Windscreen wipers going twenty to the dozen, wind blowing the car all over the place and only the 6 Nations Rugby Union on the radio. It was a desperate drive home. The only consolation was that it was a mere seventy five miles back to Halifax. Irritation, irritation, irritation!
Optimism and high spirits were the name of the game on our journey to Lincolnshire. It was no surprise when Megaphone Man took the opportunity to share the news ‘We’ve got Lee Gregory!’ with the toll booth operator as we paid our 40p crossing the River Trent. They even knew what a fish butty was in the aptly named ‘Back of the Net’ chippy on Scorer Street next to the ground.
Sincil Bank is a proper football stadium, a main stand that holds 6,500 home fans down one side of the ground. There are two smaller seated stands at either end and an odd looking stand on the side that looks like it may have been built from a flat pack kit. The 336 travelling Shaymen were given half of the Stacey West stand behind the goal and facing directly into the low winter sun.
Sometimes your team loses and deserves to lose, other times the result goes against you and you come away thinking everything should have been different. Today was one of those days. Credit to the Lincoln City Massive who, backed by a pair of competent drummers and an air raid siren, had their own party in the corner of the Main Stand and generated as much noise as any team we’ve come across this season. With only a few minutes to go and 3-1 down, it’s fair to say there was still real optimism amongst the vocal travelling Shaymen that a positive result was possible. I guess that’s the route of the irritation and perhaps its better sometimes to be soundly beaten than to lose like today.
The drive home could have been better had I not been distracted by an over enthusiastic Lincoln City fan in the car alongside at the traffic lights who seemed to think his team had just won the FA Cup! Two minutes later and we were faced with a ‘Strictly No Vehicles’ sign, we were lost and driving around the cobbles within the grounds of the Cathedral. We’d already driven down a one-way street the wrong way, so in for a penny in for a pound. I just wish Trainspotter John wouldn’t call getting lost ‘an unexpected treat that we can tell our friends about in the pub’, it’s irritating and we just want to get home!
Next stop is a Thursday night trip to Chester and that horrible industrial estate that takes six months to get out of at the end of the game. Can’t wait; C’mon Shaymen.
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