I don’t know about anyone else, but I bloody miss the away days.
Getting up early on a Saturday morning, invariably it was starting to get chillier towards the end of September. Showered and ready, out the door to the car that’s waiting, preferring to drives myself. First job was to stop and fill the fuel tank up, settle back into the drivers seat and off, A31, M27, M3 and more than likely heading north on the A34.
Seeing other Cherry cars on the road that you wave to and then catching up and overtaking the first of the supporters coaches that started off earlier.
Warwick Services on the M40 (the last place I talked with dear old Mick Cunningham on the way to Stoke) would be the first comfort break, grab a cuppa and something to munch. The supporters coaches pulling in, not just AFCB but other teams as well, all ‘comrades’ on the road to meet up and make up their particular ‘barmy army’. Exchanging banter, having a laugh and then wishing them “good luck for today”.
Back on to the motorway and either heading up to the M6 Toll Road or straight up the M42 / A42 towards the M1 and onto your destination.
Meeting mates at the ground, a pint and a pasty or pie .... or both .... having a laugh. Getting to your seat, where back in the old days you had the choice of a few hundred places, then the away section starting to roll in, Red n’ B,ack shirts, scarves and ‘colours’ everywhere. The first chants and claps as the team come out to warm up.
Looking around for any mate that you haven’t seen yet. Phone the Mrs, send someone a photo of the ground, which again back in the old days was invariably a shyte-hole, and then the songs would start as the teams came out.
Acknowledging the manager, whoever it was at the time, with a song ... “Pulis, Pulis, give us a wave” not being certain whether he was waving back or sticking a finger up to you.
The game starts and the rain pours, would we win? Draw perhaps? But more often than not, we’d lose to a late goal put in by the local hero.
Having sang to the ref and the linos that they should stick to their day jobs of being a bankers, you’d then start to pour out of the gates at the end of the game, heading for the car and all you can hear were local accents talking about how dirty John Bailey or Stevie Robinson had been, forgetting that their particular version of Charlie Adams had nigh-on broken one of our players legs.
In the car, switch on 5 Live and the music ‘Out Of The Blue” for Sports Report to get a run down of the days results. Who won, who lost, trying to work out where AFCB would be in the league.
It’s getting darker and and you’re traveling back the way you came. Warwick Services - South for a P, grab a burger and drink, probably fill the fuel tank again and back on the road.
Getting home, kiss the Mrs, stroke the dogs and settle back in your chair to watch Match of the Day ..... or in my case, fall asleep during MOTD. Getting into bed and questioning yourself as to ‘why do I do it?’ ...... because you love the club, the team, the supporters and everything about AFC Bournemouth. As you drop off to sleep, you’re already thinking about the next away trip in two weeks time.
Yep, I bloody miss the away days.
.
