It’s not until you’re stuck in traffic on a sweltering Friday afternoon, with the air conditioning pumping out more hot air than cool, than you realize just how much you miss football during the summer. We’d been traveling for a couple of hours, still north of Doncaster, and had only just reached the point of moving faster than 5 miles an hour when a voice from the back seat chirped up, “Can we stop at these services? I need the loo.” You couldn’t make it up. Our plans for a leisurely 220-mile drive south, with a stop for tea at our favourite restaurant along the way, were in tatters. At the rate we were going, making it to kick-off was the only thing on our minds.
The journey was fraught. With the car windows down, we had to shout to be heard; with the windows up, we melted in the heat. Every time we started making progress, we hit more queues. Tesco Pete, in the navigator’s seat, was unable to provide any traffic updates or detours due to a ‘lack of signal’ but was still engrossed in his phone, chasing monsters, completely oblivious. Oh, the joys of a grand day out.
We finally rolled up to Victoria Road, home of Dagenham and Redbridge, just an hour before kick-off. Their wonderful secretary had kindly reserved us a spot in the car park, mere inches from the turnstile—thank you! Admission was £23 in advance for adults, or £25 on the day; concessions were a reasonable £17, with the opportunity to sit in our usual seats high behind one of the goals. It was still daylight when we arrived, but as the players came out of the tunnel, the floodlights came on, dusk set in, and the game began.
The first half was unexpectedly sweet—but not because of the football. I’d accidentally sprinkled a generous helping of sugar on my chips instead of salt. Since it’s not something you expect, at first you brush it off as just something different. Water always tastes different down south; maybe their chips do too? It wasn’t until Tesco Pete mentioned he’d had trouble opening the salt cellar that I realized I hadn’t seen one, only a dish on the table that looked like salt. Anyway, I was hungry; the chips were different, but don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
Dagenham took the lead midway through the first half. It had been fairly even until then, with neither keeper having much to do, as the Shaymen were attacking the far end. The goal changed the game, giving the home side the boost they needed. From that point on, Town looked vulnerable, with the Daggers dominating possession. A substitution was made before the break, as changes were clearly needed to avoid a certain defeat.
The second half was comfortable for the home side; they created several opportunities at the far end in the gathering darkness. We had a free kick, which was easily saved—our only chance up to that point. The local ‘yoof’ next to us were in full voice, chanting, “It’s a long way from Yorkshire when you lose.” The 90 or so traveling Shaymen probably agreed. After a string of further substitutions and time running out, the stadium announcer broke our silence with, “Tonight’s attendance is…” then paused, obviously watching the game. Town were on the attack—Oluwabori had the ball just past halfway, went past one player, then another, and then hit a tremendous shot across the keeper.
It had been a challenging day: the football wasn’t great, we were tired, and had a long journey home ahead. But when the ball hit the back of the net and the players celebrated beneath us, suddenly it all felt worth it. That moment—the pandemonium in the away end—is why we love football. In the remaining minutes, the Shaymen looked transformed. As the stadium announcer finally shared the attendance, there could only be one winner. In the last moment of injury time, a Town shot whistled in and looked destined for the top corner, but somehow it fizzed just over.
The team were applauded off at the end, securing a point from a game that looked lost. As the Daggers fans sang, “It’s a long way from Yorkshire when you lose,” but tonight we had a short trip back with a respectable point. Thanks, lads!
Next up, we’re off back down south for a visit to Ebbsfleet. C’mon Shaymen!
Miles on the road: 440. Goals on the road: 1
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