? When I had that call, I thought it was a sick joke. I’m certain I asked the caller to stop messing me about and tell me that the game was on after all. It took a conversation of a rather disbelieving tone before the penny dropped.
OK, I knew the weather oop Norf was bad, but this? I’ve been to Blackburn when it’s got called off with 10 minutes before the start. There’s some therapy even now from the two Notts County postponements.
And I have to admit, that Grimsby game when we changed at Doncaster did go through my mind when I passed through the very same station on the way up.
So I’ve been here before, but they’re still difficult to swallow. Am I annoyed? A little bit, though part of me was glad I didn’t have to rush back from doing the SLP report to the station. True, I don’t like wasting £28 on an aborted journey, although I seem to have got lucky – I just go from London to York and back again, but others were going via Sheffield and even Manchester, at significantly more cost than I eventually shelled out.
That’s not to mention those who spent a couple of days up there either.
Ideally, I would like a rule that a game between two sides over 100 miles apart cannot be called off after 10am that morning. But in the real world, life doesn’t work like that. I’m told it was quite OK up in North Yorkshire on Thursday and Friday…
On a footballing level, I think Lady Luck opened her legs and enticed us into the back seat of her motor this afternoon. DK and Elder were gone today, and the likes of Luke Moore weren’t 100% there. We might have got out of jail today, without being arrested in the first place.
Barrow becomes a lot more important, but at least we have a couple more days to recover from Cheltenham. I mean, the injuries we’ve recently picked up.
What this does do for us as well is make re-arranging the game somewhat fun. There’s a couple of rumours flying about at the moment, but we’ll have to wait for official confirmation. Most of which seem to suggest that a game on a Thursday will do – we don’t have many Tuesdays to fit in.
Me, I’d rather move one of the senior cup games, and tell the relevant committees to get fucked. Only in non-league could a minor cup competition ever take priority over a league game.
Anyway, that’s for the future. For now, just sit back and bask in the fact that we didn’t lose today. And hope your editor’s train doesn’t break down…